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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1564/43465/MCurtisA1579599-161130-02.1.pdf
6ade64adf230bddeecdea07af9f1c55d
Dublin Core
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Title
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Curtis, A
Curtis, Len
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-11-30
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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
Curtis, A
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. The collection concerns "Len" Curtis (1579599 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents and a manuscript. He flew operations as a bomb aimer with 106, 630 and 617 Squadrons.
The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Cary Curtis and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
LANCASTER J B 139
[drawing]
DARK VICTOR
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[Photograph]
Don Cheney’s crew (photograph taken in London circa December 1943).
Back row (L-R): R. Pool, J. Rosher, W. N. Wait, McRostie. Front row (L-R): R. Welch, D. Cheney, A Curtis
L’équipage de Don cheney [sic] (photo prise à Londres vers décembre 1943).
Debout, de gauche à droite: R. Pool, J. Rosher, W. N. Wait, McRostie.
Assis, de gauche à droite: R. Welch, D. Cheney, A Curtis.
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617 Squadron’s campaign against the V-Sites in the Pas de Calais had concluded with the final assault on the V-1 site at Siracourt on 1st August, 1944. The Pas de Calais had been over-run by various units of the Allied Armies, positively breaking out from the consolidated beach-head area, and sending the German forces into headlong retreat along the whole front, save for the various French coastal redoubts, which the Allies initially by-passed without making any strong effort to subdue them.
617 Squadron, in company with other squadrons of Bomber Command, had pulverised the enemy’s E-Boat flotillas in the French harbours of Le Havre and Boulogne, forcing the remnants to retreat to the comparatively safer harbours of Holland, notably Ijmuiden. These units now had a much longer voyage to oppose the invasion support convoys and this, together with the short summer nights, had rendered their efforts against these convoys almost innocuous and very costly in the casualties inflicted by the convoy escorts.
With the underlying threat of the V-Sites firmly removed, 617’s efforts were re-directed against the French Biscay ports of Brest, Lorient and La Pallice. The aim was to deny these ports and their facilities to the ocean-going U-Boats and to drive them to other, and more northerly lairs. There was an additional purpose in the matter of Brest. Strong American forces had broken out of their bridgehead area and were deploying rapidly and with great purpose through the “bocage” country of Normandy and Brittany. American units had isolated the German garrison in Cherbourg, one of the planned redoubts, whilst other motorised and armoured columns were making all speed towards Brest. The Allies needed to capture a large established
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deep-water port as soon as possible. Thus, the German garrison in Brest, with their numbers greatly increased by the many other German units which had sought refuge from the American advance, needed to have demonstrated to them just exactly what the total Allied air supremacy would bring to them during any period they might resolve to hold out. “Drive out the U-Boats and intimidate the garrison” . . . these were the deadly purposes of the assaults about to be launched from the air on Brest.
Flying Officer Don Cheney eased Lancaster “KC – V“ (JB 139) into the air at 0949 hours on Saturday, 5th August, 1944, from RAF Woodhall Spa. The squadron effort was sixteen Lancasters, each armed with a Tallboy bomb, and “V – Victor” was the ninth aircraft to get airborne. Beside the pilot, Flight Sergeant Jim Rosher prepared to ease back the throttles and later set the “revs and boost” his captain would request for the climb to height, once the full take-off procedure had been fulfilled. Flight Sergeant Len Curtis prepared to take his Bomb Aimer’s position in the nose from his perch on the step immediately below the flight engineer’s position. At the navigation table Pilot Officer Roy Welch was busy “setting out his stall” . . as was the wireless operator Flight Sergeant Reg Pool at the W/T set. In the mid-upper turret Warrant Officer Ken Porter settled himself comfortably, whilst Pilot Officer William Noel Wait did likewise in the rear turret. Both gunners prepared to unlock and test their turrets when the engines were throttled back and it was safe to do so.
The aircraft circled the airfield until the navigator warned that it was almost time to set course. Don brought the Lancaster round on to the
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required heading over the airfield and commenced the long, unhurried climb to the operational height of 18,000 feet.
It was a beautiful summer’s day . . . very warm with almost cloudless skies affording continuous sunshine. The mighty Merlins lifted the heavily-laden aircraft effortlessly and without one discordant note. Don checked with each member of the crew that all systems were operational and that there were no snags. He actioned the occasional slight course correction offered by the industrious navigator. When the aircraft had reached the operational height, Don called for the necessary cruising “revs and boost” to be set on the dials, checking the readings when he had Jim Rosher’s assertion that this had been carried out.
Don felt quite elated that another operational phase was beginning for the squadron against the U-Boat pens, with formidable Brest as the first target. He had found the tasks on 617 much more self-satisfying than those long, and very demanding, hauls in the enemy darkness, to bomb Target Indicators laid by other unknown crews. In the daylight raids of 617, captains were required to identify their aiming-points visually and to aim their bombs at this point . . often able to observe the success of the squadron’s effort before the confirming reconnaissance photos were available. Even on the 617 night operations, the Lancaster crews knew that the target had been identified and marked with meticulous accuracy by the squadron’s Mosquito marking force, so that the red spot fires could be bombed with the certain knowledge that they were on the aiming point. Don’s mind slipped back to the attack on the Watten V2 site in the Pas de Calais on July 25th, when the very accurate flak defences had knocked out one engine of his aircraft and so severely damaged the hydraulic system that all turrets became inoperable: the bomb doors hung limply open and the
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availability of the undercarriage became a matter of conjecture and prayer. The fuselage was awash with hydraulic oil and filled with the acrid smell of cordite. Miraculously, the intercomm was working and Don had raised all the crew, save the mid-upper gunner, the Aussie “Mac” McRostie. Don instructed the wireless operator to investigate the silence, in case the gunner was in need of assistance. A shaken Reg Pool appeared beside him some moments later, puled Don’s right earpiece aside and yelled “Mac’s gone!”. Don banked the aircraft, to bring it round course back to the UK, at the same time surveying the area below. His eye picked up the white silk of a parachute against the background of green countryside. It was about four thousand feet below the Lancaster and drifting gently inland. Mac’s prisoner-of-war status had been reported to Allied sources within a few days by the Resistance network. Don had taken stock of the damage to the aircraft during the return flight, and was greatly relieved to discover that no fires had started and that no member of the crew was injured. Some desultory heavy flak was aimed at them as they neared the French coast, but it was inaccurate and did no damage. Jim Rosher called Don’s attention to something overhead and there, sitting some thirty feet above the Lancaster, and sliding gently across and back again, was a Spitfire. The Spit then perched just off the starboard wing, with he pilot giving “Thumbs Up”, until the English coast was reached and then, with a salute of farewell, it peeled off to starboard and was gone. There was a temptation to “drop in“ at one of the many ‘dromes en route, but dogged persistence drove them on to Woodhall Spa. Fortuitously, the emergency air bottles “blew down” and locked the undercarriage and “T for Tare” flopped in without ceremony or waste of time, on clearance from the Control Tower.
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It was this series of events that had introduced Ken Porter into the crew. Ken had finished his first tour with 619 Squadron at Coningsby and had immediately opted to join 617. By coincidence, Don Cheney had been the pilot of the Lancaster which had flown the short distance from Woodhall Spa to Coningsby to pick him up and effect his transfer to his new squadron. Don was very pleased to have a fellow Canadian in his crew, for all the other members were from the United Kingdom and . . . Len Curtis’ voice broke in on his musings. “English coast coming up, navigator . . . we look to be OK on track and I’ll give you “crossing coast” when we’re overhead”. Roy Welch duly acknowledged the message and Don alerted himself for the passage across the Channel and into enemy territory. Once over the sea, both gunners performed the ritual test of the turret guns and reported all guns serviceable. ”V – Victor” crossed the enemy coast without any opposition manifesting itself, with the promised Spitfire escort ranged above and around the assembling 617, as they marshalled at the rendezvous point. Don took his allocated position in the “gaggle”, which proceeded on its stately and irrevocable purpose. The bomb-sight data passed between the navigator and the bomb-aimer, to be re-checked once it had been fed to the bomb-sight and before the aircraft was committed to the bombing run. Then the formation swung sharply to starboard, denying confirmation to the defenders of Brest that the port was really the objective of the operation until the last possible moment., The campaign against the U-Boat bases had begun in deadly earnest.
The run-up to the target was some twenty miles in length. As always, the Stabilised Automatic Bomb-Sight demanded the closest tolerances of height, course and airspeed from the pilot and Don Cheney’s total concentration was
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on these three factors. He knew from Len Curtis’s calm voice and quiet, unhurried directions that the bomb-aimer had the target well and truly lined up in his bomb-sight. Sweat trickled into Don’s eyes and down the side of his face, soaking into the collar of his shirt . . . not much longer now, and the Tallboy would be on its lethal way and he would have the luxury of drying himself with his handkerchief . . . not much longer for that blessed relief . . . not much longer. Suddenly, the voice of the rear gunner broke into the intercomm. “Looks as if some quite heavy barrage fire is coming up, skip!”. Don did not answer, his whole being concentrated on the final crucial moments of the bombing run. Ken Porter swung his turret to check the rear gunner’s observation. A second string of black bursts appeared above the black cotton-wool of the initial salvo and his experienced eye could see that the salvos were creeping higher and nearer. Don heard the dulled explosions . . . under the nose and to each side, he surmised, but the bomb-aimer’s directions held him in thrall. Then came the memory-stirring clangs and thumps as direct hits struck the aircraft with giant hammer-blows. A gasping cry came over the intercomm but still the bomb-aimer continued his relentless commentary. The cockpit filled with cordite fumes and again fiery red bursts erupted around the aircraft. Another involuntary cry came over the intercomm, almost drowned by the triumphant cry of “Bomb Gone!” from the bomb-aimer. With the main duty now performed, Don began the task of extricating the crew from the serious situation in which they obviously were. He banked and dived the Lancaster to port to elude further predicted bursts. Jim Rosher folded his seat and moved towards the navigation table. Don was still holding the dive from the danger zone when Jim came on the intercom. “Roy and Reg are both hurt, Don” he reported. “I’m attending to Roy . . . Ken and Noel have come forward
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[inserted] 7 [/inserted]
and are attending to Reg”. “Any idea of the damage, Jim?” asked Don. “All the gauges on the Engineer’s panel are wrecked, Don” replied Jim. Ken Porter came on the intercom. “I got down from my turret after the first strike, Don, to see what the score was . . and then the second shell struck home, just aft of the main spar, I figure. I almost choked on the fumes from the explosion of that shell! The damage seems to be confined to the starboard side of the kite, in the wing-root area”. “There’s a large hole in the nav table” interjected Jim “and the radio compartment is pretty badly smashed!”. “Thanks both” replied Don. “Could Roy give me a course for Base when he’s ready?”. Jim Rosher realised that Don did not quite know the extent of the navigatgor’s [sic] wounds. Shrapnel had struck him in the face, tearing away the oxygen mask and removing his upper teeth and gums. Jim had just applied a field dressing to the area . . . despite the pain he was suffering, Ron had managed to smile crookedly when the pad was put in place. When Don’s request came over the intercomm, and to Jim’s utter amazement, Roy sat up in his chair, pored over his log and wrote some figures on a clip-board pad. He then stood up with a great effort. Aware of movement on his right, Don turned quickly. Roy was standing by the pilot’s seat, one hand grasping the high, armour-plated back and the other carrying the clip-board. His face was covered from nose to chin with a large antiseptic pad. There were large spots of blood on his shirt collar and on the side of his head. He was unable to speak but relinquished his grip on the seat-back, to hold the clip-board where Don could read it, indicating with his pencil the message he had written. “Heading 060”. . Don gave him a grateful nod and set the course on his compass repeater. Roy tottered back to his seat for Jim Rosher to continue to minister to his wounds. Len
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Curtis had switched off the SABS and all the bombing gear and brought the First Aid kit to assist the two wounded members.
Don continued the descending turn to port, aiming to bring the Lancaster on to the course so gallantly proffered by the navigator. He had noted that Ron was not on oxygen and assumed that Reg was in the same predicament, so he had increased the rate of descent in order to get down below oxygen height as quickly as possible. The compass needle was nearing a southerly heading in the continuing turn, when he felt a poke in the side. He looked to his right and saw Jim Rosher pointing to the starboard wing. Don looked along the raised wing and was appalled to see a large jagged hole between the two engines. It looked large enough for a man to crawl through! Beyond this chasm, was a number of smaller holes, from which were emerging small light blue flames and wisps of smoke. He continued the diving turn to port, to keep the possible fire hazard away from the fuselage. He mentally summed up the prospects and gave the order “Prepare to abandon aircraft! Prepare to abandon aircraft!”.
Jim Rosher checked that his ‘chute was readily to hand. He saw that Len Curtis was still busily engaged, ministering gently to the badly-wounded Wireless Operator, who had sustained wounds in the chest and legs from large jagged pieces of shrapnel. Jim lowered himself into the bombing well to prepare the escape hatch for abandonment, a duty which normally Len would have performed. He was lifting the hatch from its location when he noticed that Len Curtis’s ‘chute was lying loose on the floor. Fearing that the slipstream might suck it from the aircraft when the hatch was jettisoned, Jim let go of the hatch, which by this time was half-way out of the aircraft. The impact of the slipstream jammed the hatch across the
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escape exit. Jim crawled carefully around the partially-blocked exit and secured the rogue ‘chute in its proper stowage. He then endeavoured to deal with the recalcitrant hatch cover. He managed to budge it a few inches but that was all. He gave up and returned to his post beside the pilot.
On receipt of the captain’s order, Ken Porter and Noel Wait immediately went back to their ‘chute stowages to clamp their parachutes on their chests, leaving Len Curtis still ministering to the wireless operator. Noel Wait was having some trouble with his ‘chute pack and Ken Porter went to help him. Noel must have thought that Ken was on his way to the rear door, for he called urgently “Wait for me!” . . . which Don heard on the intercom and he sought to reassure the rear gunner that the order was only preparatory at that time. Suddenly the starboard inner engine failed and began to belch flames and black smoke. Jim Rosher quickly feathered the engine and threw the appropriate graviner switch to quell the flames in that engine. This seemed to deal effectively with the situation. “Both wings are holed, Don” reported Jim “and the fuselage is badly holed and torn in many places!”. Don could see a blue flame burning ominously in the No 2 fuel tank. It seemed to be growing even as he watched. He could feel heat building up from the starboard side of the cockpit. There was not a moment to Lose! . . “ABANDON AIRCRAFT! ABANDON AIRCRAFT!” he ordered.
At the rear of the aircraft, Noel Wait had plugged into the intercomm socket whilst Ken Porter had secured the rear door open. Ken saw that flames were streaming back from the starboard wing, almost the length of the fuselage. The flames and smoke dispersed suddenly, but hard on the heels of this Ken received a visual signal from Noel that the order to
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abandon aircraft had been given. He signed for Noel to go first, but Noel indicated for Ken to lead the way. Ken sat on the door sill with his legs dangling in the slip-stream. He leaned back and then tried to roll himself forward, as had been so easy in the practice drills. But due to the aircraft’s “starboard wing up” attitude, the roll forward took a great deal of effort and Ken found himself leaving the aircraft much closer to the fuselage than he might have expected. However, that seemed to ensure he was well clear of the tail assembly. He had no doubt that Noel would quickly follow him.
Jim Rosher slid forward into the bombing well and tried desperately to free the jammed hatch. Suddenly he was aware that Roy Welch was beside him, ‘chute clipped on and a large dressing still strapped across his face. In spite of his injuries, Roy assisted Jim to such effect that, although their efforts failed to free the hatch cover, it was moved sufficiently to allow a somewhat cramped escape route. Roy waved his hand in farewell to Jim and, with some difficulty, launched himself from the aircraft. Jim turned to see that Len Curtis was now in the bombing well. He put his mouth close to Len’s ear and said “How’s Reg?” “He’s right behind me!” replied Len “You leave now and I’ll follow you!” Immediately Jim manoeuvred himself through the restricted escape exit and was gone. Len edged his way around to his ‘chute stowage, clamped the ‘chute on to his harness and returned to the jammed hatch cover. He could see that he was not going to be able to negotiate the exit as he constituted at the moment, being, in his own words, “somewhat portly”. He tried without success to budge the jammed cover. Reg Pool was sitting dazedly on the fuselage floor, above the step leading into the bombing well. Len signalled Reg to retreat a bit, to give Len more
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room, but it was obvious that Reg just did not understand what Len was indicating. Len released the ‘chute straps from his main harness, whilst keeping the ‘chute secured in the clamps. He used both hands to raise the pack above his head and sat down at the escape exit with his feet through the narrowed opening. Gripping the pack above his head as tightly as his fingers would allow, he uttered a silent prayer and thrust himself into space. His stratagem worked and he cleared the aircraft without difficulty.
Don Cheney had ceased turning the aircraft to port on issuing the order to abandon and held it at height on a southerly course whilst his crew got out. He could see that the aircraft was just out to sea and felt that his crew would have a better chance of escaping capture in the area south of Brest, if the surge of the German retreat had been pell-mell northwards towards Brest once Wehrmacht units had been appraised of the American “break-out in great strength” some days previously. One of Jim Rosher’s last acts before leaving the aircraft had been to lay a ‘chute pack under Don’s seat, to expedite Don’s own departure from the Lancaster. Don had been fully informed of the situation with the jammed hatch cover. He was aware of the departure of the navigator, flight engineer and then his bomb-aimer. He knew that the two gunners had left by the rear door and appreciated that the badly-wounded wireless operator and himself were the sole remaining aircrew. He climbed down from his seat and, holding the aircraft as steady as possible by keeping his left hand on the control column, he strove with his right arm to help Reg to his feet. Slowly he managed to raise Reg and used both hands to steady the weakened aircrew. As soon as he had taken his hand from the control column, the aircraft began to wallow ominously from side to
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side. Don was forced to regain his seat and settle the aircraft again. Reg clung precariously to the side of the seat whilst this was happening. When he was satisfied that the aircraft was on even keel again, Don left his seat and clipped his wireless operator’s ‘chute on to Reg’s harness. Reg had been holding the pack, but was obviously too weak to do this task for himself. The Lancaster insisted on nosing into a steep dive each time Don took his hand from the controls and repeatedly Don had to regain his seat to bring the aircraft out of the dive. Eventually, Reg had been prepared for abandoning the aircraft. In one of the Lancaster’s “behaviour lulls”, Don was able to lead him down to the escape exit. Reg dangled his feet through the escape exit and, with Don’s help and guidance, was able to grasp the silver D-ring. Again, Don had to leave him to “recover” the aircraft from a dive. As soon as he could, he returned to Reg’s side. Don had some misgivings about Reg’s capacity to act correctly once he had left the aircraft and sought to reassure himself, although there really was no alternative to what had to happen. Don removed Reg’s helmet and, putting his mouth close to Reg’s ear, he said urgently “You will be OK, Reg, won’t you? . . . once you’ve left the aircraft?” The injured man nodded a couple of times. Somewhat reassured, Don continued “Keep hold of the ring, Reg and don’t pull it until you are well clear . . . understand?” Again he was answered with nods of the head. Don put his hands under Reg’s armpits, lifted him and eased him gently through the exit. Suddenly, Reg was gone without any further hurt or hindrance. Don peered through the exit but failed to pick up any sign of a parachute. He became aware that the aircraft was diving again and hurried back to regain control and to prepare for his own departure.
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Don had scarcely retrieved the situation when there was a surge of heat from the starboard side of the fuselage. Instinctively he turned to the engineer’s panel and was aghast to see bubbles appearing in the yellow paint of the panel. He climbed down from his seat and stooped to retrieve his ‘chute pack and clipped it to his chest. He had to remove his hand from the controls to effect this and immediately the Lancaster went into a steep dive. A noise like a roaring tornado developed as the slipstream tore in through the escape hatch and ravaged through the battered fuselage to escape at the open rear door. The engine noise was rising to a crescendo! . . . he fought his way back into his seat and with a superhuman effort, brought the nose up . . up . . up . . and then pushed the column forward until a semblance of “straight and level” flight was assumed. His mind had been racing ahead . . . no way was he going to be able to get down into the bombing-well and launch himself into space before the stricken Lancaster went into its final death-dive . . . no way could he reach the rear door exit, either! No, it HAD to be through the ditching hatch above his head! He turned in his seat, so that he was able to kneel on the seat cushion and jam his rump against the control column. He gave the release handle a firm twist and the hatch cover windmilled off into the slip-stream. The wind-noise increased ten-fold! Don removed his helmet and sun-glasses and tossed them towards the floor, but they were immediately whisked off down the fuselage. With his feet now on the seat, he forced his head and shoulders through the hatch opening but found he was unable to clear it. Urgently, he sought to get first one foot and then the other on the seat armrests . . . and then was shattered to find that the ‘chute pack prevented him from getting through the hatch! He crouched back again inside the cockpit. The
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aircraft was in a steep dive and his best efforts could only bring the nose up slightly. He knew he HAD to get out NOW! He resumed his attempt to get through the dinghy hatch, but this time was able to flip the pack upwards and clear of the hatch before beginning to wrestle the rest of his body through the opening. He stood on the armrests again and managed to get his right knee on the edge of the hatch. His left foot groped frantically for additional purchase below. Miraculously, he made contact with the back of the seat . . . felt his way upwards until his foot was at the top of his seat which provided a promise of firm leverage. He paused to gather all his reserves of strength and then gave a tremendous push on his left foot. He bulleted out into a roaring cacophony of sound. The blurred hump of the mid-upper turret flashed past and, with that peculiar human sense that allows one to observe the innocuous in moments of great personal stress, he gave mental thanks that Ken had remembered to depress the turret guns. The two large tail fins loomed and went safely by and with them the W/T aerials that could have cut through him like a wire through cheese . . . and then he was tumbling in space, with his knees drawn up to his chest. In his gyrations he saw blue sky and white clouds framed between his flying boots . . . then water . . . then land . . . then the sky and clouds again to complete the cycle. His consciousness was no longer dominated by the roar of the aircraft. Instead, there was a rushing of air past his ears. He felt around the pack for the release handle and seized it thankfully. He waited a further five seconds and gave it a very firm pull. It gave with incredible ease and he was conscious of holding the D-ring in his hand, with a two-feet length of wire attached to it and not the slightest slackening of his speed of fall! “Hell!” he thought “I’ve pulled it too
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hard and the “chute just isn’t going to work! What an ending after all I’ve escaped!”. A definite “whumpf” halted these thoughts in their tracks . . . his headlong fall was arrested . . . he assumed an upright position . . . no more rushing air in his ears. He was floating gently aloft, with only the gentle flapping of the beautiful white canopy above him to break the silence of that lovely summer afternoon. He heard the drone of an aircraft and looked around to see “V for Victor” in its death throes. It had reared from its downward plunge, with its nose rising until the Lancaster toppled over. For one frightening moment Don felt that there was a distinct possibility of the aircraft banking round and perhaps striking him, but then it went into a gentle spin towards the sea. An eternity seemed to pass before it finally struck the surface with one final roar. A great burst of red flames and thick black smoke was followed by a boiling circle of churning sea. The Don saw a series of smaller splashes as lesser debris hit the water, but finally nothing remained to mark the grave of “V for Victor” but a column of spiralling smoke which the sea breeze quickly dispersed.
A dull, muted droning of aircraft engines became faintly audible. Peering into the distance, Don could make out the specks of other 617 aircraft which, having delivered their bomb-loads, were now haring back to Woodhall Spa. Soon they were gone and an unbroken silence descended. Don could see no other ‘chutes in the sky around him. To all intents and purposes he was completely alone.
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Len Curtis was greatly relieved when the billowing silk canopy of his parachute arrested his headlong fall through space. He became aware that, whilst he had been wrestling his way through the narrowed escape hatch, the racing slip-stream had torn off his right flying boot, and for a few moments he was non-plussed . . . why hadn’t his left flying boots joined its companion? But he was swiftly dragged back to reality when he saw the Lancaster turning towards him in a shallow dive. For a few agonising moments, he was sure that it would hit him, but suddenly it resumed straight and level flight and the danger passed, but too close for real comfort. Len examined the area around and below him but failed to pick up the ‘chutes of Roy Welch and Jim Rosher. He began to assess his own situation and estimated that he would enter the waters of the bay some two miles from land. The sensation of rapid descent increased as he neared the water. He prepared himself for the plunge by unlocking the quick-release unit of the ‘chute. When he judged himself to be about fifteen feet above the surface of the sea, he struck the unit with his clenched fist, at the same time operating the automatic inflation lever on his Mae West. He fell out of his ‘chute and harness, which drifted away, clear of the spot where Len eventually hit the water. He went down only a few feet before rising buoyantly to the surface. He surveyed the geography of the bay and found himself in the broad base of its sweep. Undaunted, he commenced to swim towards the shore, deflating his Mae West slightly to allow himself to assume a comfortable swimming posture. He was glad to find that the water was quite warm and felt that, under less intimidating circumstances, it would have been quite a pleasant way to spend a summer afternoon. He glanced at his watch . . it had stopped at 1220 pm.
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He made steady progress towards an outcrop of rock and estimated that he had been in the sea for about two hours, when a burst of automatic fire split the silence. He heard the hiss of the bullets as they passed overhead and he turned to face the direction from which they had come. He made out a knot of German troops on the beach. About half-dozen had their weapons trained threateningly on him, whilst one beckoned him imperiously to change his direction towards them, making it plain what would happen if he refused. Cursing his luck, Len swam towards them and soon he was standing on the beach, dripping wet, surrounded by Germans. They expertly removed all his valuables and possessions, which they pocketed with great satisfaction, but the reception was generally cordial. Obviously, they remarked between themselves on his missing boot. Len discarded his Mae West, and it was immediately examined by the interested troops. Len was disgusted to find that they were armed with Sten guns . . . the guns that the supply squadrons regularly dropped to the Resistance! His captors were obviously a platoon under the command of a Corporal, but quite soon a car appeared from which emerged a Wehrmacht officer. He strode across to Len, who stood to attention, as military etiquette demanded. The German studies Len for a few moments. “Ah, Feldwebel” he said and motioned Len into the car. With Len flanked in the rear by two “Sten-armed” soldiers, and the officer in the front passenger seat, the car moved off. It sped through a town which Len was to learn later was Douarnenez and on for some way until it reached a small military camp. Len was escorted to a cell and a meal of German field rations and hot black erzatz coffee was provided, again with the same cordiality that had reigned on the beach. He rested for an hour or so, when the door was unlocked and a Feldwebel beckoned him out. He was taken to an office block and escorted into a room where a different
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Wehrmacht officer sat at a table. Len saluted as he entered and the officer indicated the chair which faced him across the table. Len sat down and prepared himself for the interrogation. “Number . . . rank and name” he was asked, in quite reasonable English and Len provided this information, which was entered on the form in front of his interrogator. “Unit?”, came the next question. Len shook his head “I am afraid I cannot give you that, sir” he replied. The officer looked at him quizzically and after a few moments, pushed himself back from the table and left the room through a door behind his desk . . . Len heard a muffled conversation between perhaps three or four voices and then the officer returned. “Sergeant, you will be taken to Quimper airport tomorrow and handed over to the Luftwaffe. The information you have given us will be forwarded, as required, but we have more important things to do at this moment than to interrogate RAF prisoners.” He called for the Feldwebel and soon Len found himself back in his cell. Relief allowed him to sleep quite soundly that night.
In the morning he was given a meal and transported under guard to Quimper airfield. Before he left the camp, he was handed a pair of German Army issue boots. Len took a grip on the leg and boot of his flying boot with a few swift jerks, separated them by breaking the stitching, as provided by their design. He tore out the silk linings of the legging, folded them into small packs, and put them in the back pockets of his battle-dress trousers. He managed to have some conversation with his guards on the drive to Quimper and discovered that the majority of the troops holding this part of France were Austrian and Czech formations. There was an awareness of the American break-out from the invasion beaches and Len was left with the distinct impression that his guards wanted nothing more
[Page break]
than to be captured in one piece and get out of this war! This cheered him no end, and went a long way in explaining the cordiality with which he had been received.
At Quimper airfield, he was placed in the custody of a Luftwaffe corporal, who seemed to be the only Luftwaffe representative left. His Wehrmacht guards and driver insisted on shaking hands with him before they left, and Len was becoming more and more at ease with his situation. The Luftwaffe corporal turned out to be a conscripted Czech who had a few similar Czech troopers under his command. He was quite amenable and spoke some English. Len gathered that the corporal was hourly expecting orders to evacuate the airfield and this would mean moving a band of about two hundred French Algerian prisoners-of-war . . and Len! He spent a not unpleasant day at Quimper and could see that morale amongst the German “mercenaries” was plunging.
The following day, Monday 7th August, the Luftwaffe corporal informed Len that orders had come through to evacuate the airfield and move all prisoners into the Crozon Peninsular. It was estimated that a march of some 45 kilometres lay ahead, which Len interpolated as around 28 miles. The corporal added that the march would be accomplished at night, since the Allied Air Forces had made the roads in Brittany very dangerous for the movement of large formations in daylight hours. Len rested most of the day in preparation for what lay ahead. At about 1700 hrs, the corporal and his troop began the thankless task of assembling their French-Algerian prisoners, many of whom had so many large packages draped about them that they looked like pack-mules! Just before 1800 hrs the party, in some fifty
[Page break]
files of four abreast, trudged out of the camp, en route for the Crozon Peninsular, with the corporal pushing his beloved bike. It was a warm clear evening, with the guards anxiously scanning the skies and straining their ears for the first possible warning of an air attack. Fortune favoured the column in this respect and dusk fell with no interference from marauding Allied fighters. Dusk turned to night, with bright moonlight effectively lighting the road. The party, which had had a degree of compactness at the outset, was now strung out over a distance of some four hundred yards. Consequently, the escort became ever more thinly spread along the length of the column. They passed through what appeared to be sleeping French villages, although Len was certain that curtains were raised in darkened upstairs windows to observe their progress. He wondered if “underground” radios were passing the information on to Maquis squads and fervently hoped that no clandestine ambush would be laid against the party before its identity had been checked.
Occasionally a halt was called for a short break, generally in the area of a village pump, or public water supply. The dispersal of the marchers had one advantage, in that it made for less crowding around the drinking area. It also allowed the mass to coagulate somewhat, although the more lightly-weighted elements were soon ahead of the “beasts of burden” once the march was resumed. Len’s feet became blistered, and so he sat down on a grassy bank, removed his German field boots and put his feet in the cool water of the brook that ran past. He soaked some of the linings from his flying-boot and carefully bound up his blistered feet, revelling in the relief that the silk pads immediately afforded. He became aware that many of the Algerians now passing him were limping badly. Ignoring the guards, Len called to them, indicating for them to sit on the bank and bathe their feet as he had
[Page break]
done. They did this gratefully. Len set to work to minister to as many as he could until his lining stock was exhausted, but he still signalled to others to bathe their feet. The guards shrugged their shoulders . . . some even joined their charges in their ministrations.
Still the trek dragged on its weary way. Fruit trees and occasional root crops gave sustenance to the prisoners, for no ration provision had been made for them when the march was ordered. Len quite understood when he saw them stuffing items into their baggage after each “windfall” . . . they were providing against what might lie beyond their next camp.
Len was padding along beside the bike-pushing corporal, who was becoming quite concerned about the spread of the column, now that their destination was about two hours walk ahead. The corporal called a halt for the prisoners at the head of his party and indicated to Len that he would be going back to “chivvy along” the stragglers. He left his bike in Len’s charge and strode back down the road. When he was out of sight, Len mounted the cycle and pedalled off towards the squad of prisoners ahead. Some of the Algerians thought he was escaping and gave him encouraging cheers, but Len felt his best bet in the obvious chaotic battle situation was to accept his present captivity until a genuine opportunity presented itself to make contact with Allied troops. In the meantime, using the corporal’s bike would take the weight off his blistered feet! When he was almost upon the leading batch, he dismounted and rested by the roadside. When the first file of the laggards hove into hearing and view, he remounted the bike and caught up with the leaders once more. He continued this routine of “riding and resting” for an hour or so before actually riding through the ranks of the pace-setters and finally making the guards understand that their batch should wait for the remainder of the prisoners
[Page break]
to catch up, so that the party could arrive as a whole unit at their destination, which could not be all that far ahead. The prospect of a break appealed to the guards and the prisoners and they were quite content to rest for the hour it took the whole of the rear party to catch up. The corporal was pleased with Len’s arrangements but took the precaution of reclaiming his bike, so that Len finished the trek on his own two well-rested feet.
It was just after 1100 hours on Tuesday, 8th August that the whole party arrived at their destination in the Crozon Peninsular, some eighteen hours after leaving Quimper airfield. The Algerians were marched on to a makeshift camp, but Len was taken by the Czech corporal to a house that had been commandeered by the Wehrmacht. Len was accommodated in a bedroom converted into a cell and was asleep almost as soon as his head touched the rough pillow.
[Page break]
Len was kept in this location for two days, with very little restriction on his movements. His corporal “friend” accompanied him on exercise walks in the immediate areas and Len was “on the ration strength” of the guard-room staff, eating the same food as they did. Len observed that the Wehrmacht were just as opportunist at supplementing rations as any other army in the field and included him in the share of the “extras”.
On the evening of the third day, a small Wehrmacht lorry stopped outside the guard-room. The driver produced orders for Len’s transfer to Brest and Len was duly handed over, after hand-shakes all round, much to the amazement of the lorry driver who proved to be a genuine ”German” German! Two Wehrmacht soldiers with fixed bayonets watched over him in the body of the truck, but they also showed great concern about the almost-continuous aircraft engine noise that accompanied that nocturnal journey to what proved to be Brest, but, to the great relief of all, they made the journey without incident. Len was initially kept in a small school, barricaded with barbed wire, along with mainly American Army prisoners, although he did come across two more RAF aircrew during his stay.
Yet again the Germans decided to move him and he was transplanted within the Brest boundaries to a castle which housed some one hundred and fifty American soldiers. He was occasionally included in the fatigue parties that were roughly assembled and marched down into the dock area to help clear the rubble-strewn streets, the legacy of the many bombing raids that the port was enduring. Low-flying and dive-bombing American fighter-bombers strafed and bombed the port’s defences continually throughout the daylight hours, with great effect. Len was crossing a street when he heard a bomb coming down that he knew was going to be very close. He dived into the
[Page break]
gutter, with his face turned in towards the kerb and his hands clasped behind his neck. He sensed more than heard the explosion but felt the blast on his hands. He leapt to his feet and headed for a shelter like a scalded cat. He literally dived into the shelter which was mainly filled with German personnel but they made room for him and no-one objected to his presence.
On another occasion in the dock area he took shelter when the Air Raid sirens screamed their warning and an ominous silence descended on the port for a few minutes, until the heavy flak began to spit in anger. Instinct told Len this was a “heavies job” but he didn’t stand in the open to decide whether it was the RAF or the Eighth Army Air Force. A few minutes later the walls of the shelter trembled as salvos of bombs plummeted into the harbour area, although Len was pretty sure they were not Tallboys!
The Germans decided to move the prisoners from Brest. The military situation was becoming extreme for them and they could no longer spare the considerable number of front-line personnel needed to maintain the prisoner-of-war organisation. These guards were now needed as replacements for the defenders killed by the Allied Air Forces. The column of prisoners was moved out at night and marched, via the town of Le Fret, to the small seaside resort of Rostellec, in the Crozon Peninsular.
The days passed, with the food stocks dwindling. All French civilians had long been cleared out of Rostellec and Len and his immediate companions began to scavenge for food to supplement their meagre fare. It was a great find to discover onions in the overgrown wilderness of what had once been a lovingly tended vegetable garden of one of the village houses. The military population of the Crozon Peninsular grew each day, as the German troops
[Page break]
retreated before the American mobile forces. Rostellec provided Len and the other Allied prisoners with a grand-stand view of the bombing of Brest by RAF and American aircraft. Soon the concentrations on the Peninsular were bombed heavily and regularly by light bombers and fighters, inevitably causing casualties among the American prisoners and some of the members of the French Resistance confined with them. Over fifty were wiped out in one raid alone.
Eventually, on Monday, 18th September, six weeks after he had been shot down, liberating forces of the American Army rolled into the Crozon Peninsular. The bottled-up Germans had had enough and the surrender was swift and unanimous. With magnificent perception, among the early arrivals with the US Army were large lorries liberally laden with “PX supplies” and soon field-kitchens were providing almost “peace-time” meals for the hungry hordes of prisoners. Len ate and drank his fill before slipping off to find a comfortable billet for the night. He found himself in a house that had been an impromptu Mess for Wehrmacht officers. The beds were clean and comfortable. He lowered himself thankfully into the depths of the most inviting of them and was soon sleeping that sound and deeply refreshing sleep which was known in the Air Force as “a short course of Death”.
The sun was well up when he surfaced again. He lay luxuriating in the bed, gathering his thoughts and making plans for the day. He would have to make contact with some US officer who could arrange transport . . or offer help . . to get him back to England and Woodhall Spa. Eventually he sat up and began to dress, when suddenly he became curious to know what might be contained in the furniture with which the room was furnished. The chest of drawers
[Page break]
revealed nothing of interest but the wardrobe yielded a pair of German officer’s field boots! The leather was beautifully soft and shiny. Len drew them on, scarcely daring to breathe, and he almost shouted with delight at their perfect fit. He drew his battledress trouser-legs down over them which served to make it appear that he was wearing normal shoes. He finished dressing and made his way to the nearest field-kitchen where he was supplied with food by the American cooks without demur. When he was finished, he approached a huge sergeant-cook and asked where he could find a US officer. The sergeant stared at him for a moment “A god-dammed Limey!” he said “Jeez, they had one of everything in this place!” “Officers? Boy, they’re as thick as flies around here” he continued “Just walk around and you’re sure to find one!”. Len took his advice and soon saw a jeep with an American officer and two sergeants aboard. He approached the jeep, threw up a smart salute and said “Excuse me, sir!”. The dust-covered American looked quite startled but Len pressed on. “I am a bomb-aimer in the RAF. I was shot down six weeks ago and am anxious to get back to my unit in England. Can you help me?”. “Not personally, sergeant” replied the officer. “You see, there’s this war on and we’ve got to gather in all the Kraut prisoners and ship out all our own captured personnel for assessment and re-allocation . . and that’s quite a job in any man’s army!” He paused for a moment and then went on “Just down there, on the right, they’ve established an MT compound and Mess. Your best bet is to speak to one of the quartermasters. The lorries are running supplies from the dump at Rennes and the boys from up in the wild blue yonder have a makeshift airfield at Rennes . . chances are you can thumb an aerial lift there”. “Thank you, sir . . very helpful” replied Len, saluted and turned away. He heard one
[Page break]
of the sergeants say “These Limeys! Always correct and military, even when they’ve been six weeks adrift!”.
Len found the compound and watch [sic] the activity for a while. He saw that the drivers of lorries arriving with stores vacated their seats to the Camp personnel and hurried off to the large marquee which was obviously a temporary Mess. German prisoners-of-wat supplemented the American Army personnel in the unloading of the vehicles. Once a vehicle was unloaded, it was driven off the site and parked in a lager where it was refuelled and checked. After some ten minutes or so, drivers came to reclaim their vehicles which were driven off westwards at a fair rate of knots. Len wandered over to where the top-sergeant was standing and occasionally bawling. “Excuse me, sergeant . . . how can I get a lift to Rennes?” The sergeant wheeled at the sound of Len’s voice and in a voice heavy with amazement said “A god-damn Limey! I heard you were all still stuck on the beaches!” “No, I’ve been here six weeks, sergeant” replied Len innocently. “Six weeks, eh?” rejoined the sergeant “Guess you want to get back to Limeyland real quick. Best you can do is go over to the chow tent and ask around . . . most of the trucks are running from Rennes”. Len thanked him and turned towards the marquee. “Limey” called the sergeant “Make sure you take some of the hard-tack for the journey. There are no roadside cafes along that road now!”.
Len sauntered into the marquee and marvelled at the quality of the food that was being offered to the drivers. He approached one driver who seemed to be almost finished eating. “Excuse me . . any chance of a lift back to Rennes?”. The American surveyed him for a few moments and said “Who are you?”. “RAF aircrew, shot down over Brest six weeks ago. I want to get back
[Page break]
to England and an officer out there said the best way was to hitch a lift back to Rennes, with a chance of getting an air trip from the airfield there”. “Your luck’s in, fellah” smiled the American “My orders take me to Rennes airfield, to load up and return to this Base. I’ll be glad of the company!”. Len waited until the driver had finished his coffee and followed him out of the marquee. From a table close to the entrance, the American grabbed two bags and tossed one to Len. “Hard tack for the journey” he explained, at the same time lifting a large Thermos flask from the side of the table. The lorry was quickly located and soon they were heading westwards, on the 150 miles journey to Rennes. The driver was most anxious to hear about Len’s previous six weeks in France and that conversation, together with the “chow break”, made the five hours journey pass reasonably quickly. It was getting quite dark when they pulled into Rennes airfield. “No night-flying from this field, Limey” said the American. “Best plan is to find yourself somewhere to sleep for the night and try your luck in the morning”. Len thanked his for his help and descended from the truck near a group of airfield buildings. He found a camp bed and a blanket in one of the rooms and settled down for the night.
Len awoke around 7 am on what promised to be another fine day. There was no sound of flying activity from the airfield as he dressed. He found a stand-pipe tap between the buildings and had a refreshing cold-water wash which revived him no end. He looked across the airfield and saw what appeared to be Dakota aircraft on the farther side and began to walk around the grass perimeter towards this dispersal. Suddenly a wonderful small of cooking assailed his nostrils and reminded him that he was quite hungry. He followed his nose, somewhat like the kids in the “Bisto” advert, and came
[Page break]
upon an underground air-raid shelter from which the aroma was issuing. He called down “Anyone there?” which immediately struck his as trite, since obviously some-one had to be cooking the food! His call brought the head and shoulders of an American sergeant into view. He looked questioningly at Len, without saying a word. “Any chance of some grub, sarge?” queried Len hopefully. “What’s a Limey doing here at this time of the morning?” countered the American. Len gave him a rapid potted history of the past six weeks, which seemed to satisfy the soldier. “Anything to trade?” queried the sergeant. Len offered him the choice of the few German badges and insignia he had gathered during his sojourn in France and the satisfied sergeant withdrew into the shelter. He appeared some minutes later with a huge sandwich, which Len found to contain a large portion of beautifully cooked Texas longhorn steak, topped with two eggs, to be washed down with as much coffee as he wished. Len did not rush this meal . . . such a feast needed to be savoured and appreciated to the last crumb! Finally he took his leave of his benefactor and made his way to the dispersals, which were now a hive of activity.
A study of the area revealed to Len what appeared to be the Administrative centre. He made his way over to this hut and explained his position to the top-sergeant seated in a smaller office inside. “Yeah” said the sergeant “Plenty of flights to England! Where are you heading?”. Len explained that he needed to get to London. “Fine!” came the rejoinder “Got one flight for London due to leave in about thirty minutes! Come with me, Limey”. He escorted Len across the tarmac and introduced him to two fur-jacketed American officers. “One returning Limey prisoner-of-war to be added to your manifest, sir” said the sergeant to one of the officers and sauntered off. Len found himself outlining the last six weeks to the two very interested
[Page break]
Americans. Before long, the Dakota was taxying to the take-off point with Len comfortably settled in the fuselage.
The flight took a little over three hours and the aircraft landed at what is now Heath Row [sic]. Len thanked his hosts for the lift and made his way to a cluster of huts, to locate some RAF authority to report to and from whom to obtain instructions. He explained his circumstances to a sergeant who said “Follow me, Chiefie! There’s been quite a trickle of aircrew through here this past fortnight. I’ll take you to the officer who has the “drill” off pat now!”. Soon Len was on his way to the Central Hotel in London, where returning former P.O.W. aircrew were required to report for debriefing. He arrives at the nearest station to this Central Hotel and was walking the final stage when he heard behind him “Excuse me, Flight Sergeant”. He turned round, to find himself confronted by two Service MPs, beautifully turned out and burnished. He had time to note that one was of Warrant Officer rank, while the other, a flight sergeant, began to berate him for his appearance and threatening a charge for being improperly dressed. Mentally, Len could only agree with him, for his wardrobe consisted simply of his battledress blouse and trousers, the legs of the trousers still covering the German officer field boots . . . no socks, shirt, tie, pants or vest. However, his resentment welled up within him and he explained forcefully, with many epithets thrown in, just how he had come to this pass, and advised the SPs to allow him to continue on his journey to report his return to Higher Authority. Speechless, and suitably chastened, the SPs stood mute as Len turned his back on them and arrived at his destination.
[Page break]
Once his identity had been checked and proved, Len was allowed to have a bath and provided with a shaving kit to make himself presentable for the programme which followed. First, he was given the full stringent aircrew medical, which he passed without any trouble. He was then given the items of clothing he needed to assume a “smart, airmanlike appearance”, although he retained the field boots as a souvenir of his exploits. He was given a meal and then subjected to a thorough debriefing, covering the period from the moment the Lancaster was hit until his arrival at “Heath Row”. He was required to stretch and search his mind for any detail that he had observed that might prove of value to Intelligence sources. Special interest was shown in his report that the Czech and Austrian elements he had encountered appeared to be looking for the opportunity to surrender and get out of the war whole. Eventually, when he had run the full course of the Central Hotel, he was again fed, given six weeks leave, with free warrant home and the appropriate ration cards, and two pounds in cash for subsistence on the journey home . . . most of which disappeared “down the hatch” by the time his train left London.
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
Lancaster JB139 Dark Victor
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
France
France--Pas-de-Calais
France--Le Havre
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
Netherlands
Netherlands--Ijmuiden
France--Brest
France--Lorient
France--La Pallice
France--Brittany
France--Normandy
France--Cherbourg
France--Watten
France--Douarnenez
France--Quimper
France--Crozon Peninsula
France--Rennes
Great Britain
Heathrow Airport (London, England)
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 Canadian Air Force
United States Army Air Force
Wehrmacht
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
33 printed sheets
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MCurtisA1579599-161130-02
Description
An account of the resource
A memoir of an operation involving Len Curtis and his crew members. During the operation his aircraft was shot down and Len was captured. However, he was liberated by American soldiers and returned to London six weeks later.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
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.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944
1944-08-05
1945
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Anne-Marie Watson
617 Squadron
619 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bale out
bomb aimer
bombing of the Boulogne E-boats (15/16 June 1944)
bombing of the Le Havre E-boat pens (14/15 June 1944)
C-47
flight engineer
Lancaster
mess
Mosquito
navigator
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Coningsby
RAF Woodhall Spa
Resistance
Spitfire
Tallboy
target indicator
target photograph
V-1
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1468/43464/LHarrisRJ[Ser -DoB]v1.pdf
ba3b67754b3a8fcfda1c8f09082d64fc
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
Harris, Raymond John
R J Harris
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
2015-11-05
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
Harris, RJ
Description
An account of the resource
Five items. The collection concerns Raymond John Harris DFC (174625 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book and photographs. He flew operations as a pilot with 9 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by John Harris and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
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
Raymond Harris's Pilot's log book
Description
An account of the resource
Raymond Harris was a pilot who flew the Lancaster on 34 operations with No 9 Squadron. The log book runs from 19 September 1942 to 24th August 1945. After his initial flying at the No 9 EFTS at RAF Ansty, flying in the Tiger Moth, Raymond went out to No 32 EFTS RAF Bowden, Alberta, Canada, flying the Stearman and occasionally the Tiger Moth. He remained there until December 1942 when he was posted to No 37 SFTS, Calgary, Alberta to fly the Harvard and occasionally the Anson. He remained there until April 1943 when he graduated and returned to Britain. Raymond was posted to 3 (P) AFU RAF South Cerney, flying the Oxford. He attended a BAT course at No 1532 BAT Flt, RAF Bagdown Farm in August. He was posted to 17 OTU, RAF Silverstone & RAF Turweston, 2 November 1943 to fly the Wellington. In April 1944 he was moved to 1661 HCU at RAF Winthorpe flying the Stirling, until May when he was posted to 5 LFS at RAF Syerstone flying the Lancaster. In May Raymond was posted to 9 Squadron at RAF Bardney flying the Lancaster. He did his first operation to Nantes on the 22 May and his second with his crew to Martin-de-Varreville on the 28 May. He did operations to Ferme D'urville, Point du Hoe, Argentan, Gelsenkirchen, Limoge, Prouville,Vitry le-francois, Creil, Culmont Chalimoray, Vileneuve st George, Stuttgart, Camagnes, Rilly la Montagne, Bois de Cassen, Trossy, Etaples, Lorient, La Pallice, Bordeax, Givorg, Brest, Girzerigen, Karlsruhe, Flushing, Tromso (Tirpitz), Urft Dam, Munich, Bergen, Ijmuiden, Altenbeken, Dortmund-Ems Canal, Sassnitz, Arnsberg, Vlotho, Bremen and Swinemunde. He flew a Cook's Tour and also took part in one of the Post Mortem operations. He was posted to 50 Squadron at RAF Sturgate in June. The last flight in the Log book was on 24 August in Lancaster PA474 which now flies with the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight.<br /><br /><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW73911805 BCX0">This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No </span><span class="ContextualSpellingAndGrammarError SCXW73911805 BCX0">better quality</span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW73911805 BCX0"> copies are available.</span>
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09-19
1942-12-09
1942-11-18
1943-04-02
1943-08-03
1943-08-30
1943-11-02
1944-04-04
1943-11-02
1944-05-09
1944-05-23
1944-05-28
1944-06-03
1944-06-05
1944-06-06
1944-06-19
1944-06-23
1944-06-24
1944-06-27
1944-07-04
1944-07-12
1944-07-14
1944-28-07
1944-07-28
1944-07-31
1944-08-02
1944-08-05
1944-08-07
1944-08-09
1944-08-10
1944-08-11
1944-08-13
1944-08-15
1944-09-26
1944-10-07
1944-10-29
1944-11-12
1944-11-17
1945-01-12
1945-02-05
1945-02-06
1945-02-24
1945-03-06
1945-03-13
1945-03-19
1945-03-27
1945-04-13
1945-04-19
1945-06-15
1945-08-24
1944-07-30
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
Canada
Alberta--Red Deer Region
Alberta--Calgary
England--Gloucestershire
England--Northamptonshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Buckinghamshire
France
France--Nantes
France--Valognes Region
France--Reims Region
France--Argentan
Germany
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
France--Limoges
France--Vitry-le-François
France--Creil
Germany--Stuttgart
France--Etaples
France--Lorient
France--La Pallice
France--Bordeaux (Nouvelle-Aquitaine)
France--Brest
Germany--Karlsruhe
Netherlands--Vlissingen
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Norway--Bergen
Norway--Tromsø
Germany--Munich
Germany--Roetgen
Germany--Altenbeken
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Sassnitz
Germany--Arnsberg
Germany--Vlotho
Germany--Bremen
Poland--Świnoujście
Germany--Helgoland
Germany--Flensburg
Poland
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
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text. Log book and record book
Text
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One photocopied booklet
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LHarrisRJ[Ser#-DoB]v1
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.
1661 HCU
17 OTU
50 Squadron
9 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
bombing of Helgoland (18 April 1945)
bombing of Luftwaffe night-fighter airfields (15 August 1944)
bombing of the Creil/St Leu d’Esserent V-1 storage areas (4/5 July 1944)
bombing of the Normandy coastal batteries (5/6 June 1944)
Bombing of Trossy St Maximin (3 August 1944)
Cook’s tour
Flying Training School
Fw 190
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
pilot
RAF Ansty
RAF Bardney
RAF South Cerney
RAF Sturgate
RAF Syerston
RAF Turweston
RAF Winthorpe
RCAF Bowden
Stearman
Stirling
tactical support for Normandy troops
Tallboy
Tiger Moth
Tirpitz
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1666/43394/LBurnettW1825655v1.2.pdf
25a81e344290698e9665d21fa18f191c
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
Burnett, Bill
Jock Burnett
William Burnett
W Burnett
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
2016-12-08
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
Burnett, W
Description
An account of the resource
Five items. The collection concerns William "Bill"/"Jock" Burnett (1825655 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book and documents. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 617 Squadron.
The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Natalie Burnett and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
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
Bill Burnett’s Flight Engineer’s Log Book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LBurnettW1825655v1
Description
An account of the resource
Bill Burnett’s Flying Log Book as Flight Engineer from 22 May 1944 to 20 April 1946. Initially with 1660 Heavy Conversion Unit before transferring to 5 Lancaster Finishing School and then 617 Squadron for operational duties in Europe. In January 1946 posted with 617 Squadron to RAF Digri, India with South East Asia Expeditionary Force.
Served at RAF Swinderby, RAF Syerston, RAF Woodhall Spa, RAF Waddington. Aircraft flown were Stirling, Lancaster I, Lancaster III, Lancaster VII.
Flew 25 day and 2 night operations with 617 Squadron to Brest, Westkapelle, Tromso (Tirpitz), Urft Dam, Ijmuiden, Politz, Rotterdam, Oslo Fjord, Bergen, Pootershaven, Bielefeld Viaduct, Nienburg Viaduct, Arnsberg Viaduct, Bremen, Farge, Hamburg, Swinemünde, Berchtesgaden. He also flew two Cook’s Tours and six Operation Dodge flights. His pilot on operations was Flight Lieutenant Goodman.
Includes a hand written note Dam Buster mines dropped in North Sea 31 March 1945.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
Atlantic Ocean--Oslofjorden
France
France--Brest
Netherlands
Netherlands--Ijmuiden
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Netherlands--Westkapelle
Norway
Norway--Bergen
Norway--Tromsø
Germany
Germany--Arnsberg
Germany--Berchtesgaden
Germany--Bielefeld
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Nienburg (Lower Saxony)
Germany--Urft Dam
Poland
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Poland--Świnoujście
Italy
Italy--Bari
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
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
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.
1944-08-27
1944-10-03
1944-10-29
1944-12-08
1944-12-11
1944-12-15
1944-12-21
1944-12-22
1944-12-29
1944-12-30
1944-12-31
1945-01-01
1945-01-14
1945-02-03
1945-02-06
1945-02-08
1945-02-14
1945-02-22
1945-03-09
1945-03-13
1945-03-14
1945-03-15
1945-03-19
1945-03-21
1945-03-23
1945-03-27
1945-04-06
1945-04-07
1945-04-08
1945-04-13
1945-04-25
1945-06-26
1945-07-05
1945-09-15
1945-09-18
1945-09-30
1945-10-03
1945-10-07
1945-10-09
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Nick Cornwell-Smith
1660 HCU
617 Squadron
aircrew
Cook’s tour
flight engineer
Grand Slam
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lancaster Mk 1
Lancaster Mk 3
Operation Dodge (1945)
RAF Swinderby
RAF Syerston
RAF Waddington
RAF Woodhall Spa
Stirling
Tallboy
Tirpitz
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2279/41482/LOldmanDA1602091v1.1.pdf
af98bacdec3ef91471734fc1365c164f
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
Oldman, Dennis
Description
An account of the resource
Six items. The collection concerns Dennis Oldman (1602091 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book and photographs. He flew operations as a bomb aimer with 617 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Ray Darby and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-02-14
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
Oldman, DA
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
Dennis Oldman's flying log book for aircrew other than pilot
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LOldmanDA1602091v1
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
Description
An account of the resource
Flying log book for aircrew other than pilot for D A Oldman, bomb aimer, covering the period from 27 July 1943 to 25 July 1946. Detailing his flying training, operations flown and post war flying duties with 617 Squadron. He was stationed at RCAF Picton, RCAF Mount Hope, RAF Penrhos, RAF Llandwrog, RAF Husbands Bosworth, RAF Market Harborough, RAF Winthorpe, RAF Syerston, RAF Woodhall Spa and RAF Binbrook. Aircraft flown in were Anson, Bolingbroke, Wellington, Stirling, and Lancaster. He flew a total of 19 operations with 617 Squadron, 18 daylight and one night. He also flew one operation Exodus. Targets were Tromso, Urft Dam, Rotterdam, Ijmuiden, Oslo Fjord, Bergen, Bielefeld Viaduct, Dortmund-Ems Canal, Bremen, Farge, Hamburg, Stettin, Heligoland, Berchtesgaden and Brussels. His pilot on operations was Flight Lieutenant Leavitt.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
1944-11-12
1944-12-08
1944-12-11
1944-12-29
1944-12-30
1944-12-31
1945-01-01
1945-01-12
1945-02-14
1945-02-22
1945-02-26
1945-03-23
1945-03-27
1945-04-06
1945-04-07
1945-04-09
1945-04-13
1945-04-15
1945-04-16
1945-04-19
1945-04-25
1945-05-10
1946
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Belgium
Canada
Germany
Great Britain
Netherlands
Norway
Poland
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Atlantic Ocean--Oslofjorden
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Belgium--Brussels
England--Leicestershire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
Germany--Berchtesgaden
Germany--Bielefeld
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Euskirchen Region
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Helgoland
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Norway--Bergen
Norway--Tromsø
Ontario--Hamilton
Ontario--Picton
Poland--Szczecin
Wales--Gwynedd
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
Language
A language of the resource
ita
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Mike Connock
14 OTU
1661 HCU
617 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
Air Observers School
aircrew
Anson
Bolingbroke
bomb aimer
bombing
Bombing and Gunnery School
bombing of Helgoland (18 April 1945)
Cook’s tour
Grand Slam
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Operation Catechism (12 November 1944)
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operational Training Unit
RAF Binbrook
RAF Husbands Bosworth
RAF Llandwrog
RAF Market Harborough
RAF Penrhos
RAF Syerston
RAF Winthorpe
RAF Woodhall Spa
Stirling
Tallboy
Tirpitz
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/667/38112/LAlgarHKM1801102v1.2.pdf
ad14f5561f1765e91fe8b0a378d72523
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
Algar, Harry
Harold Keith Mael Algar
H K M Algar
Description
An account of the resource
Thirteen items. An oral history interview with Flight Lieutenant Harry Algar (1924 - 2022, 1801102 Royal Air Force) and his log books and documents.
He flew a tour of operations as a bomb aimer with 463 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Greg Algar 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
2017-05-20
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
Algar, H
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
H K M Algar’s flying log book for aircrew other than pilots. One
Description
An account of the resource
Flying log book for aircrew other than pilots for H K M Algar, air bomber and navigator, covering the period from 14 September 1943 to 16 March 1954. Detailing his flying training, operations flown and post war flying duties with 201 Advanced Flying School, 230 Operational Conversion Unit, 149 Squadron, 44 Squadron, 236 Operational Conversion Unit and 36 Squadron. He was stationed at RCAF Picton, RCAF Mount Hope, RAF Penrhos, RAF Bruntingthorpe, RAF Swinderby, RAF Syerston, RAF Waddington, RAF Middleton St George, RAF Lindholme, RAF Mildenhall, RAF Shallufa, RAF Leconfield, RAF Wyton, RAF Marham, RAF Coningsby, RAF Topcliffe and RAF Kinloss. Aircraft flown in were Tiger Moth, Anson, Bolingbroke, Wellington, Stirling, Lancaster, Horsa Glider, Dakota, Washington, Lincoln and Neptune. He flew a total of 24 operations with 463 Squadron, 9 daylight and 15 night operations. He also flew 3 Operation Exodus. His pilots on operations were Flight Lieutenant Hyland and Flying Officer Young. Targets were Heilbronn, Giessen, Urft Dam, Gdynia, Politz, Merseburg Leuna, Siegen, Karlsruhe, Dresden, Dortmund-Ems Canal, Bohlen, Harburg, Dortmund, Lutzkendorf, Bremen, Farge, Nordhausen, Ijmuiden, Flensburg, Juvincourt and Brussels.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
1944-12-04
1944-12-06
1944-12-07
1944-12-08
1944-12-10
1944-12-11
1944-12-18
1944-12-19
1944-12-21
1944-12-22
1945-01-13
1945-01-14
1945-01-15
1945-02-01
1945-02-03
1945-02-13
1945-02-14
1945-03-03
1945-03-04
1945-03-05
1945-03-06
1945-03-07
1945-03-08
1945-03-12
1945-03-14
1945-03-15
1945-03-20
1945-03-21
1945-03-22
1945-03-27
1945-04-04
1945-04-07
1945-04-08
1945-04-09
1945-04-23
1945-04-26
1945-05-06
1945-05-12
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Belgium
Canada
Egypt
France
Germany
Great Britain
Netherlands
Poland
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Belgium--Brussels
Egypt--Suez Canal Region
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Durham (County)
England--Leicestershire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Norfolk
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Suffolk
England--Yorkshire
France--Rheims Region
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Bremen Region
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Dresden
Germany--Flensburg
Germany--Giessen (Hesse)
Germany--Halle an der Saale
Germany--Harburg (Landkreis)
Germany--Heilbronn
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Leipzig Region
Germany--Merseburg
Germany--Nordhausen (Thuringia)
Germany--Siegen
Germany--Urft Dam
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Ontario--Hamilton
Ontario--Picton
Poland--Gdynia
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Scotland--Moray Firth
Wales--Gwynedd
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
France--Juvincourt-et-Damary
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
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LAlgarHKM1801102v1
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
Mike Connock
Cara Walmsley
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
149 Squadron
1660 HCU
29 OTU
44 Squadron
463 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
Air Observers School
aircrew
Anson
B-29
Bolingbroke
bomb aimer
bombing
Bombing and Gunnery School
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
C-47
Cook’s tour
Heavy Conversion Unit
Horsa
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lincoln
navigator
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operational Training Unit
RAF Bruntingthorpe
RAF Coningsby
RAF Kinloss
RAF Leconfield
RAF Lindholme
RAF Marham
RAF Middleton St George
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Penrhos
RAF Shallufa
RAF Swinderby
RAF Syerston
RAF Topcliffe
RAF Waddington
RAF Wyton
Stirling
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1895/35936/SGillK1438901v40010.2.pdf
6c5c611553259b2f829c6a5fa6df2c0d
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
Gill, Kenneth
K Gill
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
2017-07-09
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
Gill, K
Description
An account of the resource
One hundred and sixty-four items plus another one hundred and fifteen in two sub-ciollections. The collection concerns Flying Officer Kenneth Gill DFC (1922 - 1945, 1438901, 155097 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, photographs and family and other correspondence. <br />He flew operations as a navigator with 9 Squadron before starting a second tour with 617 Squadron. He was killed 21 March 1945 having completed 45 operations.<br /><br />The collection also contains two albums. <br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2114">Kenneth Gill. Album One</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2117">Kenneth Gill. Album Two</a><br /><br />Additional information on Kenneth Gill is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/108654/">IBCC Losses Database.</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Derek Gill and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
ROYAL AIR FORCE
No 5 GROUP BOMBER COMMAND
617 SQUADRON R.A.F STATION WOODHALL SPA
FLYING OFFICER KENNETH GILL DFC, CROIX de GUERRE.
THE PHOTOGRAPH SHOWS THE CREW OF LANCASTER I J
ON THEIR RETURN FROM BOMBING AND SINKING OF THE GERMAN BATTLESHIP "TIRPITZ" ON THE MORNING OF 12 NOVEMBER 1944.
THE CREW HAD FIRST ATTACKED THE TIRPITZ ON 29 OCTOBER 1944 FLYING FROM:-
WOODHALL TO LOSSIEMOUTH 28/10/44 2hrs 05min
LOSSIEMOUTH-TROMSO-SKATSKA(RUSSIA) 29/10/44
(RETURNING WITH THEIR TALLBOY) 12hrs
SKATSKA TO LOSSIEMOUTH 29/10/44 1hr 15min
LOSSIEMOUTH TO WOODHALL 30/10/44 2 hrs 30min
THE SECOND ATTACK WAS PLANNED FOR THE 5 NOVEMBER 1944 BUT BAD WEATHER OVER THE TARGET PREVENTED THIS AND THE CREWS RETURNED TO WOODHALL FROM LOSSIEMOUTH.
FINALLY ON THE 11 NOVEMBER 1944 THEY TOOK OFF FROM WOODHALL:-
10-00hrs WOODHALL TO LOSSIEMOUTH 11/11/44 1hr 55min
02-15 hrs LOSSIEMOUTH-TROMSO FIORD-LOSSIEMOUTH 12/11/44 12hrs 15min (TIRPITZ SUNK) 15-00hrs LOSSIEMOUTH TO WOODHALL 13/11/44 1hs 40min
[page break]
CREW FROM LEFT TO RIGHT
SID GRIMES – WIRELESS OPERATURE
KEN GILL – NAVIGATOR
CHARLIE RANDON – BOMB AIMER
JACK PENSWICK – GUNNER
EDDY BARNETT – ENGINEER
BARNEY GUMBLEY – PILOT
[photograph]
PHOTO TAKEN FROM AIRCRAFT
[photograph]
[page break]
IJMUIDEN:-
No 617 SQUADRON RAIDS TOOK PLACE ON THE 15/12/44 AND 30/12/44.
BELOW IS THE TARGET MAP OF THE PORT AND TWO PHOTO'S OF BOMB DAMAGE, ONE SHOWING E & R BOAT PENS BEFORE COMPLETE DEMOLITION AND THE OTHER SHOWING A CRATER PRODUCED BY A TEN TON BOMB.
[photograph]
[photograph] [photograph]
[page break]
BIELEFELD : VIELESIBLE VIADUCT
No 617 SQUADRON RAIDS TOOK PLACE ON THE 6/02/45, 14/02/45, 22/02/45, 13/03/45 AND THE VIADUCT WAS FINALLY DESTROYED ON 14/03/45.
THE PHOTO BELOW WAS TAKEN BY F/O GILL'S LANCASTER ON 22/02/45 IT SHOWS THE IMPACT OF TALLBOY BOMBS DROPPED FROM 13700FT.
ON THIS RAID TWO PIECES OF THE VIADUCT WERE DESTROYED, BUT TOTAL DESTRUCTION WAS NOT ACHIEVED UNTIL 14/03/45.
[photograph]
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
Operations against Tirpitz, Ijmuiden and Bielefeld: Vielesible Viaduct
Description
An account of the resource
Description of three (one aborted due to weather) operations against Tirpitz, photograph of crew on return from sinking Tirpitz, poor photocopy of target photograph of attach on Tirpitz. Account of operation on E & R boat pens at Ijmuiden along with target photograph and two photographs showing pens before and showing craters produced by 10 ton bomb. Account of operations against Vielesible Viaduct. Target photograph of attack on viaduct.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-10-29
1944-10-30
1944-11-05
1944-11-11
1944-11-12
1944-12-15
1944-12-30
1945-02-06
1945-02-14
1945-02-22
1945-03-13
1945-03-14
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
Scotland--Moray
Norway
Norway--Tromsø
Netherlands
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Germany
Germany--Bielefeld
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
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Photograph
Text. Personal research
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Four page printed document with photographs
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SGillK1438901v40010
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
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Sue Smith
5 Group
617 Squadron
aerial photograph
air gunner
aircrew
bomb aimer
flight engineer
Lancaster
navigator
Operation Catechism (12 November 1944)
pilot
RAF Woodhall Spa
reconnaissance photograph
Tallboy
target photograph
Tirpitz
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1895/35931/SGillK1438901v40007.1.pdf
23a7b10d190492c9547f73b0dfb1562c
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
Gill, Kenneth
K Gill
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
2017-07-09
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
Gill, K
Description
An account of the resource
One hundred and sixty-four items plus another one hundred and fifteen in two sub-ciollections. The collection concerns Flying Officer Kenneth Gill DFC (1922 - 1945, 1438901, 155097 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, photographs and family and other correspondence. <br />He flew operations as a navigator with 9 Squadron before starting a second tour with 617 Squadron. He was killed 21 March 1945 having completed 45 operations.<br /><br />The collection also contains two albums. <br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2114">Kenneth Gill. Album One</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2117">Kenneth Gill. Album Two</a><br /><br />Additional information on Kenneth Gill is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/108654/">IBCC Losses Database.</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Derek Gill 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
Kenneth Gill - service history
Description
An account of the resource
Joined 18 June 1941. Trained as navigator in Canada. After operational and conversions training in England during which he flew two operations. He was posted to 9 Squadron at RAF Bardney where he flew 25 operations which are listed. After a tour as a navigator instructor, he went to 617 Squadron and flew 19 further operations and was killed along with his crew on the last. Operations on 617 listed.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941-06-18
1943-02-25
1943-03
1943-04-18
1943-04-20
1943-05-04
1943-05-11
1943-05-23
1943-05-25
1943-05-29
1943-06-11
1943-06-12
1943-06-14
1943-06-21
1943-06-25
1943-06-28
1943-07-07
1943-07-25
1943-08-07
1943-08-10
1943-08-27
1943-08-30
1943-09-03
1943-09-06
1943-10-03
1943-10-04
1943-10-20
1943-11-03
1943-11-18
1943-12-14
1944-09-27
1944-09-29
1944-10-29
1944-10-30
1944-11-04
1944-11-11
1944-11-12
1944-11-13
1944-12-08
1944-12-11
1944-12-15
1944-12-21
1944-12-29
1944-12-30
1944-12-31
1945-01-02
1945-01-30
1945-02-03
1945-02-06
1945-02-14
1945-02-22
1945-02-24
1945-03-13
1945-03-14
1945-03-19
1945-03-21
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
Great Britain
England--Rutland
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Lincolnshire
Scotland--Moray
France
France--Clermont-Ferrand
Italy
Italy--La Spezia
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Bochum
Germany--Essen
Germany--Wuppertal
Germany--Oberhausen (Düsseldorf)
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Cologne
Italy--Milan
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Rheydt
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Munich
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Leipzig
Norway
Norway--Tromsø
Germany--Euskirchen (Kreis)
Netherlands
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Poland
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Atlantic Ocean--Oslofjorden
Norway--Horten
Netherlands--Hoek van Holland
Germany--Bielefeld
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Arnsberg
Germany--Bremen
Germany
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
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
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Personal research
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Five page printed document
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending text-based transcription. Allocated
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SGillK1438901v40007
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
617 Squadron
9 Squadron
aircrew
crash
Grand Slam
Halifax
Heavy Conversion Unit
killed in action
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
mine laying
navigator
Operation Catechism (12 November 1944)
Operational Training Unit
RAF Bardney
RAF Lossiemouth
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Swinderby
RAF Syerston
RAF Woodhall Spa
Tallboy
Tirpitz
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1895/35680/LGillK1438901v1.1.pdf
1fcaf9a0c545538c4700852b3da1bf4c
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
Gill, Kenneth
K Gill
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
2017-07-09
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
Gill, K
Description
An account of the resource
One hundred and sixty-four items plus another one hundred and fifteen in two sub-ciollections. The collection concerns Flying Officer Kenneth Gill DFC (1922 - 1945, 1438901, 155097 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, photographs and family and other correspondence. <br />He flew operations as a navigator with 9 Squadron before starting a second tour with 617 Squadron. He was killed 21 March 1945 having completed 45 operations.<br /><br />The collection also contains two albums. <br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2114">Kenneth Gill. Album One</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2117">Kenneth Gill. Album Two</a><br /><br />Additional information on Kenneth Gill is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/108654/">IBCC Losses Database.</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Derek Gill 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
Kenneth Gill’s observer’s and air gunner’s flying log book
Description
An account of the resource
Observer’s and air gunner’s flying log book for K Gill, navigator, covering the period from 17 May 1942 to 21 March 1945 when he was missing on operations. Detailing his flying training, operations flown and instructor duties. He was stationed at RCAF Chatham, RAF North Luffenham, RAF Swinderby, RAF Bardney, RAF Syerston and RAF Woodhall Spa. Aircraft flown in were Anson, Wellington, Halifax, Lancaster, Hudson, Tiger Moth and Stearman. He flew a total of 46 operations, one with 29 operational training unit, one with 1660 conversion unit, 26 with 9 squadron and 18 with 617 squadron. His pilots on operations were Flight Lieutenant Evans, Flight Lieutenant Derbyshire, and Fl;ight Lieutenant Gumbley. Targets were Clermont Ferrand, Spezia, Dortmund, Duisburg, Dusseldorf, Essen, Wuppertal, Bochum, Oberhausen, Krefeld, Gelsenkirchen, Cologne, Milan, Nurnberg, Rheydt, Berlin, Munich, Kassel, Frankfurt, Leipzig, Tromso - Tirpitz, Urft Dam, IJmuiden, Politz, Rotterdam, Horten, Pootershaven, Bielefeld, Ladbergen, Arnsberg and Arbergen.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943-02-25
1943-02-26
1943-04-18
1943-04-19
1943-05-04
1943-05-05
1943-05-11
1943-05-12
1943-05-23
1943-05-24
1943-05-25
1943-05-26
1943-05-27
1943-05-28
1943-05-29
1943-05-30
1943-06-11
1943-06-12
1943-06-13
1943-06-14
1943-06-15
1943-06-21
1943-06-22
1943-06-25
1943-06-26
1943-06-28
1943-06-29
1943-07-08
1943-07-09
1943-07-25
1943-07-26
1943-08-07
1943-08-08
1943-08-10
1943-08-11
1943-08-27
1943-08-28
1943-08-30
1943-08-31
1943-09-03
1943-09-04
1943-09-06
1943-09-07
1943-10-03
1943-10-04
1943-10-05
1943-10-20
1943-10-21
1943-11-03
1943-11-04
1943-11-18
1943-11-19
1944-10-29
1944-11-11
1944-12-11
1944-12-15
1944-12-21
1944-12-22
1944-12-29
1944-12-30
1944-12-31
1945-01-01
1945-02-03
1945-02-06
1945-02-14
1945-02-22
1945-02-24
1945-03-13
1945-03-14
1945-03-19
1945-03-21
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
France
Germany
Great Britain
Italy
Netherlands
Poland
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Rutland
New Brunswick--Chatham
France--Clermont-Ferrand
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Arnsberg
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Bielefeld
Germany--Bochum
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Euskirchen Region
Germany--Essen
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Munich
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Oberhausen (Düsseldorf)
Germany--Rheydt
Germany--Wuppertal
Italy--La Spezia
Italy--Milan
Netherlands--Hoek van Holland
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Norway--Horten
Norway--Tromsø
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Germany--Bielefeld
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Arnsberg
Germany--Bremen
New Brunswick
Norway
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
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
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
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
Mike Connock
Cara Walmsley
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LGillK1438901v1
1660 HCU
29 OTU
617 Squadron
9 Squadron
Air Observers School
aircrew
Anson
bombing
Halifax
Heavy Conversion Unit
Hudson
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
mine laying
missing in action
navigator
Operation Catechism (12 November 1944)
Operational Training Unit
RAF Bardney
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Swinderby
RAF Syerston
RAF Woodhall Spa
Stearman
Tallboy
Tiger Moth
Tirpitz
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1895/35654/SGillK1438901v20033.1.jpg
fde2307b0a0c17ba5b0ab180aa523a4d
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1895/35654/SGillK1438901v40002-0005.1.jpg
30fea55d4d0470722003bdee13433f96
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1895/35654/SGillK1438901v40002-0003.1.jpg
de2425da24045e311c53dbe9e6ac7d0a
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1895/35654/SGillK1438901v40002-0004.1.jpg
398b971c145c988cc3520fe51875b306
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1895/35654/SGillK1438901v40002-0006.2.jpg
387b2c894467418a5905d9d45ebe8856
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
Gill, Kenneth
K Gill
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
2017-07-09
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
Gill, K
Description
An account of the resource
One hundred and sixty-four items plus another one hundred and fifteen in two sub-ciollections. The collection concerns Flying Officer Kenneth Gill DFC (1922 - 1945, 1438901, 155097 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, photographs and family and other correspondence. <br />He flew operations as a navigator with 9 Squadron before starting a second tour with 617 Squadron. He was killed 21 March 1945 having completed 45 operations.<br /><br />The collection also contains two albums. <br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2114">Kenneth Gill. Album One</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2117">Kenneth Gill. Album Two</a><br /><br />Additional information on Kenneth Gill is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/108654/">IBCC Losses Database.</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Derek Gill and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
IJMUIDEN:-
No 617 SQUADRON RAIDS TOOK PLACE ON THE 15/12/44 AND 30/12/44.
BELOW IS THE TARGET MAP OF THE PORT AND TWO PHOTO'S OF BOMB DAMAGE, ONE SHOWING E & R BOAT PENS BEFORE COMPLETE DEMOLITION AND THE OTHER SHOWING A CRATER PRODUCED BY A TEN TON BOMB.
[photograph]
IJMUIDEN
PORT KEY
C.I.U. No. 304
(Target Map No. S 535
[photograph] [photograph]
[page break]
[as first page]
[page break]
[photograph]
IJMUIDEN
PORT KEY
C.I.U. No. 304
(Target Map No. S 535
[page break]
[photograph as previous]
[page break]
[photograph as previous]
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
Ijmuiden operation
Description
An account of the resource
Top - description of ijmiden operations by 617 Squadron 15 and 30 December 1944.
Middle - reconnaissance photograph showing coast and port with harbour wall and basins in built up area.
Bottom left - b/w photograph of boat pens before demolition.
Bottom right - a large crater produced by 10 ton bomb. Also included is a copy of the album page and other copies of the same target photograph.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-12-15
1944-12-30
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Netherlands
Netherlands--IJmuiden
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
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Text
Text. Personal research
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Printed note and three b/w photographs mounted on an album page
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SGillK1438901v20033, SGillK1438901v40002-0003, SGillK1438901v40002-0004, SGillK1438901v40002-0005, SGillK1438901v40002-0006
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Geolocated (cumulative polygon)
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
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Sue Smith
617 Squadron
aerial photograph
bombing
reconnaissance photograph
Tallboy
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1895/35651/SGillK1438901v20029.2.pdf
b7acc641e719523b97652706b46bcb25
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
Gill, Kenneth
K Gill
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
2017-07-09
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
Gill, K
Description
An account of the resource
One hundred and sixty-four items plus another one hundred and fifteen in two sub-ciollections. The collection concerns Flying Officer Kenneth Gill DFC (1922 - 1945, 1438901, 155097 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, photographs and family and other correspondence. <br />He flew operations as a navigator with 9 Squadron before starting a second tour with 617 Squadron. He was killed 21 March 1945 having completed 45 operations.<br /><br />The collection also contains two albums. <br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2114">Kenneth Gill. Album One</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2117">Kenneth Gill. Album Two</a><br /><br />Additional information on Kenneth Gill is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/108654/">IBCC Losses Database.</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Derek Gill 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
Record of Flying Officer Kenneth Gill D.F.C (155097) RAFVR joined 1941
Description
An account of the resource
Mentions training in Canada and qualified at navigator. List training on Wellington and one operational flight while at operational training unit at RAF North Luffenham December 1942 - March 1943. Continues to list training on Halifax and Lancaster and one operation while at 1660 conversion unit RAF Swinderby March 1943 to April 1943. List flying and operations of 9 Squadron at RAF Bardney from April 1943 to November 1943. Was commissioned on 27 June 1943. Gives details of operations from F540 and F541. Awarded Distinguished Flying Cross 8 December 1943. Continues to list flying as navigation instructor at 5 Lancaster finishing school RAF Syerston from December 1943 to September 1944 when he joined 617 Squadron at RAF Woodhall Spa. List flying and operations from September 1944, including both operations against Tirpitz and many others (viaducts, boat pens, Emden, oil refinery and Urft dam) with tallboy and grand slam bombs (escorted by Spitfires or RAF P-51s). Was reported missing believed killed on operation to Abergen Railway Bridge near Bremen on 21 March 1945. Total of 46 operations. Concludes with account of loss of aircraft and loss of all crew. List crews on both 9 and 617 Squadron.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
1944
1945
1943-02-25
1943-02-26
1943-04-18
1943-04-19
1943-05-04
1943-05-05
1943-05-11
1943-05-12
1943-05-23
1943-05-24
1943-05-25
1943-05-26
1943-05-27
1943-05-28
1943-05-29
1943-05-30
1943-06-11
1943-06-12
1943-06-13
1943-06-14
1943-06-15
1943-06-21
1943-06-22
1943-06-23
1943-06-25
1943-06-26
1943-06-28
1943-06-29
1943-07-08
1943-07-09
1943-07-25
1943-07-26
1943-08-07
1943-08-08
1943-08-10
1943-08-11
1943-08-27
1943-08-28
1943-08-30
1943-08-31
1943-09-03
1943-09-04
1943-09-06
1943-09-07
1943-10-03
1943-10-04
1943-10-05
1943-10-20
1943-10-21
1943-11-03
1943-11-04
1943-11-18
1943-11-19
1944-10-29
1944-11-12
1944-12-08
1944-12-11
1944-12-15
1944-12-21
1944-12-29
1944-12-30
1944-12-31
1945-02-03
1945-02-06
1945-02-14
1945-02-22
1945-02-24
1945-03-13
1945-03-14
1945-03-19
1945-03-21
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Rutland
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Lincolnshire
France
France--Clermont-Ferrand
Germany
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Essen
Germany--Wuppertal
Germany--Bochum
Germany--Oberhausen (Düsseldorf)
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Mülheim an der Ruhr
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Cologne
Italy
Italy--Milan
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Rheydt
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Munich
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Leipzig
Norway
Norway--Tromsø
Scotland--Moray
Germany--Euskirchen Region
Netherlands
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Atlantic Ocean--Oslofjorden
Netherlands--Maassluis
Germany--Bielefeld
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Bremen
Poland
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
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
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Personal research
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Forty-seven page printed document
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending text-based transcription. Allocated
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SGillK1438901v20029
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
1660 HCU
29 OTU
5 Group
617 Squadron
9 Squadron
aircrew
bombing
Distinguished Flying Cross
FIDO
Grand Slam
Halifax
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Me 262
memorial
mine laying
missing in action
Mosquito
navigator
Operation Catechism (12 November 1944)
Operational Training Unit
P-51
promotion
RAF Bardney
RAF Lossiemouth
RAF Metheringham
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Swinderby
RAF Syerston
RAF Woodhall Spa
Spitfire
Tallboy
Tirpitz
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1895/35627/SGillK1438901v20027.2.pdf
4e1b16d68628369bb390ad6492ed4bdf
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
Gill, Kenneth
K Gill
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
2017-07-09
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
Gill, K
Description
An account of the resource
One hundred and sixty-four items plus another one hundred and fifteen in two sub-ciollections. The collection concerns Flying Officer Kenneth Gill DFC (1922 - 1945, 1438901, 155097 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, photographs and family and other correspondence. <br />He flew operations as a navigator with 9 Squadron before starting a second tour with 617 Squadron. He was killed 21 March 1945 having completed 45 operations.<br /><br />The collection also contains two albums. <br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2114">Kenneth Gill. Album One</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2117">Kenneth Gill. Album Two</a><br /><br />Additional information on Kenneth Gill is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/108654/">IBCC Losses Database.</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Derek Gill and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
My name is Derek Gill and I was born on the 20th April 1944 (same birthday as Adolph Hitler). So I am 67 years old.
I was 11 months old when my father was killed on Wednesday 21 March 1945.
My father F/O Kenneth Gill DFC was born on the 19 November 1922, when he died he was 22yrs and 4 months old.
He joined the RAF on 18 June 1941 aged 18 as a Volunteer Reserve and after initial training was transferred by Troopship on 6 Jan 1942 arriving in [inserted] Pan American Flying School Florida [/inserted] Monkton USA on the 20 January 1942 for initial Flying Training and then transferred to Canada in May 1942 until he qualified as an Air Navigator on 11 Sept 1942. [inserted] EMPIRE TRAINING COURSE. [/inserted]
On his return to the UK he joined No 29 Operational Training Unit at RAF Station North Luffenham flying Wellington Mk3's during December 1942. His first Operation was on the night of 25 Feb 1943 bombing Clermont Ferrand in France this operation took 7 hrs.
In March 1943 he was transferred to 1660 Heavy Conversion Unit at RAF Swinderby flying Halifax Mk5's and then Lancaster's.
His second Operation was in a Lancaster Mk3 on the night of 18 April 1943 flying to La Spezia in Italy Mine Laying this flight lasted 9.5 Hrs.
On 20 April 1943 he was transferred to No 9 Squadron at RAF Bardney where he flew 26 Operational Flights with the same crew except for 3 ops Pilot F/LT Derbyshire, Flight Eng. Sgt Sullivan, Navigator Sgt Gill, Wireless Operator Sgt Overend, Bomb Aimer/Front Gunner Sgt Oakes, Mid Upper Gunner Sgt Cole and Rear Gunner Sgt Parsons. In Lancaster's. Targets were: Dortmund, Duisberg, Dortmund, Dusseldorf, Essen, Wuppertal, Dusseldorf, Bochum, Oberhausen, Krefeld, Mulheim (returned early as Port outer was u/s), Gelsenkirchen, Cologne (Returned early rear turret u/s bomb load jettisoned, 21 miles from target, whilst testing rear turret a twin engine enemy aircraft made three attacks), Cologne, Essen, Milan, Nurnburg, Nurnberg(54 flak holes), Rheydt, Berlin, Munich, Kassel, Frankfurt, Leipzig, Dusseldorf, Berlin. completed on 19 November 1943 his 21st Birthday.
During these Operations was commissioned from Flt Sgt to P/O. on the 27 June 1943
On the 8 December 1943 he was awarded the DFC for his service with No 9 Squadron.
27 Dec 1943 promoted to F/O.
After completing the above missions he was transferred to No 5 Lancaster Finishing School at RAF Syerston as a Navigation Instructor (Bringing new
[page break]
Navigators up to speed on the different navigational aids being used on the Lancaster and also retraining older Navigators who where [sic] having difficulties with the new innovations.
Whilst at Syerston he met up with F/Lt Gumbley (pilot) and F/O Barnett (Flt Engineer) and at the end of their time at Syerston they were asked to join No 617 Squadron, so went around and completed the rest of the crew asking people who they new [sic] that had completed a Tour and were training new crews.
On the 27 September the New crew were transferred to No 617 Sqd RAF Woodhall Spa (Commanded by W/Cdr J B (Willie) Tait)
Pilot: Flt/Lt B.A. Gumbley DFM RNZAF Aged 29 Hawks Bay NZ.
Flt Eng: F/O E.A. Barnett (Men in Desp) Aged 21 Thorp Bay Essex.
Navigator: F/O K. Gill DFC Aged 22 Halton Leeds.
W/Op: P/O S.V. Grimes Aged 22 Suffolk.
B/A: F/O J.C. Randon Aged 23 Chesterfield Derbyshire.
A/G Mid Upper: F/Sgt J. Penswick Aged 23 London.
A/G Rear: F/Sgt G Bell Aged 23 Hull.
After training with the other crews from 30 Sept 1944 to 26 Oct 1944 they went on their first Operation with 617 flying to Lossiemouth and on the next day took off with a Tallboy Deep penetration 12000 lb Bomb, on board to attack the Tirpitz. They flew to Tromso Fjord (Norway) and after 4 runs over the Target decided that the cloud made accurate bombing impossible. For this operation the Mid-upper turret was removed in order to install the extra fuel tanks required to achieve the range to make the return flight. Even so they landed at Skatska (Coastal Command Airfield) in the Shetlands to top up with fuel as they had not allowed for returning with the Bomb on board (C/O was not impressed as if the bomb had gone off it could have wiped out the airfield), then flew to Lossiemouth returning to Woodhall Spa on the 30 Oct 1944. (Bringing the Tallboy all the way back). Top secret and scarce) 12 hrs
Only a crew of 6 as no mid-upper turret.
On the 11 November 617 and 9 Sqd returned to Lossiemouth and on the 12 flew back to Tromso Fjord and sunk the Tirpitz, bombing at 08:43 from 15400ft a Tallboy was seen to enter the water about 20 yds off the Tirpitz which capsized. (Still a crew of 6 but on this trip the mid-upper gunner was in the rear turret) 12.15 hrs
[page break]
Full Crew of 7
8 Dec Urft Dam. Not bombed as cloud cover was over target.
205 Lancs from 5 Grp carrying 1000lb bombs and 19 from 617 carrying Tallboys. 3.35 hrs
11 Dec Urft Dam Bombed from 6000 ft (Tallboy) could not see bomb burst because of cloud aircraft received minor damage to Tailplain. 5.30 hrs
15 Dec Ijmuiden E&R Boat Pens Bombed at 10000 ft hit NW corner of the Pens. 2.35 hrs
21 Dec Politz-Oil Refineries Bombed at 16900 ft (Tallboy) significant damage to target, landed at Metheringham using FIDO, transferred to Base by road and collected Aircraft on 23 Dec after fog had lifted. 9.45 hrs
24 Dec Command of 617 transferred from W/Cdr Tait to G/C Fauquier
29 Dec Rotterdam E&R Boat Pens Bombed at 16660 ft (Tallboy) Bomb unobserved owing to smoke, a good many near misses, no direct hits seen. 2.50 hrs
30 Dec Ijmuiden E&R Boat Pens Solid cloud over target did not bomb.
Tallboy returned. 2.20 hrs
31 Dec Horten (Oslo Fjord) Cruisers Kolin and Emden Ships travelling at up to 30 Knots difficult to bomb accurately, later on Crews were forced to bomb by moonlight or aim at the source of Flak some crews returned with their Tallboys. Bombed at 00.15 hrs from 10200 ft (Tallboy) near miss on port side of ship, ship appeared to stop. Later identified as a 10000 ton transport ship.
7.45 hrs.
3 Feb 1945 Pootershaven E&R Boat Pens (Midget Submarines) Bombed at 1552 from 13500 ft (Tallboy), bombed into smoke over the aiming point, Aircraft hit by Flak, fuselage and rear turret damaged, not seriously, no casualties.
2.50 hrs.
[page break]
6 Feb Bielefeld (Vielesible Viaduct) Aborted Aircraft targeted by accurate Flak on return route no damage suffered
5.45 hrs
14 Feb Bielefeld (Vielesible Viaduct) Aborted Flak encountered as the aircraft crossed the Rhine.
4.50 hrs
22 Feb Bielefeld (Vielesible (Viaduct) Target comprised two parallel twin track Railway Viaducts. Bombed at 16.10 (Second run Tallboy) 13700 ft. 3 arches at the western viaduct collapsed, but rail link remained on the other two tracks.
4.30 hrs.
24 Feb Dortmund-Ems Canal Aborted Recalled 30 miles from target because of unfavourable weather conditions.
4.40 hrs
13 Mar Bielefeld (Vieiesible Viaduct) Aborted 2 Aircraft were B1 (Specials) carrying the new 22000 lb Grand Slam Bomb (G/C Fauquier & S/L Calder). The aircraft were modified to carry the Grand Slam, Bomb doors removed and the fairings of the bomb bay, deletion of the Mid-Upper Turret and also the Main Radio and the Wireless Operator
4.20 hrs
14 Mar Bielifeld [sic] (Vieiesible Viaduct) Bombed at 1628 hrs from 11600 ft (Tallboy) Bomb believed to be a direct hit, S/L Calder Grand Slam falling 30 yds from viaduct (G/C Fauquier aircraft went u/s at start up. 460 ft of both Viaducts Destroyed Rail link severed completely.
5.00 hrs
19 Mar Arnberg Viaduct Bombed at 10.54 hrs from 12700 ft (Grand Slam) Bomb fell 50 yds south of aiming point as Pilots Bomb Aiming Indicator was not recording the Bomb Aimers alterations. Two or Three Spans of the Viaduct were brought down.
5.20 hrs
21 Mar Arbergen Railway Bridge near Bremen. The bridge was a double track Rail link across the river Weser 200 yds long.
[page break]
On this occasion Flak in the area was more intense and a number of Aircraft were damaged. A number of Me262 Jet Fighters were also encountered after bombing. The Target was rendered unusable although the main bridge was still intact.
The aircraft was a B1 Special although it was carrying a Tallboy, on this mission there were only 5 crew members onboard.
The Aircraft was hit by Flak during its run up to the target and dropped out of formation, causing F/Lt Price to take avoiding action. British records state that the aircraft received a direct hit and dived down out of control.
Witnesses on the ground gave a different account "The aircraft went down passing over the village of Okel heading in the direction of Riede at a hight [sic] of 2000ft. They do not mention that the aircraft was on fire at this stage, but state that it seemed to be flying extremely slow. As it flew over Riede the locale Flak Battery went into action, hitting one of the engines and setting the fuselage on fire. The aircraft made a 180 degree turn back towards Okel and crashed into a field. The witnesses said the aircraft did not explode immediately, but before it could be reached there was a violent explosion, reducing the aircraft to fragments and creating a crater 50ft deep by 100ft diameter.
The RAF Missing Research and Enquiry Service failed to find any German documentation regarding the incident or trace any burial for the crew. The identity of Fl/Lt Randon was established from a document found at the crash site leaving no doubt about the identity of the aircraft. Having no known grave the crew are commemorated on the RAF Memorial at Runnymede, my fathers name appears on Panel 267 and also on the 617 Sqd Memorial at Woodhall Spa, Lincolnshire.
The Crew Comprised of:-
Pilot F/Lt B.A. Gumbly DFM RNZAF,
Flt Eng F/O A.E. Barnett (Men in Desp)
Navigator F/O K. Gill DFC CdG
Bomb Aimer F/Lt J.C. Randon
Rear-Gunner P/O G. Bell.
F/O K. Gill Total Flying Time Day Time 388.10hrs (74.45 Operations)
Night Time 279.15hrs (171.30 Operations)
Total Time 667.25hrs (246.15 Operations)
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
Biography of Kenneth Gill by son Derek
Description
An account of the resource
Gives service history of Kenneth Gill including training in Canada as navigator, training in England, operations on 9 Squadron with list of his crew. Details targets attacked. Commissioned and awarded Distinguished Flying Cross. After tour on Lancaster finishing school transferred to 617 Squadron, lists crew. Details operations and targets while on 617 Squadron. Includes attack on Tirpitz with tallboy bombs and list other attacks with this weapon. Describes final operation where Me 262s encountered but his aircraft was hit by anti-aircraft fire and crashed when unreleased weapons exploded, All crew killed. Lists crew.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
D Gill
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-04-20
1941-06-08
1942-01-06
1941-01-20
1942-09-11
1943-02-25
1943-03
1943-04-20
1943-11-19
1943-06-27
1943-12-27
1944-09-27
1944-10
1944-11-11
1944-12
1945-01
1945-02
1945-03
1945-03-21
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
New Brunswick--Moncton
United States
Florida
France
France--Clermont-Ferrand
England--Rutland
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
Italy
Italy--La Spezia
Germany
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Essen
Germany--Wuppertal
Germany--Bochum
Germany--Oberhausen (Düsseldorf)
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Mülheim an der Ruhr
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Cologne
Italy--Milan
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Rheydt
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Munich
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Leipzig
Scotland--Moray
Norway
Norway--Tromsø
Germany--Euskirchen (Kreis)
Netherlands
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Poland
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Atlantic Ocean--Oslofjorden
Germany--Bielefeld
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Bremen
Great Britain
New Brunswick
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
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
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Personal research
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Five page printed document
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SGillK1438901v20027
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
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2011
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Sue Smith
1660 HCU
29 OTU
617 Squadron
9 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bomb aimer
bombing
crash
Distinguished Flying Cross
flight engineer
Grand Slam
Halifax
Halifax Mk 5
Heavy Conversion Unit
killed in action
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lancaster Mk 3
Me 262
memorial
navigator
Operation Catechism (12 November 1944)
Operational Training Unit
pilot
RAF Bardney
RAF Lossiemouth
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Swinderby
RAF Syerston
RAF Woodhall Spa
Tallboy
Tirpitz
training
Wellington
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1898/35375/LPenswickJ[Ser -DoB]v1.pdf
a2b5f946091570f95e5cfc73e2e49f7f
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
Penswick, Jack
J Penswick
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
2017-07-09
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
Penswick, J
Description
An account of the resource
19 items. The collection concerns Jack Penswick (1497486 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book and photographs. He flew operations as an air gunner with 61 and 617 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by John Penswick and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
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
Jack Penswick’s observer’s and air gunner’s flying log book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LPenswickJ[Ser#-DoB]v1
Description
An account of the resource
Observer’s and air gunner’s flying log book for J Penswick, air gunner, covering the period from 25 October 1942 to 19 May 1945. Detailing his flying training, operation flown and instructor duties. He was stationed at RAF Morpeth, RAF North Luffenham, RAF Swinderby, RAF Syerston, RAF Scampton, RAF Woodhall Spa and RAF Upper Heyford. Aircraft flown in were Botha, Wellington, Manchester, Lancaster, Oxford, and Martinet. He flew a total of 30 operations, 16 with 61 Squadron (surviving a bale out) and 14 with 617 Squadron. Targets were Dusseldorf, Bochum, Oberhausen, Cologne, Krefeld, Mulheim, Wuppertal, Gelsenkirchen, Milan, Munchengladbach, Berlin, Mannheim, Munich, Hannover, Flixecourt, Liege, Tromso, Urft Dam, Ijmuiden, Politz, Rotterdam, Oslo Fjord, Dortmund-Ems Canal, the Tirpitz, Bielefeld and Arnsberg viaducts. His pilots on operations were Sergeant Pearce, Pilot Officer Willsher and Flight Lieutenant Gumbley.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943-06-11
1943-06-12
1943-06-13
1943-06-14
1943-06-15
1943-06-16
1943-06-17
1943-06-21
1943-06-22
1943-06-23
1943-06-24
1943-06-25
1943-06-26
1943-08-14
1943-08-15
1943-08-30
1943-08-31
1943-09-01
1943-09-03
1943-09-04
1943-09-05
1943-09-06
1943-09-07
1943-09-23
1943-09-24
1943-12-16
1943-12-17
1943-12-20
1943-12-21
1944-11-11
1944-12-08
1944-12-11
1944-12-15
1944-12-21
1944-12-22
1944-12-29
1944-12-30
1944-12-31
1945-01-01
1945-02-24
1945-03-13
1945-03-14
1945-03-19
1944-11-12
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Belgium
France
Germany
Great Britain
Italy
Netherlands
Norway
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Atlantic Ocean--Oslofjorden
Belgium--Liège
England--Leicestershire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Northumberland
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Oxfordshire
France--Abbeville Region
Germany--Arnsberg
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Bielefeld
Germany--Bochum
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Euskirchen Region
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Mannheim
Germany--Mönchengladbach
Germany--Mülheim an der Ruhr
Germany--Munich
Germany--Oberhausen (Düsseldorf)
Germany--Schleswig-Holstein
Germany--Wuppertal
Italy--Milan
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Norway--Tromsø
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Poland
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
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
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
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
Mike Connock
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942
1943
1944
1945
16 OTU
1660 HCU
29 OTU
61 Squadron
617 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
air gunner
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
bale out
bombing
Botha
Grand Slam
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Manchester
Martinet
Operation Catechism (12 November 1944)
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
RAF Morpeth
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Scampton
RAF Swinderby
RAF Syerston
RAF Upper Heyford
RAF Woodhall Spa
Tallboy
Tirpitz
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1970/33701/LWakefieldHE174040v1.1.pdf
6abf5d017113b82dd6d95a604f4f8667
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
Wakefield, Harold Ernest
H E Wakefield
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
2017-10-16
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
Wakefield, HE
Description
An account of the resource
93 items. The collection concerns Harold Ernest Wakefield DFC (1923 - 1986, 1582185 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, training publications, decorations and badges, training notebooks, correspondence, newspaper cuttings, photographs and parachute D ring.
He flew operations as a flight engineer with 51 and 617 Squadrons.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Jeremy Wakefield 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
Harrold Wakefield's navigator's, air bombers and air gunner's flying log book
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
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LWakefieldHE174040v1
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.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Description
An account of the resource
Harold Wakefield's RAF Navigator's, Air Bomber’s and Air Gunner's Flying Log Book, from 16th August 1943 to 16th August 1946, recording training, operations, instructional duties and Transport Command duties to India and the Far East as a flight engineer. Based at RAF Marston Moor (1652 Conversion Unit), RAF Snaith (51 Squadron), RAF North Luffenham (Heavy Glider Conversion Unit), RAF Syerston (5 Lancaster Finishing School), RAF Woodhall Spa (617 Squadron), RAF Riccall (1332 Heavy Conversion Unit), RAF Holmsley South (246 Squadron) and RAF Lyneham (511 Squadron). Aircraft in which flown: Halifax, Oxford, Whitley, Lancaster, Horsa Glider, York. Records a total of 59 operations in two tours (23 day, 36 night) including 10 returned early or did not drop bombs. Targets in France, Germany, Netherlands and Norway are: Alencon, Amiens, Arnsburg, Augsburg, Berlin, Bielfeld, Bochum, Bremen, Chateau Dun, Colline Beaumont, Dortmund Ems Canal, Dusseldorf, Essen, Farge, Fouillard, Frankfurt-Main, Hamburg, Hanover, Heligoland, Herquelingue, Ijmuiden, Kassel, Leipzig, Leverkusen, Lille, Ludwigshafen, Mannheim, Mont Fleury, Morsalines, Nienburg, Orleans, Oslo Fiord (German cruisers “Emden” and “Koln”), Politz, Poortershafen, Rotterdam, Stuttgart, Trappes and Urft Dam. His pilots on operations were Squadron Leader Johnson and Squadron Leader Calder. Also includes notes of dates of promotion and award of DFC, lists of crews and a picture of a Halifax Mk III. Some detailed notes on ops with 617 Squadron.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-09-22
1943-09-23
1943-09-24
1943-09-27
1943-09-28
1943-09-29
1943-10-03
1943-10-04
1943-10-05
1943-10-08
1943-10-09
1943-11-03
1943-11-18
1943-11-19
1943-11-22
1943-11-23
1943-11-25
1943-11-26
1943-12-03
1943-12-04
1943-12-29
1943-12-30
1944-01-28
1944-01-29
1944-01-30
1944-01-31
1944-02-19
1944-02-20
1944-02-21
1944-02-25
1944-02-26
1944-03-01
1944-03-02
1944-03-06
1944-03-15
1944-03-16
1944-03-18
1944-03-19
1944-03-26
1944-03-27
1944-04-09
1944-05-10
1944-05-11
1944-05-12
1944-05-22
1944-05-23
1944-06-05
1944-06-06
1944-06-07
1944-06-08
1944-06-09
1944-06-12
1944-06-13
1944-06-15
1944-06-16
1944-12-08
1944-12-11
1944-12-15
1944-12-15
1944-12-21
1944-12-29
1944-12-30
1944-12-31
1945-01-01
1945-02-03
1945-02-06
1945-02-08
1945-02-14
1945-02-22
1945-02-24
1945-03-13
1945-03-14
1945-03-15
1945-03-19
1945-03-21
1945-03-22
1945-03-23
1945-03-27
1945-04-06
1945-04-07
1945-04-09
1945-04-19
1946
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
France
Germany
Great Britain
India
Middle East
Netherlands
Norway
England--Hampshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Rutland
England--Wiltshire
England--Yorkshire
France--Alençon
France--Amiens
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
France--Brittany
France--Châteaudun
France--Lille
France--Normandy
France--Orléans
France--Pas-de-Calais
France--Yvelines
Germany--Augsburg
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Bielefeld
Germany--Bochum
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Essen
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Helgoland
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Leverkusen
Germany--Ludwigshafen am Rhein
Germany--Mannheim
Germany--Nienburg (Lower Saxony)
Poland--Szczecin
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Urft Dam
Netherlands--Hoek van Holland
Netherlands--Ijmuiden
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Poland
Germany--Herne (Arnsberg)
Germany--Hannover
Atlantic Ocean--Oslofjorden
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
France--Herquelingue
France--Morsalines
France--Ver-Sur-Mer
France--Manche
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Leitch
1652 HCU
51 Squadron
617 Squadron
aircrew
bombing
bombing of Helgoland (18 April 1945)
bombing of the Normandy coastal batteries (5/6 June 1944)
Distinguished Flying Cross
flight engineer
Grand Slam
Halifax
Halifax Mk 3
Heavy Conversion Unit
Horsa
Ju 88
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Me 262
mid-air collision
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Oxford
promotion
RAF Lyneham
RAF Marston Moor
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Riccall
RAF Snaith
RAF Syerston
RAF Woodhall Spa
Tallboy
training
Whitley
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/193/30990/BYeomanHTYeomanHTv1-01.1.pdf
8262794404d2ef0dfee19a3f5bd97a8e
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/193/30990/BYeomanHTYeomanHTv1-02.2.pdf
7e6e96679a1915a0c9b98fb636e9cf11
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
Yeoman, Harold
Harold Yeoman
Harold T Yeoman
H T Yeoman
Description
An account of the resource
31 items. Collection concerns Harold Yeoman (b. 1921 1059846 and 104405 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a pilot with 12 Squadron. Collection contains an oral history interview, a memoir, pilot's flying log book, 26 poems, a photograph and details of trail of Malayan collaborator.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Christopher E. Potts 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
2016-10-28
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
Yeoman, HT
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Start of transcription
[underlined] LOOSE ON THE WIND [/underlined]
Harold Yeoman
[page break]
To those who never came back.
[page break]
Their voices, dying as they fly,
Loose on the wind are sown;
The names of men blow soundless by,
My fellows’ and my own.
A.E. Houseman,
“A Shropshire Lad”, XXXVIII.
“And how can a life be loved that hath so may embitterments, [sic] and is subject to so many calamities and miseries? How too can it be called a life, that begetteth [sic] so many deaths and plagues?”
Thomas a Kempis,
“The Imitation of Christ”.
[page break]
[underlined] LOOSE ON THE WIND [/underlined]
Author’s foreword
Never no more
We would never fly like that
Lennie
It makes you think
‘Yes, my darling daughter’
Crewing-up
Images of mortality
Tony
Mind you don’t scratch the paint
Rabbie
Letter home
Low-level
A boxful of broken china
The end of Harry
Silver spoon boy
Intermezzo
Overshoot
First solo
The pepper pot
Approach and landing
Knight’s move
A different kind of love
Sun on a chequered tea-cosy
Photograph in a book
Glossary
[page break]
[underlined] AUTHOR’S FOREWORD [/underlined]
During the years of the Second World War, some 90,000 men, from the British Isles, from the great Dominions overseas and from the countries of Europe overrun by the German enemy, volunteered as aircrew in Bomber Command of the Royal Air Force. Of these men, over 55,000 were to lose their lives and, to this day, more than 20,000 of that total have no known graves. In one particular operation there were more Bomber Command aircrew killed than there were casualties during the entire Battle of Britain.
There were many men whose names will bear for ever an aura of unfading brilliance, men such as Leonard Cheshire, (whom for a brief time I was privileged to know) such as Guy Gibson, or John Searby. There were also the thousands who could not aspire to the greatness of those remarkable men, to their almost unbelievable heights of courage and achievement. To attempt to assess what we in Bomber Command did achieve is no part of my aim. Much greater minds and more highly skilled pens than mine have already done this. This small piece of writing is solely an attempt, through the window of personal recollection, to tell of a few of the incidents which affected me and of a few of the splendid young men whom I was fortunate enough to know and to call my friends. Many, all too many of them, alas, gave their lives as part of the price of our freedom, the freedom from an unspeakable tyranny, that freedom which we now so casually enjoy and take so easily for granted. If, in this small book, I have planted their names like seeds in the garden of future years for even a few eyes other than my own to read, for a few other minds to remember, then I shall have done what I set out to do.
An eminent air historian has recently quoted some words which I wrote to him, words which I now venture to repeat. I said, “We simply had our jobs to do and we tried to do them as best we could.” I believe that sums it up.
Harold Yeoman
November 1994
[page break]
[inserted] [underlined] Never no more [/underlined] [/inserted]
“….. And through the glasse [sic] wyndow [sic]
Shines the sone. [sic]
How should I love, and I so young? …..”
(Anon.)
[page break]
[underlined] NEVER NO MORE [/underlined]
There was something icy cold running down my face and a brilliant light was shining into my eyes.
“What on earth?” I heard myself mutter.
I came to rapidly out of a deep sleep and tried to wriggle away from the cold wetness which was finding its way down my pyjama collar, but I could not escape it, nor the blinding glare.
“What’s going on?” I half-shouted, then I saw her hand holding the dripping sponge. Bright sunshine was pouring through my window that winter morning.
A pale, laughing face framed in jet-black hair behind the hand. She was sitting on the side of my bed.
“Betty!” I shouted, “Stop it! What the heck are you doing?”
“Saturday,” she answered brightly, twisting the sponge away from my hand, “Saturday, and it’s your day off. We were going for a walk, do you remember?”
Her dark, lustrous eyes shone with mischief. I wiped my face on the sleeve of my pyjama jacket and shuddered with the cold. I tried to pull the blankets back around me, but she pulled them firmly down again to chest level. What on earth would my parents think, I wondered, a young girl coming into my bedroom – they’d have a fit. It was almost too much for them when I’d insisted on volunteering for aircrew when I was nineteen, but this - !
“I’ve brought you a cup of tea; now hurry up and drink it, ‘cos it’s breakfast time.”
Betty got off the bed, handed me the cup and made for the door.
“Don’t be long now, and if you don’t take me for that walk, I’ll never speak to you again, never no more.”
“What, never, never no more?” I mimicked.
“No, never no more.”
She grinned, but pretended to be in a huff and flounced out, tossing her shiny black hair which gleamed like coal in the morning sunlight. It became a silly, affectionate catch-phrase between us.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
[page break]
We had arrived at the Knight’s home at almost the same time; Betty from Coventry, after the air-raid, I from Initial Training Wing, to start my flying training at Sywell, a few miles from the centre of Northampton. We had seen the bombing from a safe distance, out of the train windows, on the way up from our I.T.W. at Torquay overnight. We had stopped, miles from anywhere, for hours, it seemed, while the raid progressed. We could hear the Jerries droning overhead and saw the fire on the horizon.
“Someone’s getting a hell of a pasting,” we had said.
Betty, then, was a refugee. Near misses from H.E.s had decided her parents to evacuate her from the shattered and blazing city to the safer home of her aunt and uncle; the R.A.F. billeting authorities had decided to send me to the Knights at the same time. So we quickly became friends; we were both of an age and of similar dispositions, light-hearted, fun-loving, undemanding and contented by nature. Two of a kind, I thought.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
We walked in Abington Park. It was brilliantly sunny but bitterly cold, a wonderful December day. There was snow on the ground, the bare trees were black and stark against the clear winter sky. With my white u/t pilot’s flash in the front of my forage cap I swaggered a little. Why not? I was very proud of it. My buttons gleamed, my boots shone like glass.
“Bags of swank!” our drill Corporal used to shout at us as we marched through Torquay, and we obeyed that command, always. I was proud of myself and I was proud to be walking out with Betty. She was a lovely girl, her face in repose calm and radiant as some Italian Renaissance Madonna in a painting.
“No, I haven’t gone solo yet,” I was saying as we walked, “but I’ve only done nine hours up to now, you know”
“How long will it take you, do you think?”
“Oh, any minute now, but my instructor puts me off a bit, he is rather bad-tempered.”
(‘Can you see that other aircraft?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well then, are you going to fly round it or through it?’)
“That’s not very nice, is it?”
“No, not very, but I try not to let him put me off.”
[page break]
“Will you be getting any leave at Christmas?”
“Don’t suppose so, Betty; I mean to say, I’ve only been in three months altogether and we did get a 48 hour pass from Torquay, you know.”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
The Knights had a radiogram in the lounge of their comfortable semi-detached house.
“Look what I got for Christmas,” Betty exclaimed, holding out a blue-labelled record in its cardboard envelop, “would you like to hear it?”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Hutch.”
I had little or no idea who or what Hutch was, then.
“Yes, please,” I said.
She put the record on and straightened up, standing before me in her simple, grey dress. The creamy, brown voice came out of the loudspeaker and I was immediately seized by some emotion which I had never before experienced.
“That certain night, the night we met,
There was magic abroad in the air,” sang Hutch, and Betty was humming the tune along with him.
“There were angels dining at the Ritz
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.”
To this day, when I play that on my hi-fi and hear Hutch’s lovely velvet voice and perfect diction, I am back with Betty at Mrs. Knight’s, falling beautifully and adolescently in love with her from the exact moment that she played me that song. I find it, still, an unbearably moving experience, one which brings a lump into my throat and tears to my eyes.
“Did you like that? Do you want to hear the other side?”
“Oh, yes, please, I’d like to.”
On the other side was “All the things you are,” and it couldn’t have fitted my mood better, either. She was all the things which Hutch was singing about.
“That’s a wizard record, Betty,” I said. She smiled happily.
. . . . . . . . . . .
[page break]
“Gosh, I’ve never had champagne before, Mr. Knight,” I said.
“Well, you went solo on Christmas Eve, when we were away and now you’ve done your first solo cross-country today, so you can try some, to celebrate, apart from the fact that it’s New Year’s Day, of course.”
“Well, thanks very much, and – cheers!”
“Cheers,” from Mr. Knight, “and happy landings.”
“Chocks away,” Betty said. Now where had she learned that?
“Would you like to hear another new record?”
“Oh, yes, I would, very much. What is it?”
“’You’d be so nice to come home to’, it’s called,” she said, “do you know it?”
“No, I’ve never heard that one.”
She put the record on and I listened as I sipped the unfamiliar but strangely disappointing wine. I thought, “Yes, you would be so nice to come home to, Betty darling.” Maybe it was the wine after all.
But I really didn’t know how to say that sort of thing to her. How did one start? Besides, my mind was still full of the voice of Flying Officer Lines from earlier that wonderful day.
“You don’t need me, do you? I am going to have a sleep. Wake me up if anything goes wrong.”
And pulling out his speaking tube he had wriggled down into the front cockpit, out of the slipstream, that New Year’s morning, as I set course, droning over snowy Sywell in the bitterly cold sunshine. He was a Battle of Britain Hurricane pilot, instructing for a so-called rest, and trusting me, with only thirty hours in my log-book, to fly from Sywell to unknown Cambridge, land, and come back again. If you did the trip without assistance from your instructor it counted as solo time, and I had done that. My cup of happiness was full, that day.
“You’d be paradise to come home to and love”, went the song as the record ended.
I sighed.
“Yes, she would be,” I thought, “but how on earth do you go about actually saying things like that to Betty?”
There were all manner of things I undoubtedly wanted to say to
[page break]
her. But I hadn’t even kissed her yet, and you couldn’t say some things without kissing somebody first, could you? Besides, she might not want me to. So how, and when, did, or could, one start? It was very difficult, rather like trying to do a perfect three-point landing.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Every other Friday we were paid. I was rich beyond my wildest imaginings. From the two shillings a day at Torquay I had progressed to no less than five pounds four shillings each fortnight. That was as a mere Leading Aircraftman. What I would be paid if ever I became a Sergeant pilot the imagination simply couldn’t tell me. I used to split the money carefully into equal parts and with one half burning a hole in my pocket and the Friday evening feeling joyously pervading my system my little world was at my feet until Monday morning. I would go into Northampton, to the “Black Boy” in the main square, for a mixed grill and a pint of black-and-tan, sometimes with Len or Eric, sometimes alone. It became the high point of my week.
We would sit and talk flying to our hearts’ content, comparing notes on our experiences. In retrospect how limited they were and how naive we were, and yet how miraculous and other-worldly it seemed to me to know the unutterable thrill of open-cockpit flying in the freezing winter air, strapped tightly into the fragile machine whose engine purred bravely in front of me; the wonder of the view of the blue-green and white hazy landscape spread out below, the icy slipstream on my numbed face, the thrill of the response, under my hands and feet, of the aircraft to small, smooth movements of the controls. There was the magic of the rising, tilting and falling of the snow-covered, mottled, dim countryside, blotched with the smoke of towns, the dazzling red disc of the sun as it set in the haze, the ecstasy of sideslipping [sic] in over the hedge and of smoothly straightening out the glide to set her down for a perfect three-pointer on to the frosty grass near the other Tigers, while a few fellow-pupils watched critically, and while over at the Vickers shed the engines of a great black Wellington rumbled ominously.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
[page break]
“Are you coming down to the Y.M. tonight, Harold?”
My head was down over my books, in the dining room. I wasn’t finding the theory of flight too easy.
“Oh. Yes, I’ll be along; are you going to be there?”
“Well, I work there there [sic] three nights a week now, you know. Auntie thought I should do something to help the war effort until I’m called up.”
(Called up? I hadn’t thought of that; somehow I couldn’t imagine Betty in uniform.)
“O.K., I’ll see you down there later, then, I’ve got just about an hour’s work to do. Keep a chocolate biscuit for me, will you?”
She waggled her fingers, crinkled her nose smilingly, and went out.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I landed for the last time at Sywell in a Tiger Moth, sideslipping [sic] off the height and greasing her down on to the grass. I let the aircraft rumble to a halt, then I taxied carefully to the dispersal tents, faced her into wind and switched off. The prop juddered to a stop. An erk ducked down to chock the wheels. Dusk was beginning to fall; I could see Alex Henshaw, Vickers’ Chief Test Pilot, on the circuit in his Spitfire. Everyone always stopped whatever they were doing to watch him fly, it was part of our education. But my eyes always returned to the huge black bulk of the Wellington by their hangar. I pulled out my harness pin and released the straps carefully, so as not to damage the aircraft’s fabric. I sighed and reluctantly, as one would part from a girl, I climbed out of the cockpit. A chapter had ended.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
“I don’t know exactly where, Betty, except that it’s overseas. The lads are all saying Canada, but no-one ever tells us much. I suppose we’ll not know until we get there. There’s a few posted to S.F.T.S.s in England, Hullavington, Cranfield, places like that, but ten of us are definitely on the boat.”
She looked down at her cup of tea. We were sitting together in
[page break]
the Y.M.C.A.; she had an hour off duty. The place was full of uniforms, but I scarcely notice them, I only had eyes for her.
“Will it be soon?”
“Next week, they think.”
“Harold - ?”
“Yes, what?”
“Oh, well, nothing. You will write, won’t you?”
“Of course I will, Betty, yes, I’ll write to you as often as I can.”
“What will you be flying?”
“Harvards or Oxfords, I suppose, I’m not really sure.”
“What do you want to go on to, fighters or bombers?”
(Strange, how civilians thought there were only those two categories of pilot, but I suppose the news the press and radio gave concerned mainly those two. After all, they were the types mostly at the sharp end of things. But I thought of Betty, huddled fearfully in the shelter, that night of the Coventry raid and I felt a sudden and great anger that she should have had to endure that. And I thought of the Wellington over at the Vickers hangar at the aerodrome, sinister, powerful, black, and from then on I was never in any doubt.)
“Bombers,” I said firmly, “definitely bombers.”
. . . . . . . . . . .
It is strange that I don’t remember saying goodbye to Betty, nor to the Knights, if it comes to that. I must have done so, of course, but sadly, I cannot bring the occasions to mind.
I did go to Canada. Once we got out west we worked hard and we flew hard, by day and by night. We got no leave, very little time off. We didn’t particularly want any. Things were getting rather urgent back home. Besides, I wanted to hurry back to Betty, and to my parents, too, of course.
I wrote to her as often as I could. She sent me her photograph, smiling and lovely in that grey dress, but I’m afraid I haven’t got it now. I got my wings a few days before my twentieth birthday. In the late summer, after a stopover in Iceland, I was back in England, and with a couple of Canadian chaps, splendid fellows whom I had
[page break]
met on the boat, I was posted to a Wellington Operational Training Unit at Bassingbourne, not too far from Northampton. Most of my buddies went on to fighters. As it happened, they had a little more future than us bomber boys. Not much, but a little. Of course, I was longing to see Betty again.
As soon as I had settled in I phoned the Knights one evening. It was an interminable business, repeating their number to different operators, waiting while the line buzzed and crackled, while disembodied and unreal voices spoke unintelligibly to one another in hasty, clipped syllables. In the end, a man’s voice spoke up.
“Is that Mr. Knight?”
“Yes, who is that?”
“It’s Harold.”
“Harold! How are you? Where are you speaking from?”
I told him Bassingbourn. We were allowed to do that so long as we didn’t give the name of our unit.
“How’s Mrs. Knight?”
“Oh, she’s fine, she’s down at the Y.M. this evening, on duty.”
“I see. And Betty, is she still with you?”
There was a slight pause. I thought we must have been cut off. Then he said, “No, she went back home a little while ago. Things are a bit quieter now, you know.”
“Yes, I understand. But how is she? I’d love to see her again.”
“Well, actually, Harold, she’s fine. But look, did you know – did she mention that she’s getting engaged?”
I felt as though I’d flown slap into a mountainside in the dark. I swallowed with difficulty, the perspiration had broken out on my forehead and my hand holding the receiver was trembling.
“No,” I said, “I didn’t know that.”
“Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.”
“No, I hadn’t heard that.”
“Yes; he’s quite a nice chap, a bit older than she is, works in a car factory, I believe.”
We didn’t talk long after that; I was too stunned to think very straight. I’m afraid I never saw the Knights again, and I am truly sorry, for they were good, nice people and they were extremely kind to me. I made a mess of my flying during the next few days.
[page break]
I still think about Betty. I have quite a substantial record collection and after years of fruitless searching I finally got the record of Hutch singing what has become for me a poignant song, that song about the nightingale. And when I play it I can see Betty’s lovely face, pale and calm, like the Madonna, and I can visualise the gleam of the firelight on her jet-black hair, that winter afternoon in Northampton.
I wonder, often I wonder, what became of her. Dear Betty, I shall never forget you for you were my first love. What happened? Where did I go wrong? I don’t know why I should feel so very sad when I think of those days, for they were truly among the happiest of my life.
Sometimes, too, I think of the way she used to laugh, and of her words; I can almost hear her voice speaking to me, as though she were in the room here. But I know I shall never see her again and now, the touching little phrase sounds only like a cry of despair in the night – “Never no more, never no more.”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
[page break]
[inserted] [underlined] We would never fly like that. [/underlined] [/inserted]
[page break]
[underlined] WE WOULD NEVER FLY LIKE THAT [/underlined]
After I had described the incident to him, with inevitable, automatic use of a pilot’s illustrative gestures of the hands, he thought briefly about it, then looking directly at me, “You ought to write about it,” he said, “Why don’t you put it on paper?”
The following day I awoke early in the morning, earlier than usual, even for me, with his words still sounding in my ears. And remembering the words with which I had described the events of almost sixty years previously still fresh and vivid in my mind, I took up pencil and paper.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Now, in the dying days of the twentieth century, almost every summer week-end, all over the land, you may buy your ticket for some air display. You may sit in your car with the doors open to admit the pleasant breeze, the warm air, the chatter of the crowd, the over-emphatic loudspeaker announcements, or you may lounge upon your hired camp-chair, your sunglasses shading your eyes as you look upwards into the limitless blue clarity of the sky, and watch, to the accompaniment of the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ of the hundreds of spectators, the improbable antics of the ugly, purpose-built, monstrously-powered aircraft, meretriciously decorated with advertisements, performing their violent and ugly aerial manoeuvres. To me, the vicious use by their pilots of stick and rudder palls after only a few seconds, and I think, perhaps nostalgically, that I would much rather watch fewer and simpler aerobatics performed by pilots in standard military aircraft. And as I ponder this my thoughts are led back to a day on a Northamptonshire aerodrome when I was beginning my elementary pilot training in the R.A.F.
The time was the sever winter of 1940-41. The Battle of Britain had just been won; Coventry had only very recently been devastated by the Luftwaffe in one catastrophic night raid. I was one of twenty or so young men on our course. Most of us had never seen an aircraft at close quarters until we arrived at No. 6 Elementary Flying Training School. Here, there
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were Tiger Moths – biplanes, gentlemen’s aeroplanes, as I heard them many times described. They were docile, forgiving, vice-less, sensitive to both hands and feet, a sheer joy to handle once the initial strangeness of the sensation of controlling an aircraft in three dimensions had worn off. Most of us, I fancy, could see ahead no further than going solo on them, then completing the course with the required fifty or so flying hours before we went on to the next stage in our training, a Service Flying Training School. But we did not look far into the future; we did not know nor could we imagine what was coming to us. Perhaps, in many cases, this was just as well. All we knew was that we were, each one of us, filled with an unquenchable desire and zeal to qualify eventually as pilots in the finest Air Force in the world, to become – and we thought this and spoke of it without embarrassment or apology to any man – the elite of all the armed forces, an opinion which I will hold with pride today.
So we flew and we studied flying and talked of little else but the theory and practice of flying. We questioned one another. We pored [sic] over pilots’ notes and airmanship notes and navigation books and the Morse Code. We questioned our instructors and our peers on the senior course. And we kept our eyes and ears open, sensitive and receptive to anything, however small, which would assist us in any way to obtain those wings which we longed to be able to wear on our uniforms.
Here at Sywell, the Tiger Moths were, during the day, dispersed around the perimeter of the grass aerodrome, standing in their training yellow and earth-camouflage paint, their R.A.F. roundels standing out bravely, awaiting their next pupils to take them up on whichever exercise they would carry out. We were divided into three Flights, six or seven of the boys on my course in each, with six or seven of the senior course. Each Flight had its ‘office’ in a camouflage-painted bell tent near the hedge. But what drew my eye almost hypnotically when I was standing there, not flying, perhaps watching other pupils performing their ‘circuits and bumps’ until it was my own turn, was the occasional sight of a Wellington, a twin-engined bomber, at that time the biggest we had, standing outside a hangar on the far side of the aerodrome – the Vickers shed, as it was called. It fascinated me constantly and unfailingly, massive in its matt-black dope with its very tall single rudder, standing squat, silent and menacing outside its hangar, contrasting against the snow-covered ground,
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never approached by anyone except the Vickers personnel. What was taking place there I have never known, but all of us well knew who flew it.
He would arrive in his Spitfire, considerately keeping a respectable distance outside the circuit while we pupils took off or landed in our tiger Moths. Then he would slip into a vacant place in the circuit and make his approach and landing, his aircraft, pencil-slim, perfect and graceful in its flight, the focus of all eyes from the ground, its appearance possessed of something of the beauty and poetry of a Bach fugue or a Mozart andante, a Shakespearian sonnet of flowing aerial beauty. The pilot, we learned from some of the senior course who were comparatively old hands on the aerodrome, was Alex Henshaw, Vickers’ Chief Test Pilot, a fact which reduced us tyros, with probably less than thirty flying hours in any of our logbooks, to awestricken silence.
He it would be who would take the Wellington from its place at the Vickers shed, taxi it, ponderously, it seemed to us, into take-off position when all Tiger Moths were well clear, and without fuss send it charging with engines howling at full boost over the bumpy grass field and into the air, leaving traces of oily smoke in its wake from the two Pegasus engines as he eased it over the trees fringing the aerodrome and climbed away. Later, he would return to land, once again showing meticulous consideration of us pupils, and would taxy the bomber to its position by the Vickers shed. I would have not believed them had someone told me that less than a year later I would land and take off here in a more powerful Mark of Wellington on the strength of having seen Alex Henshaw’s performances; I am sure that my audience, if indeed I had one, would have been quite unimpressed by the sight. I know that my own crew, in the tense silence as I scraped over the trees on take-off, were wishing themselves anywhere but with me in my inexperienced disregard for their safety. But it was watching Alex Henshaw that first sowed the seed of an idea in my head that, whereas almost all of the chaps on my course wanted to fly fighters, I thought that I would try my utmost to get on to a bomber Squadron, if only to hit back at those who had so terrified Betty, the niece of the couple on whom
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I was billeted in Northampton, and whom I was beginning to regard as someone more than a friend. A year later I would be wearing my pilot’s wings, having been half way across the world and back to earn them, having joined a Wellington Squadron in Lincolnshire and having survived a fire in the air followed by a barely controllable night descent in the darkness and the final crash-landing on my first operation against the enemy. I would also have gained, then lost, a love.
One afternoon, at Sywell, I was not flying, standing outside the dispersal tent with two or three others of my course, no doubt talking flying, and watching critically the take-offs and landings of a few pupils on circuits and bumps. (How readily I could point out their faults – a slight swing on take-off, a ropey turn, a bumpy landing, or a too-high hold-off; how slow I was to recognise my own failings and correct them, except on the sometimes caustic promptings of Flying Officer J - -, my instructor).
At this stage in our training we could detect instantly any appearance or movement of an aircraft in the sky, no matter how far distant it was – an attribute I have never lost – and we could also quickly and correctly identify it, an ability which, for obvious reasons, was essential by day or by night. But on that bright, very cold afternoon, first there was the distinctive note of the Merlin engine. Our heads turned. Here was the Spitfire with Alex Henshaw, assessing the position of the Tigers on the circuit. He would have been at about 800 feet; I had a splendid view as he cruised gently along, well outside the aerodrome boundary. Then there was a flash of sunlight off the wing as, quite unexpectedly, he rolled the aircraft on to its back and flew, straight and level, but inverted, into wind. We turned our heads and grinned at one another. This was good. This was very good. Exciting stuff. Soon he would roll back and finish his circuit normally. We were wrong. He turned crosswind, still inverted, his rudder pointing grotesquely earthwards. This was becoming quite amazing, an incredible sight. Then, still inverted, he turned again, on to the downwind leg and put his wheels down – or rather, put them up, as we saw them, rising like a snail’s antennae from the duck-egg blue under surface of the Spitfire. Then he turned
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on to the final crosswind leg, still inverted, undercarriage held high, flaps now out, and finally into wind, on to his landing approach.
Spellbound and speechless we watched as he lost height smoothly in the inverted position. What was he going to do? Open her up and roll her out, then go round again on a normal circuit? But no, he continued on his inverted final approach. I hardly dared breathe; the tension in our small group could be felt. Down and down he slipped until we were prepared to see simply anything – but surely not a crash? I could not truly estimate at what height he was, but finally, effortlessly and smoothly, he rolled her out, the engine popping characteristically as he held off at a few feet and set the Spitfire down for a perfect landing on the grass. We exhaled in unison, the tension gone, wonderment taking over.
I have never seen any piece of flying anywhere to approach the silken, wonderful skill of this, and I would be astonished if anyone else has; it was sheer unadulterated Henshaw genius, a sight that I have always remembered with awe, one I shall never forget.
There is a very fine novel, long since out of print, written by an R.A.F. Flight Lieutenant pilot who was killed in 1940. The action takes place at a civilian flying school; in one particular chapter some pupils are watching an instructor putting an aircraft through its paces on a rigorous test flight and one of them speaks some words which precisely matched my thoughts as I watched that incredible inverted circuit – “We’ll none of us ever fly like that.”
I am sure that none of us standing there on that wartime winter day ever did and I would be astounded if anyone else did, or could. It was flying by a genius; even the gods must have smiled to see it.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Lennie [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] LENNIE [/underlined]
In those days, full-backs wore number 1, right wing threequarters threw into lineouts and wore number 2, and so on, down to number 15 at wing forward. Lennie wore number 2 in my local rugby club’s first team, and also in the County side. As an aspiring wing threequarter [sic] myself, although just into my teens, Lennie, when I watched the team’s every home game, wide-eyed on the open side of the exposed pitch, in whatever weather, Lennie became one of my boyhood heroes.
He was not by any means one of your greyhound-type hard-running winger, for he carried, in retrospect, perhaps a pound or two too much weight to be numbered with them. But he was as elusive as a well-greased eel. Although in defence, and in particular, his rather feeble kicking, he was slightly suspect, with ball in hand every spectator, whether at club or County match, unconsciously sat up or stood straighter, in anticipation of his jinking, sidestepping runs up the touchline, soldier-erect, dark head thrown back, mouth slightly open. I wonder how often in his career he heard the encouraging shouts of the crowd, “Come on, Lennie!”
The recollection of a particular incident in one particular match, against the strongest club side in the county still remains vividly with me. In all but the highest grade of rugby, receiving the ball as a wing threequarter [sic] within ten or fifteen yards of one’s own corner flag meant that there was no choice. One kicked for touch, hoping to gain at least twenty or so yards. Especially so when one was pitted against the most efficient and successful team for miles around, and even more so when one was faced by the opposing winger, who in this case was an English international. But on this occasion Lennie eschewed the safe option. Perhaps it was that he himself knew that his kicking was rather weak.
About a hundred yards from his opponent’s line and faced by a rapidly advancing and grimly competent opponent, he set off to run, up the appreciable slope of his home ground. With a jink and a sidestep he evaded the oncoming International, who skidded and was left floundering. Urged on by the home crowd, myself included, he ran, sidestepped, swerved and tricked his way through the opponents’ entire team, his lately evaded marker in breathless and fruitless pursuit. He finally rounded the fullback and scored wide out to the left, after a solo effort of more than 120 yards. It brought the house down, especially as the England ‘cap’
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was finally left prone and exhausted in his wake. I have watched and played rugby for very many years and I honestly believe that I have rarely seen a finer individual try scored.
Came the war. Players and spectators alike of the necessary ages were scattered all over the world, many never again to see or handle a rugby ball. Very early in 1941, my elementary flying training – and Betty – left behind, the latter with some heartache, I and several other LACs from Sywell found ourselves en route for we knew not where to continue our training, gathered like so many shepherdless sheep in midwinter in a large and bleak Nissen hut at RAF Wilmslow, an overseas embarkation depot. There must have been fifty or so of us in the hut, sitting upon our respective beds, while a Corporal at one end lectured us on some topic relevant to our impending departure, then called us forward, alphabetically, of course – I was used to being the last in any roll-call – to hand us some sheet of instructions. Awaiting my turn I watched idly while others hurried forward to the Corporal’s desk, then about-turned and went back to their places. Watched idly, that is, until a name I only half-heard was called, and a well-built dark man trotted, on his toes, up the aisle to the Corporal. I started up with a stifled exclamation, recognising the way he ran. It was Lennie, Lennie C - - of W - - R.F.C. I could scarcely believe my eyes. For a second or two the forage cap with the white flash of u/t aircrew almost deceived me.
As soon as we were left to our own devices I walked along the hut and across to his bed-space.
“Excuse me, but you are Lennie C - -, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
He looked curiously at me.
“I thought so, I’ve often watched you play, at W - -.”
He looked surprised and pleased. I mentioned my cousin, who played in the same team. To meet someone from one’s own home town in the Service was a reasonably infrequent happening, and because of that, all the more welcome. He told me he was under training as a Navigator. We stuck together, despite the disparity in our ages – he was about ten years my senior – through our dismal stay at Wilmslow, then via Gourock and a ridiculously small ship to Iceland where we trans-shipped
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to an armed Merchant Cruiser. This was more of a morale-boosting title than anything else; the ship was a medium-sized passenger cruise vessel with two quite small guns which, at a guess, might have just about managed to sink an empty wooden barrel, but not much else. The news finally filtered down to us that we were heading for Canada. On setting out from Reykjavik we looked around for our convoy. There was none. We were to cross the Atlantic alone, with two paltry guns to defend ourselves against whatever there might be in the way of U-boats, pocket battleships or a combination of both. This was a very real threat. The ‘Bismarck’ was later to sink ‘Hood’ and itself to be sunk in the North Atlantic. We slept and lived, about 150 of us, I suppose, on the floor of what had been the Recreation Room with about twelve inches of so-called bed-space between mattresses. Half way across the Atlantic, in a February storm, the engines packed up and we tossed, helpless, for twenty four hours, a sitting target for the Kriegsmarine. Then at last we heard the welcome rumbling from the bowels of the ship.
An LAC whose bed-space was near to Lennie’s and mine then reported that he felt unwell. Chickenpox was diagnosed, and the M.O., looking for all the world like an S.S. man selecting victims for the concentration camp, ordered that several of us, including Lennie, Brian S - , who had been on my course at Sywell, and myself, were to be sent into quarantine when we arrived in Canada. Brian, as it happened, was also a rugby man, having played for Broughton Park.
We duly and thankfully docked in Halifax, Nova Scotia and after, I’m afraid, gorging ourselves on steaks and chocolate, which we had never seen since before September 1939, about twenty of us, including two or three Fleet Air Arm airmen, to our eyes bizarre in their bell-bottomed trousers and flapping collars, were put on the train for Cape Breton Island, in particular for the small R.C.A.F. Station of North Sydney.
Our quarantine turned out to be farcical. After twenty four hours on the camp we were informed, amazingly, that we could please ourselves where we went and whom we met, until further notice. We looked at one another in astonishment – then proceeded to enjoy ourselves while we could. Our duties, such as they were, consisted of one night duty in six when three of us were left in charge of the kitchen and served meals to the RCAF airmen
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who were on guard duty and fire picquet. The civilian cooks, who had never met anyone from the U.K., ensure that we were fed like fighting cocks, providing us with quantities of steaks, eggs and milk. Out of camp, the streets, cafes and cinemas of North Sydney and of Sydney itself were open to us. Lifts in cars belonging to the local people were there for the asking, and the friendly Nova Scotians, learning of our arrival, took us to their hearts and into their homes. They were astonished that despite the deep snow on the ground, we seldom, if ever, wore our great coats. The cold was so dry compared with that in England, and we were physically in such prime condition that we felt no discomfort, whereas our Canadian hosts went about muffled up in greatcoats and fur hats with ear-flaps. Our stay there was as good as an extended leave.
Off the pitch, most rugby players are determined to do their utmost to ensure that breweries never go out of business. Lennie was no exception. When a group of us were out together he drank his beer slowly but steadily, became more and more relaxed and laughed a good deal, sometimes uncontrollably. He never became objectionable or aggressive, never used bad language and was always amenable to our advice that perhaps he had had sufficient and it was time to return to camp. Being a mere tyro, at the age on [sic] nineteen I drank sparingly and with considerable discretion, my mental sights being fixed over the horizon, on the next stage of my flying training and the eventual gaining of my wings. So I took it upon myself, on several occasions, to steer Lennie, muscular but curiously boneless, laughing at only he knew what, safely into our barrack hut and on to his bed, where I covered him, still in uniform, with his blankets, where he would fall peacefully asleep. Lennie, even with several beers inside him, never did the slightest harm to anyone.
Of course, the idyll had to come to an end. After several very pleasant weeks, our posting came through. Brian and I and some others were destined for Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, No. 32 S.F.T.S., while Lennie was posted to Goodrich, Ontario, a Navigational Training School. I remember how we shook hands when we said ‘cheerio’. His smile was as broad as ever, and his hand, I recall vividly, was large and surprisingly soft.
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It must have been on one of my leaves from Moreton-in-the-Marsh towards the end of 1942 when my father, who was on the committee of the local rugby club, gave me the news. Lennie had been shot down and was missing. He believed that it had happened off the Norwegian coast. It was yet another blow to me following the loss of my own crew. I had recently had a reply from the Commanding Officer of my Squadron in response to a letter I had written him, that my crew must now all be presumed dead. I felt that the bottom had dropped out of my life and I was nearing the end of my tether. I was suffering deeply, as was my flying, and I sensed that my forthcoming Medical Board would be the end of a chapter. I went about cocooned in silent grief so intense that it amounted to permanent depression, which was only temporarily assuaged by drinking far more than I ever saw Lennie drink. From what little my father had gleaned from his informant at the clubhouse I surmised that Lennie must have been on some squadron in Coastal Command. For some reason I visualised him on Whitleys.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Years passed. I will not say that I had forgotten Lennie; occasionally some memory of those days would float unbidden into my mind and I would visualise him as I had last known him on Cape Breton Island, always smiling, playfully light-hearted, completely harmless. Then a friend gave me a cutting from a local newspaper with a photograph of the successful rugby team of the immediate pre-war years. Lennie smiled up at me from the middle of the front row of players, next to another young man who had been shot down into the sea off the Dutch coast as a wireless operator in a Blenheim on a daylight shipping strike. I was impelled to ask the friend whether any information could be obtained from the Internet as to what had happened to Lennie, and when it was he had died. Within days I knew enough to be able to consult a series of volumes of casualties of Bomber Command. For Lennie had not been on a Coastal Command Squadron as I had surmised, and he had not been shot down off Norway.
He was the Navigator of one of six Wellingtons from a Bomber Squadron at Mildenhall, (where much later, J – ended her career in the W.A.A.F. as a Base Watchkeeper), detailed to attack shipping, in daylight, on the Dortmund-Ems Canal in North-west Germany on a September afternoon in 1942.
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On reading this, I could hardly believe that Wellingtons were being used on daylight operations at that time; I had thought that the crippling loses [sic] that they suffered on such attacks in the early days of the war had meant their transfer solely to night bombing. (On my telling M – about these circumstances, she said ‘Suicide raid’. That was about the size of it.) Mr. Chorley’s painstakingly collated and amazingly detailed book gives the bare bones of the tragic story. Four and a half hours after taking off, presumably on their way back to Mildenhall, and within sight of the Dutch coast and the comparative safety of the North Sea, his aircraft was attacked by a Luftwaffe Focke-Wulfe 190, a formidable fighter aircraft. The wireless operator was killed in the attack and the aircraft was set on fire. The two gunners managed to bale out and became prisoners of war. The account says that Lennie was last seen using a fire extinguisher, bravely trying to put out the fire which was raging inside the fuselage of the Wellington.
The blazing aircraft crashed into what was then the Zuider Zee; the bodies of the wireless operator and the pilot were recovered and subsequently interred in a cemetery in Amsterdam, but Lennie’s body was never found and, having no known grave, his name is recorded on the Runnymede Memorial along with twenty thousand others whose remains were never recovered.
So died a hero who for a brief time was my friend.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] It makes you think [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] IT MAKES YOU THINK [/underlined]
“Mail up!”
We jumped off our beds and hurried towards the door at the end of the barrack hut. At least, some of us did. The majority stayed where they were, on their beds, pretending to read, cleaning buttons, pottering about. There could be almost no chance of mail for them, for they were Norwegian, and their homeland was under German occupation. They accepted this lack of mail, as they did much else, with considerable stoicism.
We who were the fortunate ones gathered around the R.C.A.F. airman who called out the names on the envelopes, and who, while looking down at the handful of letters he held, handed us our mail without a glance. There was one for me. I looked at the postmark. Coventry. My heart bounded when I saw that. There was two-thirds of the width of Canada and all the Atlantic Ocean between us; she was back in devastated Coventry, I in smaller and completely peaceful Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, under training as a fighter pilot.
I walked slowly back to my bed, savouring the sight of her handwriting, feeling the texture of the envelope smooth under my fingers. I sat down quietly, as far as one could be quiet in a hut with twenty-nine other blokes. In deference to us, the Norwegian lads did keep quiet as we read our mail. I held the unopened letter a long time in my hand, gazing at her rounded, shapely writing. I wanted this moment of pleasure to last as long as possible.
At the time I was with her, under the same roof, being so caught up in the novelty and the thrill of flying, I didn’t realise what was happening to me, or to her, and it was all too foolishly late that I had become slowly aware of it. After we had parted, when I was at the Embarkation Depot en route for Canada, and when I had time to take stock of myself, it was only then that it dawned slowly upon me that I had fallen in love with her, and that I wouldn’t see her again for the best, or the worst part of six months at least. Oh, Betty, I thought, the time I so stupidly wasted. Would I ever have the chance again?
I sighed, and looked at her photograph on my locker. She was
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smiling at me enigmatically, her mouth curving slightly up at the corners, her dark eyes holding more than a hint of mischief, the gleaming mass of her ebony hair framing the soft pallor of her calm face. Slowly and carefully I opened the envelope. I turned to the last sheet, looked at the end of the letter first, fearful that it might say only “yours sincerely” or some such. It did not. The words were there that I wanted to read. I lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and luxuriously, and started from the beginning.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Tim spoke up from across the gangway between the beds, his English idiomatic and only very faintly accented.
“I hope she still loves you, but come on, we have flying to do.”
“O.K., Tim, I’ll be right with you.”
I tucked the letter into my top left-hand tunic pocket, carefully buttoning the flap. Soren and Aage, next to Tim, both stood up. What opposites they were, I thought, Soren cheerful, muscular, blond, extrovert, while Aage was gaunt and rather silent, and toothy, with melancholy eyes which flickered nervously around him. We made our way up to the flights; it was going to be another hot day. Already the air was filled with the tearing rasp of the Harvards’ Wasp engines as the fitters ran them up in preparation for a long day’s flying.
We turned into ‘F’ Flight crewroom at the front of one of the hangars and looked at the flying detail pinned up on the board, next to the Coke machine. Aage was due off on a cross-country to Swift Current and back at 0900, while Tim, Soren and I had an hour’s formation flying at 1000. Lower down the list I saw that I was due on the Link Trainer at 1500 for blind-flying simulation, and to round off the day, or rather, the night, one and a half solo night-flying hours at 2100. It was going to be a long day, as well as a hot one. Aage, now bent over a map, pencilling careful lines, was to take over my aircraft, I saw, when I landed after night-flying.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
After the snowy, tree-fringed grass field at Sywell it was a novelty to have these sun-baked runways, even more so when there were two parallel ones with a narrow grass strip in between, the whole field being patterned by this double triangle of concrete strips.
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We took it in turns to lead our formation of three. Station-changing, as we had no R/T, was indicated by hand-signals from the leader. Soren was to lead first with me as his number two and Tim, three. Then I would take over the lead, and finally, Tim. I followed Soren’s bright yellow Harvard out as he taxied on to the perimeter and turned towards the end of the runways in use. He took the right-hand runway of the pair and edged across to the left of it, braked and stopped. I gave him ten yards clearance and took the right-hand edge of the same runway. Tim stopped level with me, alone on the left-hand runway. I saw Soren slide the canopy shut and start rolling, and I followed, pushing the throttle firmly up to the stop. I never got used to the tremendous feeling of exhilaration as the power surged on. I lifted the tail and kept straight with small pushes of my feet on the rudder-bar. As I chased after Soren I could see Tim out of the corner of my eye, keeping abreast of me.
Suddenly Soren was airborne, then I followed, climbing into the summer sky. To maintain station, the rules of tidy and correct flying were suspended. You used no bank on your small turns to get into position, but skidded gently across on rudder only. It felt all wrong, it was like being told deliberately to mis-spell a word one had known and used for years. When I had first practised formation with F/O Sparks in the front cockpit I had been frightened out of my wits to see two other aircraft each within ten yards of me. But one was soon conditioned to accept this, and very quickly one learned the gentle art of close formation flying, when your own wing was actually tucked in to the space between the leader’s wing and his tailplane, so that any forward or backward relative movement meant a collision. But provided you watched him like a hawk, and kept station by means of constant throttle and rudder juggling, you got by. It became great fun, and the early thoughts of comprehensive and devastating collisions were soon forgotten.
So I tucked myself right in on Soren’s starboard side and stayed there while he climbed, turned or glided. We flew four basic formations, vic, echelon starboard, echelon port and line astern. The echelons looked great and the line astern gave you a bit of relaxation, for numbers two and three were slightly lower than the aircraft in front,
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to keep out of the turbulence of his slipstream. Where we were heading was not my worry, nor Tim’s. Soren was in charge of that side of things while he was leading. He gave the signal to change leaders. I skidded away from him and opened the throttle to draw ahead. He skated in to my left and Tim crossed to my right, as number two. Back to cruising revs as they snuggled themselves in tightly against me. I looked down at the baked prairie landscape and saw that Soren had headed us back towards Moose Jaw to make it easy for me. I grinned and mentally thanked him. I started to sing loudly to myself as we flew, running through the repertoire of the popular songs we were always playing on the juke box at Smoky Joe’s cafe, just outside the camp gates, I felt on top of the world – a letter from Betty, a great day for flying and the formation going like a dream. I led them around until my time was up and signalled Tim to take it from there, over Regina Beach on Last Mountain Lake, at four thousand feet.
I slid into number three position in the vic and tucked myself in tightly into Tim’s port side. He led us around in a turn to port, back towards base. We never did steepish turns in vic formation, it was too difficult for the man low down on the inside to keep station as he had to cut his airspeed back so much. Tim tightened the turn and climbed a bit as he did so. Watch it, Tim, I thought. Still tighter; I dared not look at my airspeed. Still tighter, and my controls were starting to feel sloppy, approaching the stall; I dared not throttle back any further or I would stall off the turn and go into a spin, and a Harvard lost nine hundred feet per turn once they did spin. Out of it! I shoved throttle on as I winged over and dived out of the formation, swearing to myself as I did so. The wretch! Playing silly buggers like that!
All on my own in the bright morning sky I screamed round in a steep turn to port, with plenty of power on, nearly blacking myself out in the process. I yanked the seat tighter against the straps to bind my stomach firmly in and keep the blood in my head, stopping the grey-out. I eased out of the turn. Five thousand feet. Now, where the hell were they? Then I saw them, now about six miles away, orbiting innocently. I flew over to them and sat just off
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Tim’s port wingtip, shaking my fist at him, which only made him throw back his head and laugh as he made come-in motions with his hand. I went in, tight. We formed up again into a sedate vic and finished the detail, as usual, in echelon port, about two miles from the field, when we did our line-shoot party piece – a swift wing-over to port in rapid succession and a dive on each other’s tails into the circuit, making sure we were well clear of the more sedate pupils going about their quiet business.
When we had landed, taxied in and switched off, I collared Tim.
“Damn you!” I said, pretending to be about to sling a punch at him, “What the hell do you think you were playing at? Trying to make me spin in, were you?”
“No danger,” he replied, laughing, “you had bags of height – can’t take it, eh?”
Soren chimed in, smiling broadly.
“We thought you’d just decided to go home.”
“Wait till I’m leader, next time, you two mad so-and-so’s,” I said threateningly, “I’ll turn you both inside out!”
All the same, I threw Tim a Sweet Cap; Soren didn’t smoke. We strolled back to ‘F’ Flight crew-room where I’m glad to say that Tim bought the cold Cokes. It was a hot morning.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
The Link Trainer Sergeant was a stocky little R.C.A.F. man who looked like a middleweight boxer.
“Don’t forget to reset your gyro-compass every ten minutes or so or you’ll be way to hell out at the end. Got your flight card? Do all your turns at Rate two and let’s have a nice neat pattern on my chart at the finish. Give me the O.K. when you’re ready and I’ll tell you when I’m switching on so you can punch the clock.”
“Right oh, Sergeant,” I said.
I climbed into the little dummy aeroplane on its concertina-like base. I pulled over the hood, plugged in the intercom in the darkness and propped up the flight card near the small lamp on the instrument panel. I felt the lurch as he energised the system; the instruments
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came to life with a sigh.
“I’ve put you at a thousand feet,” he said, “do you read that?”
“Check,” I replied, “turning on to 045 Magnetic, now.”
“Got you. Just watch your height as well as your timings, won’t you, bud?”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
I was flying the awkward Maltese Cross pattern, the idea being to finish exactly where you started, after the completion of the twelve legs. The instructor had a wheeled “crab” which inked in the line of your track on his chart. At the end, you should have drawn a perfect Maltese Cross, but it took forty minutes, approximately, of solid, grinding concentration on your instruments alone.
“Switching on – now!” came his voice, and I hit the stop-watch.
After what seemed like hours I did my final Rate 2 turn on to my original course. I straightened it up, timed a careful one minute, then called out, “Finish – now!”
He acknowledged and switched me off. The needles sagged to their stops. I took off my headphones and opened the hood and side door.
“O.K.,” the Sergeant said, “come right over here and have a look-see. Not bad at all.”
I went over to his glass-topped table. My pattern was about ten inches across and I had finished about an eighth of an inch from where I had started. It looked pretty damn good to me, and for an instant I thought about Tink’s brother in his Hampden.
“Yes,” I said, feeling rather pleased, “just a bit out, Sergeant.”
He grinned.
“You’re doing O.K., buddy,” he said agreeably, “now how’s about seeing if L.A.C. Briggs is outside, eh?”
“O.K., Sergeant,” I said.
He had just made my day.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I lay back on my bed after the evening meal and read the letter once again. The hut was quiet. Those who weren’t night flying had gone to Smoky Joe’s or into town for an evening meal. The few of
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us on the night flying detail were reading, writing letters or dozing on our beds, waiting for the darkness. There was no sign of either Tim or Soren, while Aage was actually sound asleep.
She wrote, “I miss you here, I miss our walks in the park. I wonder if you will be posted somewhere near when you come back, where we can meet? Do you still want to go on to bombers, like you told me? Will it be very dangerous? Whatever happens, I shall pray for you, as I do now, that God will keep you. I have always said what has to be, will be, but I feel he will keep you safe…..” She went on to say she would be spending some time with her Aunt and Uncle in Northampton, as her parents still felt happier with her over there.
I folded the letter slowly and thought about Betty and the simple, almost idyllic happiness of life in those days six months ago. Tink, on the bed next to me, motioned to me and across at Aage, grinning, imitating his open mouth and his posture, his ungainly sprawl. Tink, the single-minded, I thought, hero-worshipping his brother flying his Hampden over Germany, and who could hardly wait to get on to the same Squadron. A faraway look would come into his eyes when he spoke about it; “When I get on Hampdens,” he would always be saying, and his broad, boyish face would be raised to the sky, “When I get on Hampdens with my brother –“
But looking at Aage had made me feel tired, too. I yawned, then lit a cigarette and grinned at him. Tink was from Coalville in Leicestershire; I wonder often what became of him.
An hour later I was taxying my Harvard out in the darkness, the flarepath away to my right looking very long and very far away. Night flying without a navigator and entirely without radio consisted, at Moose Jaw, of circuits and bumps – and of not getting lost. There was no blackout and you could see the town for miles, no bother at all. But if the visibility went, you got down out of it, quick. So far, it never had; the prairie nights were wonderfully clear.
I got my green from the A.C.P. and, nicely central between the flares, opened her up. We charged down the runway and floated off
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easily. I had done quite a few of these night flying stints before, and found I had taken to it naturally, much more so than I did to aerobatics, for example. Undercart up, throttle back to climbing power, keep the gyro on 0, shut the canopy, and up to 1000 feet. Level off, throttle back to cruising, turn port to 270. There’s the flarepath down over my left shoulder. Keep the wings level, watch the artificial horizon. Rate one turn downwind, heading 180, throttle back a bit, then wheels down when we’re opposite the middle of the flarepath. Greens on the panel as the wheels lock. There’s the A.C.P. giving me a green on the Alldis lamp. Crosswind on to 090. Bit of flap. Drop the nose and turn in. Watch the airspeed, open the canopy. Engine noise surges in. Switch on the landing light and hold her there. Nice approach, I think. Now, hold off and let her sink the last four feet. The flares merge into a line. Hold it there. A bump and a rumble. We’re down.
Keep her straight, flaps up, headlamp off. Touch of brake, not too much. Fine, now turn off the runway along the glim-lit perimeter track and back to the take-off position again. There’s someone else up, I can see his nav. lights. Wonder who it is? I rumble along the peri. track to head back for the end of the runway. Must say, I can see Tink’s point, I’d rather like a bash on Hampdens myself. After all, they’re what I wanted when I first thought about joining up, except that my ambitions were no higher than to be a gunner.
“Will it be very dangerous?”
God knows, Betty, but as you say, what has to be will be, and there is no turning back, one must simply live for and through the minute, even the second, and do what has to be done, enduring what has to be endured with fortitude.
Something’s irritating me, and I can’t think what, except there’s something here which shouldn’t be. My God! Yes! The cockpit is full of red light, now it’s flashing off and on, urgently. Stop. Tread on the brakes. She creaks and jerks to an abrupt halt. The red light stops flashing at me and someone taxies past me in the opposite direction. Wow! So that’s what the red was all about?
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Must stop this day-dreaming. Only two more circuits and I can pack it in, hand over to Aage and hit the sack. I’ll be about ready for it, too.
There’s my green. Hope he doesn’t report me for taxying through a red. It was only a dozen yards – I think. Oh, well, can’t do a thing about it now. No harm done, so here goes, back to my take-off point. Turn on to the runway, uncage the gyro on 0, open her up. We’re off again.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Turn on to 180, see the stars sliding around. Between the field and the town, now. Nice and easy, purring along, last landing coming up, then into the pit.
“I miss you here, I miss our walks in the park.”
I wish I were meeting you after this, Betty, ‘you’d be so nice to come home to’ – I wonder if you still play that record? ‘To come home to and love.’
Coming home – the lights of home – lights – lights – lights! What the hell’s going on? All those lights, ahead, and coming straight for me? Hell! Get the stick back, you’re in a dive, heading straight for the town! You’ve been asleep, you bloody fool. Come on, come on, ease out. The lights slide below me. Thank God for that. I risk a look at the altimeter – 500 feet. God. Another few seconds, and that would have been it, smack into the town centre, curtains. I reach up and slam the canopy open, letting the cold night air flood in, taking deep breaths to wake myself up. I climb cautiously back to circuit height, select wheels down and duly get my green from the A.C.P., as though nothing at all had happened. I turn across wind, edging towards the flarepath. Shove the nose down, turn port, full flap, headlamp on, heading straight in. I land, thankfully, and exhale with relief. Aage is ready and waiting to take over the kite as I dump my ‘chute, blinking in the bright light of the crewroom, and fill in the Authorisation Book.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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The murmur of voices nearby awoke me. I pulled the bedclothes around my ears, but it was no good. I was awake, back to life again. I sat up, yawned, looked at my watch – 0820. Still in time for breakfast, if I hurried. Brian, Tim, Tink and Soren were in a huddle across the other side of the hut, talking in hushed voices, looking solemn. Two strange erks were standing near Aage’s bed. I was puzzled.
“Hey, Tink!” I called, sitting on the edge of my bed and yawning again, “Tink!”
He looked over his shoulder and came across to me. I nodded towards the strangers.
“What’s cooking?” I asked.
“It’s Aage.”
“Aage? What about him?”
“He’s dead. He crashed, night flying, last night.”
“He what?” I gasped, fully awake in an instant, “He crashed? How the hell did it happen?”
Tink shrugged.
“No-one knows, he just went in, about four miles away, that’s all we know.”
“Christ,” I whispered, “poor old Aage. He’s definitely - ?”
“Oh, yes,” Tink said, “no doubt about it, I’m afraid.”
I said, quietly, “He took over my kite, last night, you know.”
Tink said, “Was it O.K. when you had it?”
“Of course, no trouble at all.”
I didn’t want to mention my falling asleep, not even to Tink. He sighed.
“Makes you think, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” I answered, remembering the lights rushing towards me, “it certainly makes you think.”
(‘What has to be, will be.’)
“Mail up!” someone shouted, and there was a clatter of feet hurrying down the hut. There would be no mail for Aage. Another day had begun.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] “Yes, my darling daughter” [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] “YES, MY DARLING DAUGHTER” [/underlined]
“What was it you did yesterday?” Flying Officer Sparks asked, “advanced formation, am I right?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, wondering what was in store for me that morning. He pinched his lower lip between thumb and finger and frowned with silent concentration, his black moustache looking more luxuriant than ever.
“Well now, I think you’d better do some steep turns, climbing turns and a forced landing. An hour, solo. Take 2614. Don’t do all your turns to port, you don’t want to give yourself a left-handed bias, and watch you don’t black yourself out in your steep turns. Now. Forced landings. Don’t touch down anywhere, you only do that with an instructor. Don’t go below a hundred feet, and thirdly, don’t cheat and have a field picked ready, close your throttle at random when you’re doing something else. If you do ever have an engine failure you won’t be able to pick and choose the time or the place. All right? Any questions?”
“I take it I keep my undercarriage up, sir?”
“Yes, better a belly landing and a bent prop than a somersault if you try a wheels down landing on an unknown surface. Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“Right, off you go, then.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I came to attention, about-turned smartly and went out of the Instructors’ Office into the pupils’ crewroom of ‘F’ Flight, No. 32 Service Flying Training School, Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, on the Canadian prairies.
I felt buoyant that morning; I was feeling very fit and happy and I knew I was flying well. It was a beautiful early summer day with a few puffs of fair-weather cumulus at about five thousand feet, with a light breeze to temper the already growing heat. The constant drone of Harvards filled the air, punctuated by the fierce, ear-splitting howl and crackle of the high-speed propeller tips as one fled down the runway like a scalded cat, tail up, and took off, flashing yellow in the sunlight and tucking its wheels neatly up as it left
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the runway.
Tim and Soren, two of the twenty or so Norwegians on our course – in fact, the R.A.F. were in the minority on Course 32 – were sitting in the crewroom. They completed my formation of three when we flew, and we were great buddies. Tim looked up and grinned.
“No formation for us this morning, eh?”
“No, not this morning, Tim. I hear that you’re grounded, anyhow, for trying to make me spin in off a turn!”
I was joking, of course, and Tim knew it; on’s [sic] loyalty to one’s formation was absolute. Tim laughed hugely, his lean, brown face, normally rather grave, was transformed.
“Anyhow,” I said, “he’s not fit to fly with a face like that,” and I pointed to Soren, who was feeding a nickel into the juke box. There was a thud, and out came the seductive voice of Dinah Shore.
“Mother, may I go out dancing?
Yes, my darling daughter.
Mother, may I try romancing?
Yes, my darling daughter – “
It was practically our course signature tune at Moose Jaw, everybody sang, whistled or hummed it and selected it on whatever juke box was handiest, whether here in the crewroom or out at Smoky Joe’s, the cafe at the camp gates, on the dust road which led to town. Soren looked up. He had a bottle of coke in one hand, a split lip and a discoloured right eye. He grinned at me.
“Ah, but it was just a friendly little fight with a couple of Canadians, nothing serious at all.”
Soren’s favourite occupation on his evenings out was to have several drinks then find someone to fight. Strangely enough, he never fought with any R.A.F. bloke.
“See you later, then,” I said to them. Tim gave a vague wave, Sorne’s eyes were already shut as he lay full length on a convenient bench, arms crossed on his chest, his mop of incredibly blond hair gleaming in the sun which poured in through the window.
“What if there’s a moon, mother darling, and it’s shining on the water?” I sang to myself as I crossed the expanse of concrete
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in front of the hangars, under the blazing sun, my parachute bumping against the backs of my knees, the morning breeze finding its way pleasantly inside my unbuckled helmet. It was so hot that we were able to fly in shirtsleeves. Up at eight or ten thousand feet it was delightfully cool, but at ground level the temperature could climb to the 120’s in the sun by afternoon.
I found 2614 among the half dozen kites parked in line facing the hangar. Someone had thoughtfully left the canopy open to minimise the heat in the cockpit. I checked that the pitot-head cover was off, I didn’t want to get airborne and find that the airspeed indicator was out of action. Then I climbed in off the port wing-root, clicking the leg-straps of my ‘chute into the quick-release box as I did so. An erk was standing by with the starter trolley. I did up my safety harness while I was busy with the pre-start cockpit check. I operated the priming pump and shouted “Contact!”, switching on the ignition, and with the stick held firmly back into my stomach I pressed the starter switch. The propeller staggered, jumped, staggered again, then caught as the engine roared into life. the prop-tips became a yellow semi-circular blur in front of my eyes. The erk wheeled away the trolley, parking it to one side where I could see it.
I tested the controls for the full movement and ran up the engine, buckled my helmet securely and pulled the seat up hard against the straps, waving away the chocks. The erk gave me the thumbs-up. I toed the brakes off, opened the throttle a little, and we rolled. I taxied with exaggerated care, knowing that F/O Sparks was probably watching me. I had been told off by him once or twice for taxying carelessly. So I ruddered the nose meticulously, each way in turn, at 45 degrees to my direction of travel, which enabled me to see ahead, to the sides of the big 450 horse-power radial engine. A taxying accident was a very serious matter indeed, and a Court Martial was the automatic sequel.
I arrived at the end of the twin runways in use and squinted up into the flare; no-one was on his approach. A final check on the windsock and on the cockpit settings, then I turned on to the runway, pushing on a little rudder to ensure I was absolutely in
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line and central. I set the gyro to ‘0’ and uncaged it, then glanced up to make doubly certain that the canopy was fully back, just in case anything went wrong on take-off and I had to get out in a hurry. Then a final deep breath and we were off. I eased open the throttle to its fullest extent. We rolled, rumbling over the runway, keeping straight with small pushes on the rudder. The engine note rose to a deafening howl and the pressure on the stick increased as we gathered speed and as I eased the stick central. We were in a flying attitude, tail up and charging down the runway which was vanishing with amazing rapidity under the nose of the aircraft. At 65, a slight backward pressure on the stick – not quite ready. At 70, a bump or two, then the incredibly smoothness of being airborne.
I whipped up the wheels, holding the nose just above the horizon to pick up speed, then I throttled back to climbing boost and revs, and reaching up, slid the canopy shut. It was a bit quieter then, and I could relax a little. I adjusted the climbing angle to give me 100 m.p.h., saw with satisfaction that the gyro was still on ‘0’, and did a quick check on all the instrument readings, going swiftly round the cockpit in a clockwise direction. The altimeter slowly wound around its way towards the cotton-wool cumulus.
“Mother, may I go out dancing?
Yes, my darling daughter,” I sang loudly to myself.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
“How right he was,” I thought as I brought her smoothly out of a steep turn, “you can black yourself out in one of these.”
I had tightened the turn gradually, to the left, which I could do without conscious effort, toeing on top rudder to keep the nose pushing around the horizon, the stick fairly tightly into my stomach to tighten the turn in on itself. As the rate-of-turn indicator hovered around the 3 1/2 mark I could feel myself being crushed down into the seat, my cheeks were being pulled downwards, and the instruments had become rather fuzzy as the ‘g’ took hold of the blood in my brain, sucking it down out of my head. Then, as I came out of the turn and the ‘g’ decreased, I stretched myself against the straps as the pressure slackened, and bared my teeth in a mirthless grin
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to restore my features to their correct shape.
“Forced landing next,” I said to myself as I slowly but firmly closed the throttle, stopping it just before the place where the undercarriage warning horn would sound. I was at about six thousand feet, to the west of Moose Jaw. Several miles away, to the north-east, I could see another Harvard stooging along, probably on a cross-country, and away to the north a civil DC3 was flying the beam from Regina to Swift Current. I gently pushed the nose down into the quietness, selected flaps down and hand-pumped on 15 degrees. In a real engine failure you would have to do it this way, the hard way. I slid the canopy open and was all set to pick what would laughingly be called my ‘field’; in this part of the world what passed for a field was rather rare.
The prairie lay below in its muted colours, the occasional yellow dust road straight as a string, the sun flashing briefly on some watercourse. About thirty miles to starboard there seemed to be some line-squalls building up already above the low hills which marked the border of Canada with the neutral U.S.A. I put the kite into a shallow glide. Then I saw my field, a green, squarish paddock with two white buildings in one corner, a dirt road leading up to them. I settled the airspeed on 80 and turned towards the paddock, losing height slowly but steadily in a succession of well-banked turns like the descending hairpins of a mountain road. The green postage stamp of the paddock grew larger. From the smoke of a small fire somewhere on the prairie I saw I would be roughly into wind on my final approach. The white buildings grew into the size of matchboxes.
“What a God-forsaken place,” I thought, “imagine being stuck out here, miles from anywhere, no town, no trees, lots of damn-all connected by roads.”
Then I notice a movement near the house. One figure was standing just outside it, then it was joined by another. Still I glided down, mentally noting airspeed and altimeter readings with quick glances, checking and assessing my position in relation to the paddock. I used to sideslip Tigers with contemptuous ease to get them into the
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field at Sywell, it became my trademark before I left there, but I’d never tried to sideslip a Harvard. Come to think, perhaps this wasn’t the time to start. The horizon had lifted quite a lot. I was going to make it all right, I thought. The prop windmilled ahead of me and I had the urge to open the throttle to make sure that the engine was still functioning; it seemed an age since I had cut the power off. I dropped the nose and did a final turn to port. Airspeed back to 80, pump down full flap, line up, into wind, on to the paddock.
It was a man and a girl standing there watching me, the sun gleaming on their upturned faces. The man was pointing upwards, towards me, he had put his arm protectively around the girl’s shoulders. His daughter, I thought. I imagined them speaking to one another in their slightly harsh Canadian voices, anxious as to what was going to happen next to the aircraft, to me – and to them and their home. I saw the girl give a small wave of the hand, nervously, encouragingly, almost as though she were trying to placate some force, to stave off a possible disaster, and I felt a pang of guilt, knowing that they would be thinking that I was in trouble. Two ordinary people, the tenor of their lonely lives disturbed as never before, by my so casual and uncaring intrusion.
Altitude 150 feet. Airspeed 80. It was, if I said it myself, a honey of an approach, I could have put her down with no trouble at all. They were both waving now and I could distinguish their features. I had them firmly fixed in my mind as father and daughter. Perhaps he was a widower, living out his hard life on the land which his ancestors had farmed since the Indians had left, perhaps his pretty daughter had sacrificed her youth, her prospects and hopes of marriage, to look after her father and help on their farm, burying herself in their lonely world. They were remote there from everything of violence, receiving news of the war over the radio from professionally cheerful and brash newsreaders, couched in terms that they could merely imperfectly comprehend: Europe was far away, dominated by some tyrant of whom they knew little, opposed only by distant and defiant English cousins whom they had never seen, and whose ways were as strange and unknown to them as those of the biblical characters of whom perhaps they read daily at the end of their quiet evenings together.
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I saw him clasp her to himself protectively, and I saw also that I was now below 100 feet. Firmly, I opened the throttle fully. The engine surged with power, its roar doubly deafening after the long glide down. I eased the nose up and gently started to milk off the flap. The house slid beneath my port wing. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, the two figures. He was greying, slightly stooped, in brown bib-and-brace overalls, she a slim girl in a vivid blue frock, her dark hair like a halo round her face. I suddenly thought of Betty. They stood, their arms around each other, as I flew over them.
Then I had the strange and unaccountably peaceful feeling that in those few minutes I had known them all my life. It was as though time itself had become distorted, elongated, to envelop the three of us in some temporal vacuum in a cul-de-sac off the normal path of consciousness, where the clock of the world stood still and where we had, in some mysterious way, experienced a fragment chipped off the endless expanse of eternity, wherein the three of us had been united as one.
The horizon sank away below the Harvard’s nose. I was back again in my element after those eerie few seconds. I looked down at them for the last time. She was standing with both hands pressed to her face. Then her father slowly raised his right hand, as though in benediction. I climbed away into the summer sunshine. And I sang, to no-one but myself, but thinking of the girl down there –
“Mother, must I keep on dancing?
“Yes, my darling daughter!”
I turned the Harvard’s nose for home.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Crewing-up [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] CREWING-UP [/underlined]
Although there are many things which happened at that time when we looked directly into “the bright face of danger”, there are some, and regrettably, some of the most important, the recollection of which steadfastly eludes me. This of course pains me greatly, as the men I was about to meet were destined in those six all too short months to leave an indelible and now poignant impression upon my memory.
My recurring faint recollection is somehow associated with being in a group of other pilots, pupils at 11 O.T.U., Bassingbourne, not far from Cambridge, quite near to the place of execution of Dick Turpin at Caxton Gibbet, and later to become an American Flying Fortress base. We were gathered at the end of one of the hangars in the morning sunshine, practising what little skills we had acquired on the use of the sextant, taking sun-sights and from them plotting the latitude of our position, which was, of course, easily checked by our, at that stage in our training, benign instructors. Perhaps their thoughts were couched in similar terms to those which Connie was to use in conversation with me a year or more later, and in totally different circumstances and surroundings – “They don’t know what’s coming to them, poor sods, do they, Yoicks?”
None of us knew what was coming, for better or for worse, to us, and I was certainly not to know that within the hour I was to meet, and for the next six months – (was it really as little as that?) – become associated with and know intimately five of the finest men, in my opinion, who ever walked the earth. Men who became closer to me, closer to each other, than brothers, than my and their own flesh and blood, men who were mutually supportive in the intangible but unyielding bond which perhaps only aircrew or ex-aircrew can comprehend, men, four of whom had already entered the last six months of their short lives.
We put away our sextants, thankfully, in most cases. There were about twenty of us pilots on the course, both from the United
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Kingdom and the Dominions. My own particular friends were Charlie from Newcastle, Hi-lo, a rugged, rangy Canadian and the man who was to become his Observer, a cheerful Australian named Laurie, and also Roddy, another Canadian, smiling and lively, whom I often addressed, attempting, not unkindly, to imitate his accent, as Raddy. He, Hi-lo and Laurie were soon to be posted with me to 12 Squadron. All three were also soon to die.
We had completed our introduction to the Wellington under the tutelage of ‘screened’ ex-operational pilots, on somewhat battle-weary ex-Squadron aircraft. The inevitable ‘circuits and bumps’ – a few of the bumps quite heavy – had been the order of the day, and of the night, a fortnight of them. I astonished myself by going solo on what were in my eyes monstrously large twin-engined aircraft, having gained my wings on single engined Harvards, in less than three hours. Perhaps it was due not so much to skill and ability as to confidence, or perhaps over-confidence. Looking back on it now it never ceases to astound me and I have to consult my log book to verify the figure of a mere two hours and forty five minutes instruction.
One interesting feature of this fortnight was that before we flew at night we practised what were known as ‘day-night’ landings. Flying in broad daylight with an instructor as safety pilot, we wore specially tinted goggles which gave the impression of surrounding darkness, while the runway was marked by sodium lights which showed up brightly and gave us the line of approach and landing. It was a novel and rather weird experience, but a very useful one, preparing us for the real thing, flying at night in much-reduced visibility, our eyes fixed almost exclusively on the blind-flying panel of A.S.I., altimeter, turn and bank indicator, gyro compass, artificial horizon, and rate of climb and dive indicator.
And so, to one degree or another proficient enough pilots of the Wellington, we were ready to be crewed up.
‘George’, as automatic pilots were universally known, were rare pieces of equipment in late 1941, so every Wellington was crewed by
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two pilots who shared the manual flying (of anything up to 7 1/2 hours on some operations) and one of whom was designated as captain of the aircraft, almost invariably addressed as ‘skipper’ or more usually ‘skip’. Once in the air, however, the pilot was virtually under the orders of his Observer, a misnomer if ever there was one, as he was in no position, huddled in his tiny compartment with his plotting chart and maps, his parallel ruler and sharpened pencils, constantly reading his super-accurate navigation watch, his ‘slave’ altimeter and airspeed indicator, to observe anything outside the aircraft. No pilot, however privately doubtful he might be of the Observer’s statement of the aircraft’s position relative to the earth, or of his instructions to alter course on to a given heading at a certain time, ever had the temerity to question him as to these matters except in the mildest and most oblique of terms. To do otherwise was to risk a most sarcastic reply, usually culminating in the curt riposte, “You just do the flying and let me do the navigating.” Later, on the Squadron I was to learn that Observers as a clan – and a Freemasonlike clan they were, dabbling in the impenetrable mysteries of running fixes, square searches, back-bearings, drifts and suchlike – were sometimes irreverently known as the Two-Seventy Boys, after their alleged persistent habit of, having bombed some German target and being urgently asked by the pilot for a course “to get the Hell out of here”, would airily answer, “Just steer two-seventy,” that being West. The Observer was also the crew member who released the bombs, his bomb selector panel down in the starboard side of the aircraft’s nose being somewhat inappropriately known as the Mickey Mouse, for a reason I never discovered, directing the pilot from his prone position between the front turret and the pilot’s feet on the rudder pedals with what was usually a breathless series of instructions, “Left, left”, “Right” or “Steady”, the word “left” always being repeated so as not to be confused with “right” against the various external and internal noises of a bomber aircraft. Current at the time was a somewhat school-boyish joke that one Observer had so far forgotten himself in the excitement of the bombing run to call urgently to the pilot, “Back a bit!”
The remaining three crew members each wore the air gunner’s ‘AG’ half-wing on his chest. But one, in addition, had the cluster of
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lightning flashes of a wireless operator on his sleeve and was invariably referred to, not by the official designation of wireless operator/air gunner but with the racy and succinct abbreviation ‘WopAG’. His was the task of obtaining as many bearings on radio stations, both R.A.F. and, if he was able, B.B.C. and German civilian stations such as Hamburg or Deutschlandsender and pass the information to the Observer in the next compartment. He must also, at designated times, listen out to messages from his base aerodrome and also his Group Headquarters. In addition, in emergency, he could attempt to obtain a course to steer to any given bomber station by requesting from them a QDM, the code for that information. But this was regarded as being rather infra dig.
The two ‘straight AGs’, as the other gunners were known, occupied their respective gun turrets with a few inches to spare, one at the front and one at the rear of the aircraft, the coldest positions, despite their electrically heated leather Irvin suits. In the ‘tail-end Charlie’s’ case it was the loneliest position in the aircraft and the most hazardous if attacked by a Luftwaffe night-fighter, but the safest if a sudden crash-landing became necessary, or if the order to bale out was given in some dire emergency, when he simply rotated his turret through ninety degrees, clipped on his parachute, jettisoned the turret doors and fell out backwards. Each turret was equipped with two .303 inch Browning guns, lovingly maintained and cared for by their users, pitifully inadequate when compared to the cannon of the German night-fighters.
To be in the firing line of these Luftwaffe cannon was not at all pleasant. Although never, fortunately, experiencing it in the air, Charlie, my room-mate, and I, billeted in Kneesworth Hall close to the aerodrome, on the old Roman road of Ermine Street, were quietly writing letters one evening in our first-floor room when we heard, and ignored, the noise of the air-raid siren from the village. Bassingbourn was one of the nearest training aerodromes, and certainly the nearest bomber O.T.U., to the east coast, although a fair distance from it. But this fact must have been well known to the enemy, who paid us periodic visits. One aircraft, in fact – I believe it was a Junkers 88 – either by design or mischance actually landed at
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Steeple Morden, our satellite aerodrome and became the property of H.M. Government and the Air Ministry, subsequently appearing as part of the circus of captured German aircraft in flying condition which we once saw flying out of Duxford, a nearby fighter station, where they were based, and heavily escorted by a squadron of Spitfires indulging in some plain and fancy flying around them to discourage curious onlookers such as we, who might have gone so far as to try to shoot them down, if in sufficiently rash a mood. However, to return to Kneesworth Hall and the air raid warning. Charlie and I carried on with our respective writing until we were suddenly aware of a strange aircraft engine noise becoming rapidly louder, accompanied by the loud and staccato banging of cannon-fire as the German intruder shot-up the road, the village and approaches to the aerodrome. Our letters were swiftly thrown aside as we, with violent expletives, flung ourselves under our respective beds. My future rear gunner also had a tale to tell concerning an attack by an intruder.
The taking of sun-sights over, we were instructed to gather in one of the hangars to be crewed up. There was, as I recall, no formal procedure attached to this important and far-reaching event. One of two instructors acted somewhat like shepherds directing straggling sheep to make up a group of six which was to be a crew. There must have been a hundred or more aircrew of all categories milling around rather haphazardly until, perhaps, a beckoning hand, a lifted eyebrow or a resigned grin bonded one man to another or to a group as yet incomplete. The whole procedure, if indeed it could be graced by that term, seemed to be quite without organisation, the complete antithesis of all previous group activities I had experienced since putting on my uniform eleven months before. Here, there was no falling-in in threes, or lining up alphabetically. (And how I used to long for anyone named Young who would replace me, the invariable and forlorn last man in any line for whatever was to be received or done.)
“You lookin’ f’r ‘n Observer?”
He was tallish, rather sallow and thin-faced, in Australian dark blue uniform with its black buttons, Sergeant’s chevrons on his sleeves, the winged ‘0’ above his breast pocket.
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“Sure. Glad to have you,” I said.
This was Colin, more often than not simply ‘Col’. He was to guide us unfailingly through the skies, friendly skies by day and night, then through the hostile moonlit spaces over Germany and Occupied Europe. Col, from Randwick, near Sydney, with his baritone voice which quite often suddenly creaked, almost breaking as he spoke, with his wry sense of humour, his sudden, almost apologetic half-stifled laughter, his strange, colourful vocabulary – “Take five!” His term, sometimes sarcastically uttered, of approval. And when he suspected that I or some other member of the crew was trying to kid him – “Aw, don’t come the raw prawn!” A single man, his father working for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation.
Later, one night on ops with the Squadron to Kiel where the Gneisenau was skulking after its dash up the Channel from Brest with the Scharnhorst and Prinz Eugen, Col performed a wonderfully accurate piece of navigation. It was on an occasion, of which there were several, when the Met. forecast was completely inaccurate, which we feared when we entered cloud at 600 feet after take-off. We climbed slowly until we could climb no more in the thin air and reached 20,500 feet, still in cloud, a faint blur of moonlight showing above us. We bombed the centre of the flak concentration in the target area, completely blind, but saw several large explosions which we duly reported on our interrogation back at base. Losing height slowly on the way back and with an unwelcome passenger in the shape of the 1000 pound bomb which had hung-up, I broke cloud at something around 1000 feet on return, a mere four miles south of our intended position, to see the welcome finger of Spurn Head down to starboard and the four red obstruction lights of a radar station near Cleethorpes gleaming ahead. Over seven hours in cloud and an error of only four miles, thanks to Col’s abilities. It was on this raid, by Wellingtons, 68 in total, of our No. 1 Group, that the Gneisenau was so badly damaged that she never sailed again from her berth. Many of her crew were killed. Perhaps it was our bombs that had done the damage, who knows.
I once found Col, on an op, being quietly sick into a tin at the side of his plotting-table, his face ashen, but carrying on despite that.
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Such was his dauntless spirit. He had my unspoken sympathy as a fellow-sufferer.
A pale, poker-faced and very quiet Royal Canadian Air Force sergeant pilot attached himself to us. Elmer, as the rest of the crew came to christen him, was silent to a degree, but despite that somehow exuded a quiet if somewhat forlorn determination. When we reached the Squadron in October he joined Mike Duder’s crew. Five of the six of them were killed when, damaged by flak over Essen on Mike’s 29th trip, his last but one of his tour had he completed it, they were finished off by a night-fighter and crashed in Holland. It was not until many years later that I learned a little more about Elmer. Although in the R.C.A.F., he was not, in fact, a Canadian, but a citizen of the United States of American, from St. Paul, Minnesota. Before Pearl Harbor [sic] he had an urge to fly against the Germans, possibly because of his Central European forbears. He volunteered for the U.S. Air Force as a pilot and underwent his initial training. Unfortunately, like many others, he had trouble with his landings and was failed. He returned home undeterred, with his desire to become a pilot undimmed. To raise money for the course of action upon which he had decided, he took a job in a sweet factory and augmented his wages by working as a petrol pump attendant. He then travelled to Canada and enlisted in the R.C.A.F. This time he successfully completed his training and got his long-desired wings. All this I learned years later when I was able to trace his sister-in-law and with a residual sense of guilt over my at times impatient, if not downright snappy instructions to him in the air, I have attempted to salve my conscience by having several times visited his grave, and those of his crew, in a war cemetery in a small, neat town in the Netherlands.
The ‘father’ of our crew was Mick, our Wop/AG, the only married man amongst us. In peacetime – or ‘civvy street’ as it was invariably known – he had worked at Lucas’ in Birmingham and was knowledgeable on most things electrical and mechanical, owning a small Ford car as well as a motor cycle. The former was later well used on stand-down nights on the Squadron for trips into G.Y. (as Grimsby was known) and I once had the doubtful pleasure of a hair-raising pillion ride
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over snow-covered skating rink minor roads, on his motor cycle, also into Grimsby, which was almost as nerve-wracking to me as a trip to Essen. Mick (this was not his given name) was tallish, fairly well-built, with a high forehead, a studious manner, a slight ‘Brummy’ accent and an unconsciously querulous voice. It was he, I think, who christened me ‘Harry’, by which name I became known by the rest of the crew, and the use of which, after their loss, I have strongly discouraged. Mick had done part of his training somewhere in Lincolnshire and had frequented, and knew the landlady, Edna, of the Market Hotel on Yarborough Road in G.Y., which became a home from home for us on stand-down nights. He had a habit concerning which Col and I wryly complained on several occasions, of, on being asked over the intercom. for some information, would testily reply, “Hey, shut up, I’m listening out to Group.” We met his wife once, in the ‘Market’, Mick proudly introducing her to us all, a shy, rather self-effacing girl, soon to become a widow.
Our gunners were a wonderfully contrasted pair. Johnnie, from a small Suffolk town – and again, not his given name – in the front turret, was slim, neat in appearance, quiet of speech and demeanour, moderate in his choice of words and apparently completely without fear. No matter what the circumstances, his voice over the intercom. was as calm and measured as though he were indulging in casual conversation over a glass of beer. On the way to Essen one night we were suddenly coned in a dozen or more searchlights and the German flak gunners got to work on us. Cookie was hurling the aircraft all over the sky in his attempts to get us out of the mess, and I was being hurled all over the interior of the aircraft, which was lit up as bright as day. In a steep dive, attempting to escape from the combined attack of searchlights and flak bursts, Johnnie, without being told, opened fire with several short bursts from his twin Brownings on the searchlight batteries, and immediately we were freed from them as they snapped out as though all controlled by a single switch. Johnnie bought himself no beer the next time we went to the ‘Market’.
In contrast to Johnnie’s urbanity there was Tommy, our cockney rear gunner. I am still looking for Tommy, still seeking to discover what became of him after he was admitted to hospital after a few ops with us, whether even today, somewhere, he is alive. J – would have
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described him, had she, like me, had the good fortune to know him, as being like Tigger, a very bouncy animal. Although not tall, he was built like a boxer or a rugby prop forward, solid, chunky – even more so when kitted up in his Irvin suit – with a gleaming broad red face, scarred in one place, topped by rather long and slightly untidy Brylcreemed hair, his face almost always split in a broad grin. He was cheerful, cocky, good-humoured, never short of a quip, lively and effervescent, and he was a tonic to us all when things were going against us.
He laughingly described to us one incident in which he was involved while in his training Flight in the weeks before coming into the crew. He had been on a night cross-country involving an air-to-sea firing exercise, aiming, presumably, at a flame float which they dropped in the English Channel. Several other gunners were taken along on the trip and after Tommy had fired his allotted number of rounds he retired to the rest bed half way down the Wellington’s fuselage, unplugged his intercom., closed his eyes and fell asleep, the padded earpieces of his helmet dulling the noise of the engines and of the rattle of the Brownings fired by his fellow-pupils. He awoke with a start, someone shaking him violently and yelling in his ear, “Bale out! Bale out!” The aircraft was being jinked around the sky in evasive action from the attack of a German fighter. By the time Tommy had collected his wits, found and clipped on his parachute and jumped through the open escape hatch, the aircraft was down to approximately 600 feet, the lowest safe altitude to allow a parachute to open. No sooner had it done so than he was down to earth, to the softest of all possible landings – in a haystack.
He had no idea where he was, nor what had happened to the aircraft or to the others in it, and certainly no idea of the planned route of the cross-country flight.
“I hadn’t a bloody clue where the hell I was,” he told us, “could’ve been in France, Germany England, any bloody where.”
So he collected his deployed parachute into his arms and in the darkness plodded away from the scene of his sudden and fortuitous landing upon the earth. The unfamiliar countryside was silent and
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dark. He came upon a ditch under a hedge and rightly decided to spend the night there. In the morning he would take stock of his position. In the ditch, he rolled himself into his parachute, comfortably warm inside his leather Irvin suit and once more slept.
In the morning, at daylight, he cautiously emerged to size up the situation. On the other side of the hedge was a narrow road. Keeping well hidden, he awaited developments. Presently, the distant sound of voices alerted him and two men dressed in farm-workers’ clothes came walking along the lane. Tommy strained his ears to catch their conversation, to determine what language they were speaking. To his relief he heard familiar English words. Tommy emerged and, perhaps too quickly, confronted them. But startled as they were by his sudden appearance and flying clothing, they were soon convinced of his nationality when he employed his colourful vocabulary to some effect. They directed him to the nearest house where he received some much-needed refreshment and telephoned his flight Commander at Bassingbourn.
On our evenings out at the ‘Market’ in G.Y. he always made a point of collecting small empty ginger ale bottles after one or other of us – often it was I – had added the contents to our gin. These he would take along on our next op., storing them handily in his already cramped rear turret ready for use. We had heard it said that if caught in searchlights, a couple of empty bottles thrown out would, during their descent, scream like falling bombs and cause the searchlight crew to douse their light, and one night on the approach to the Happy Valley, as the Ruhr, with the somewhat black humour of bomber crews, was known, when we were trapped in searchlights he proved, by throwing out a few bottles, that this was no old wives’ tale. It worked like a charm and we slipped through the defences and on to Essen.
(Soon afterwards, on leave, I was relating this to an elderly and very unworldly female relation, who, to my amazement and vast amusement was alarmed and scandalised, wide-eyed and open mouthed. “Oh! But you might have killed somebody!” she exclaimed.)
I have made several attempts to find out whether Tommy survived the war. In correspondence with a contemporary Squadron member, he
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wrote to say that he had a copy of a Squadron Battle Order in which Tommy’s name appeared in relation to an operation, as rear gunner in some crew whose names were unfamiliar to me, but that Tommy’s name had been crossed out in pencil and another substituted. Whatever the significance of that, neither he nor I could tell after the lapse of time. A message on the Internet, placed by my Dutch friends, has produced no result.
Are you out there somewhere, Tommy? If so, you and I are the only two survivors of the six who came together on that sunny August day in the echoing hangar at Bassingbourn those years ago. I miss you all, more than words can express; I think of you every day that passes, and I never cease to grieve for you, nor ever shall.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[underlined] Enemy coast [/underlined]
Through cockpit window now,
The lemon-slice of moon,
Some random stars
Pricked in a hemisphere of indigo.
Ahead, the coastline waits –
Pale, wavering beams
As innocent as death
Rehearse the adagio ballet
Which will transfix us
On pinnacles of light
For ravening guns.
But for a space
In this brief, breathless safety,
Poised high above the metal
Of the neutral sea,
We hang in vacuum,
Scattered like moths,
Mute castaways in sky.
Until, inevitable, we penetrate
The charnel-house of dreams,
That swift unveiling of Apocalypse
Familiar to us
As the routine holocaust
Which other men call night.
H.Y.
June 1991
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[inserted] [underlined] Images of mortality [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] IMAGES OF MORTALITY [/underlined]
Someone, once, to whom I had been talking – perhaps, it must be admitted, at rather too great length – of my time at Binbrook, cut across my words impatiently with, “Ah, yes, but you were at an impressionable age then.”
Not being by nature argumentative I let the comment pass, and the subject was rapidly changed. But the memory of that remark has remained with me. Broadly, I would not dispute its accuracy, for surely, at whatever age one is, one should be, and should remain, impressionable. But here, the implication seemed to be that the events I had been speaking of were not of such importance to have remained so strongly in my memory as they had done. I was then, and still find myself now, a little annoyed by that viewpoint. The happenings of that period of time were of considerable importance to us participants, and the young men, or youths, as some of us were who were involved, were all, in their own individual ways remarkable to one extent or another, by any standards of unbiased judgement. But perhaps my bias is showing.
Be that as it may, when I think of Binbrook now, there comes into my mind a cascade of kaleidoscopic impressions of scenes, small scenes maybe, and of faces and voices, images of places and of people fixed into my memory like the black and white snapshots secured in an album of photographs.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
It was a shock to me when I saw it for the first time, walking up the road from the Mess towards the hangars. Being a peacetime Station – only just – Binbrook was equipped with the standard pattern of permanent buildings, including a row of what had been married quarters – a few semi-detached, two-storied houses. For some seconds I couldn’t think what had happened over there when I saw that most of the top storey of one of the houses had been shattered and was broken off. I halted in my stride, quite appalled at the unexpected and shocking sight. My first thought, an almost instinctive reaction in those days, was “enemy action”, then it slowly dawned on me that
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this was not so, that the building had, horrifyingly, been struck by one of our own aircraft, either on taking off or on landing, using the short runway. Who it had been, and what casualties had resulted, I never knew. I was too shaken to ask and no-one, certainly, ever volunteered the information. It was not a topic of conversation one indulged in or dwelled upon. But similar incidents were to involve my room-mate, Johnny Stickings, and I was to escape the same fate by only a few scant feet, and by the grace of God.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Johnny had been somewhat longer on the Squadron than I, an Observer in Sergeant O’Connell’s crew. He was short, rather chunky and pale, with straight hair the colour of dark sand. I think we were both much of a type, for while we never went around together, we were perfectly pleasant towards one another and quite happy to be sharing a room, never getting in each other’s way or on each other’s nerves.
One winter’s morning I woke to find his bed still neatly made up and unslept in. At breakfast I heard that his aircraft had crashed the previous night, coming back from an op., on Wilhelmshaven, I believe. As far as anyone could tell me there had been both casualties and survivors. It was later that day when I returned to the room, and found Johnny in bed.
As I recall, he seemed rather dazed and quiet, as well he might have been. He went into few details of the incident; possibly his conscious mind was shying away from the harrowing experience, or perhaps he had been given a sedative. What he did tell me was that when the aircraft crashed he remembered being thrown clear. He had been flung bodily into a small wooden hut on some farmland in Lincolnshire. The hut had collapsed around him and he was only discovered lying in its wreckage by chance, when one of the rescue party noticed the demolished building.
For several years, on the anniversary of the crash, there was an entry in the memorials in the “Daily Telegraph”, to Sergeants O’Connell, Parsons, Laing and Delaney, signed “Johnny”. Then one year the entry no longer appeared.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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Life on the Squadron produced, naturally, shocks to one’s nervous system. Shocks which one could reasonably expect as part and parcel of the normal run of operational flying, and which to one extent or another were predictable. It was the unexpected ones which shook one more violently than the rest; the dazzling blue of a searchlight out of nowhere which flicked unerringly and tenaciously on to one’s aircraft, the long uneventful silence of flying through a black winter’s night being suddenly shattered by a flakburst just off the wingtip. These were things which could set the pulse, in an instant, racing to twice its normal speed.
But there was an incident which occurred in, of all places, the ablutions of the Officers’ Mess, an incident which was so completely unexpected and, at the time, heaven forgive me, so utterly shocking, that it froze me into complete immobility, open-mouthed, horrified, and, for an instant, uncomprehending.
Apart from, as they are termed, the usual offices, in the dimly-lit stone-floored rooms, there were, naturally, a row of washbasins. I was washing my hands at one end of this row one evening when I heard a soft footstep nearby and I distinguished a figure in the feeble blue light which served to illuminate the place. What was so shocking was the face, a random patchwork of different shades of vivid red, white and pink, two long vertical cuts from the ends of the mouth to the chin, the eyelids unnaturally lifeless and mis-shapen, the hair of the head in isolated tufts falling at random on the skull over the brow.
As he moved, I recovered myself and muttered some vague greeting as I went hurriedly out, back to the normality of the well-lit, noisy anteroom. It was a while before I recovered from this un-nerving encounter. Someone subsequently told me about Eddie. He was a burn case, one of McIndoe’s ‘guinea pigs’. A pilot, he had crashed, taking off in a Hampden. The aircraft had burst into flames. The Hampden’s cockpit was notoriously difficult to get out of in a hurry and he had fried in his own greases until he was rescued. Richard Hillary, in his well-known book ‘The Last Enemy’, described Eddie as the worst-burned man in the R.A.F. He was now a pilot in the Target Towing
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Flight, flying drogue-towing Lysanders on gunnery practices.
Possibly because we both frequented the games room a fair amount, he and I slowly drifted together. No-one made any sympathetic noises towards Eddie, that was definitely not done, and no-one made the slightest concession towards him either. He played against me often at table-tennis, with a controlled ferocity which could have only have been born of the desire to live his spared life completely to the full. Frequently, a clump of his dark auburn hair would flop uncontrollably down over his eyes, to expose an area of shiny red scalp, upon which hair would never again grow, one of the numerous grafts on his head and face, the skin having been taken, he told me, mostly from his thighs. He would damn it cheerfully and push it roughly back again with his sudden slash of a broad grin, which never reached his lashless and expressionless eyes.
I had detected some accent which I could not place. One day while we were sitting together in the anteroom, chatting, he mentioned that he was a South African.
“Oh?” I said, “Where from? I’ve got relations out there.”
“Where do they live?”
I named the town.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he said, “that’s where I’m from; what’s their name?”
I told him.
“Have you a cousin called Edna?”
“Why, yes,” I said, astonishment growing every second.
“I used to go around with her,” he laughed, “it’s a small world, isn’t it?”
Eddie, I am glad to say, survived the war. There is a photograph of him, among others of McIndoe’s ‘Army’, in a book named ‘Churchill’s Few.’
. . . . . . . . . . . .
What can one say of Teddy Bairstow? Only that, had he lived fifty years before his time he would have been described, I am sure, as ‘A Card’ or as ‘A Character’.
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Unlike Tony Payne or Jim Heyworth, for example, he was physically unimpressive; very thin-faced and pale, sparse hair brushed sideways across his head, but with eyes as bright as those of the fox’s head of our mascot. It was his voice, however, which one remembers best, grating, strident and penetrative in its broad Yorkshire accents. When he was in the room, everyone knew it, and the place seemed filled with his jovial, but somehow, rueful, almost apprehensive presence.
Teddy had a stock phrase which he used whenever anyone asked him, for example, what sort of a trip he had had. He would lift his voice in both pitch and volume and exclaim to the world at large, “Ee! ‘twere a shaky do!” He had, to everyone’s knowledge, at least one very shaky do. Coming back from some op, he found, for one reason or another, that he wasn’t going to make it back to Binbrook. But he was reasonably close, he had crossed the Lincolnshire coast, and decided he would force-land his aircraft. But no wheels-up-belly-landing, as he should have done, for Teddy. Incredibly, he did a normal landing, if it could be described in those terms, undercarriage down, in the darkness, into a field near Louth, and got away with it without nosing over into a disastrous cartwheel. Few would have survived to tell the tale – Sergeant O’Connell certainly had not done so – but everyone agreed with Teddy’s usual comment. ‘Twere indeed a shaky do.
Towards the end of February Teddy’s luck ran out. We went after the German pocket-battleship Gneisenau in Kiel Docks, where it was holed up after escaping up the Channel. Teddy did not come back.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Somehow, it happened that Eric and I tended to gravitate together to play billiards or table tennis in the Mess games room, and for the odd glass of beer. It was, I think, possibly because like me, he was the only one of commissioned rank in his crew, apart from Abey, that is, who was his pilot and our Flight Commander, a Squadron Leader, very much senior in rank to both of us. Eric was Abey’s Observer, tall, well built, unfailingly polite, his manner polished and urbane, yet by no means superior. We got along very well; I enjoyed his company, and I like to think he enjoyed mine.
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It was one afternoon when we had a stand-down. Frequently, my crew and I would go in to Grimsby, to the cinema, then to the “Market” for a meal with Edna, the landlady, possibly stay the night, and come back in time to report to the Flights next morning. We usually managed to cram ourselves into Mick’s, our wireless operator’s, Ford. However, on this particular afternoon, possibly because we were broke, there were no such arrangements. I happened to bump into Eric in a corridor, in the Mess. We said “hello”, then he stopped suddenly and said, “I say, are you interested in music?”
“Yes, I am, rather,” I said, not knowing what to expect.
“Well, look, I’m just going along to old Doug’s room, he’s going to play some records – would you like to come along? I’m sure he won’t mind.”
So I went. Doug was pleased to see us both. He wound up his portable gramophone and put on Tchaikovsky’s ‘Valse des Fleurs’. I can never hear that lovely, lilting piece without thinking of that afternoon in Doug Langley’s room, lost in the beauty of discovery of orchestral music, and remembering Doug himself, with his light-ginger hair and luxuriant moustache, sitting, eyes closed, head thrown back, as Eric and I listened attentively. From there, on a subsequent stand-down night we went to a real symphony concert, my first ever, in Grimsby, and a whole new and wonderful world had opened up for me, thanks to Eric and Doug.
Abey’s crew went missing on Kiel, the same night as Teddy Bairstow. It was years later that I knew that Eric, and indeed, the rest of the crew, had survived. Desperate for contacts after J – ‘s death, I hunted through telephone directories until I found his name, and contacted him. After a few phone calls, and the exchange of several long letters, I met him in London. Being the men we are, it was an affectionate but undemonstrative greeting, a handshake and smiles rather than arms around shoulders and tears.
His was a simple story. With quite typical frankness he told me, and M – who was with me, that it was all his fault that they had got shot down. There had, he said, been some fault in his navigation, a very common thing in those days when navigational aids were almost nil, when such things as Gee and H2S had never been heard of. On the way to Kiel they had strayed over Sylt, a notorious hot spot of an island off the Danish-German coast.
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They were hit be flak in their starboard engine, which put it out of action. After a discussion as to the alternatives open to them, Abey had turned for home, in the fond hope that one good engine would be sufficient to carry them to the English coast. It was not to be; they were losing too much height to be able to make it back across the wide and inhospitable North Sea. The next option was to turn round again, fly across enemy-occupied Denmark and try to get to Sweden, where they would bale out and be interned for the duration. Again, their loss of height eventually ruled this out, they would never have a hope of reaching any Swedish territory. The third and final option was to bale out over Denmark. This they did, one after the other, successfully, over the island of Funen. They were all immediately taken prisoner. Eric and Abey finished up in the notorious prison campo Stalag Luft III, Sagan, the scene of the “Wooden Horse” tunnel – and of the murder of fifty aircrew officer prisoners by the Germans.
Eric, to my and to M – ‘s fascination, produced an album of pencil sketches he had made on odd scraps of paper, of prison-camp life. I asked him how he had been treated as a P.o.W., those three and more years that he spent behind the wire. Typically, again, he said, “Oh, I didn’t have too bad a time, really, you know.”
What could one say in reply to that? I simply shook my head in wonder. Of course, among others, we mentioned Teddy Bairstow. He and his crew had not been so fortunate. Nor had Doug Langley, whose grave I found, quite by accident, in a quiet cemetery in norther Holland a short time afterwards.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I returned to Binbrook after many years. But only to the village. I had already found the Market Hotel in Grimsby where I went so often with my crew. I had stood for several minutes, looking up at the windows of the rooms we used to have, and remembering kindly Edna, who treated us like sons. Remembering Col, and Mick, and Johnnie, of my original crew. Remembering Cookie, our skipper, and Mac, our rear gunner, the Canadians among us. Thinking of the man I never knew, Rae, the man who had taken my place, the man who had died instead of me.
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When I arrived at Binbrook, I found I could barely contain my emotion. I recovered myself to some extent while I drank a cup of coffee in the Marquis of Granby, the well-remembered pub in the village. I stood for a long time at the top of the hill, on the road which led down into the valley and up again to the now deserted and silent aerodrome. I stood, remembering again, seeing, across the distance, visions of the Wellingtons I and my friends had flown, parked in their dispersals, the movement of men around them, and their faces, hearing their long-stilled voices. But I could go no closer to them than that. There were too many memories, too many ghosts.
On that fine morning the images of mortality were too real to be borne.
. . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Tony [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] TONY [/underlined]
At the time when I subscribed to ‘Readers’ Digest’ there would appear in each issue a short article entitled ‘The Most Unforgettable Character I Have Ever Met’. I find that this description could fittingly apply to Tony Payne.
When I had the privilege of knowing him, Tony, at the age of 21, was already a veteran in terms of ability and experience, looked up to almost in reverence as one of the elite pilots on the Squadron.
And whenever I recall the Officers’ Mess at Binbrook with its high-ceilinged anteroom just across the main corridor from the dining room, with the eternal, homely smell of coffee from the big urn near to the door, I can visualise Tony as he was so often, standing slightly to one side of the fire, pewter tankard in hand, holding court, as it were, the focal point of all eyes and conversation, eternally smiling and cheerful, his crisp, clear voice sounding above the music from the worn record on the radiogram which would be softly playing a catchy little tune, a favourite of his, called ‘The Cuckoo’. I have never heard it, or heard of it, even, since that time, but I could never forget it, as it was almost Tony’s signature tune. But Tony was entering the last six months of his life.
He had the gift of holding everyone’s attention by his witty observations on most things operational – and non-operational, his words rolling brightly and optimistically off his tongue, his eyes shining with the pleasure of living for the moment, and that moment alone, of good company and comradeship.
Once we were discussing a particular trip. (They were always ‘trips’, occasionally ‘ops’ but never ‘sorties’ or ‘missions’). Someone was describing our attempts to locate some target in Germany one night recently. There had been only sporadic gunfire aimed at us whn [sic] we arrived at about 20,000 feet, and that gunfire, we knew, was not necessarily from the immediate area of the target.
“What did you think about it, Tony?” someone asked. Tony beamed at the question, leaned slightly forward and declaimed with mock solemnity and a judicial air, “Ah! Then I knew that something was afoot!” he said.
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Among his many friends, or ‘familiars’ as they might have once been known, (a description singularly appropriate), was the Senior Flying Control Officer (or ‘Regional Control Officer’ in the terminology then in force) Flight Lieutenant Bradshaw, “Bradders” to everyone. He was old enough to be Tony’s and our father, a World War I pilot beribboned with the ‘Pip, Squeak and Wilfred’ campaign ribbons of that conflict, slightly portly, fairly short in stature, of equable temperament and genial in manner, his iron-grey to white hair meticulously trimmed. A great deal of repartee was invariably exchanged by the two, doubtless born of their mutual affection despite the disparity in their ages.
To our delight one day, Tony hurried into the anteroom in a state of high glee, carrying a small, brown-paper wrapped parcel the size of a large book.
“Wait till you see this, you types!” he crowed to his audience, which included Bradders, who was as intrigued as the rest of us. Tony slowly, tantalisingly slowly, unwrapped his mysterious parcel then dramatically held up its contents for all to see. It was a gilt-framed oil painting of a side-whiskered old man in a country churchyard, his foot upon the shoulder of a spade, a battered old felt hat on his head. The frame bore the title – ‘Old Bradshaw, the village sexton’. It brought the house down and it was ceremoniously hung on the anteroom wall near to the portrait of Flying Officer Donald Garland, one of the Squadron’s two posthumous Victoria Cross recipients, and near also to the mounted fox’s head, our Squadron badge, which had been presented to ‘Abey’, Squadron Leader Abraham, our Flight Commander, on his posting from a Polish O.T.U. where he had been instructing, to 12 Squadron.
At about this time the Air Ministry commissioned Eric Kennington, a noted war artist, to make portraits of outstanding aircrew members, many in Bomber Command, and Tony was one of those selected to sit for him. He sat in his usual place at one end of the anteroom fireplace while Kennington went about his work. The Mess kept a respectful silence while this was proceeding, conversing only in whispers and never attempting to peer over the artist’s shoulder. Some time later, the finished portrait was hung in a place of honour on the wall, to Tony’s laughing embarrassment.
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It was only within these last few years that during a telephone conversation with Eric, my friend, fellow-survivor and table tennis and billiards opponent of those days, who had been Squadron Leader Abraham’s Observer when they were shot down over Denmark, that he asked me if I remembered Tony’s portrait, and whether I knew what happened to it. I confessed that I had almost forgotten about it and did not have any idea what had become of it. But his question touched off in me a desire to find out. It seemed logical that in the first instance I should consult my local Library to see whether they might possibly have any book of the Kennington portraits. It did have such a book, and they brought it out to me. Unfortunately, Tony’s likeness was not among the hundred or so reproduced, but he was mentioned in the index of all the portraits which the artist had undertaken. Where next? I decided that the obvious next step was to contact the R.A.F. Museum at Hendon. There I struck gold. They had the original portrait in storage and swiftly sent me a photo-copy. I obtained two copies, one of which I sent to Eric. Today, a sizeable and well-produced copy of Tony’s portrait hang on my wall where I can look on it with a mixture of affection, pleasure and great sadness, as well as a sense of honour that such a fine man and such a fine pilot could have wanted me to join his crew. I was more than a little surprised when he did so and have often wondered what prompted him to approach me. It was prior to his finishing his first tour, and I have described the incident and its calamitous sequel in the next chapter.
His crew, on his first tour with us, must truly have been quite exceptional. To have completed their tour made them exceptional enough. The chances of that were a considerable way short of evens. There was an example of their ‘press on regardless’ spirit and of the brilliant navigation of Tony’s Observer, Sergeant Dooley, a dapper, smiling little Englishman, on one of our trips to Kiel to bomb the pocket-battleship Gneisenau.
We rarely had an accurate Met. forecast on the trips we did in that winter of 1941-42, and on this night the conditions turned out to be worse than even the Met. Officer had forecast. We took off in the darkness and gloom and entered heavy cloud at 600 feet We climbed
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steadily out over the North Sea but at 20,500 feet we had still not reached clear air. With our bomb load we could climb no higher. We were somewhere in the top of the cloud mass, the moon a faint blur of light on our starboard bow. Below and around us were numerous gun-flashes from the flak defences of Kiel, and as obtaining a visual pinpoint was obviously impossible we bombed the centre of the flak concentration. We turned for home, still in cloud. After over three hours of manual flying, concentrating solely on the instrument panel in front of me, and losing height slowly down to 1,000 feet, I became aware that we had finally reached the cloudbase. Then to my relief and delight I pinpointed Spurn Head, our crossing-in point, about four miles to starboard, and saw the four red obstruction lights of the radar station near Cleethorpes dead ahead. We heartily congratulated Col on his navigation – seven hours plus in cloud and only four miles off track at the end of it.
But Sergeant Dooley and Tony had outshone us. Like us, finding the target in Kiel docks completely cloud-covered he had refused the opportunity to bomb blind as most of us had done. They set course for the Baltic Sea, topped the cloud and found moonlight – and stars. Flying straight and level, which one had to do to take astro-shots of the various stars on the astrograph chart, and which one could safely do over the sea, but which was a most unhealthy undertaking over hostile territory, Sergeant Dooley obtained an astro fix of their exact position. He then plotted a dead-reckoning track and course to the target, some distance away, and when their E.T.A. was up, bombed on that. The Squadron Navigation Officer subsequently re-plotted his whole log and found that they had been ‘spot-on’ the target. Such was the ability and experience of Tony and his crew.
When his tour was finally over and he had a well-deserved D.F.C. to his credit he was posted away to some hush-hush job at an aerodrome on Salisbury Plain, and both the Mess and B Flight Office were the poorer and less colourful for his going.
My final meeting with him before my posting and his shockingly unexpected and untimely death was a few weeks after he had left the Squadron at the end of his tour. He appeared one day, cheerful and unchanged as ever, in the anteroom one lunchtime. He had flown up,
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unofficially, one guessed, in a small, twin-engined trainer. He was, he told us, flying all sorts of kites, at all sorts of heights, mostly over the Channel. He alleged that ‘they’, whoever they might be, and he did nothing to enlighten us on that, even wanted him to fly inverted on occasions. Beyond that he said nothing, and we did not ask him too many questions. He mentioned that although he had flown up to see us in the Oxford, one of the several aircraft at the secret establishment, he would have preferred something else – “I wanted to come in the Walrus”, he chuckled, naming an antiquated and noisy single-pusher-engined flying boat, usually operated by the Fleet Air Arm.
“I’d love to have taxied up to the Watch Office and chucked the anchor out!”
He left us after a cheerful lunch and went for ever out of my life, for which I am greatly the poorer.
It seems that he came back to 12, without a crew, for a second tour and was insistent on taking part in the first 1,000 bomber raid, that on Cologne, with a completely new crew. His was the first aircraft to be shot down that night. It happened over the outskirts of Amsterdam. How he came to be there will always remain a mystery to me, as the route planned for that night to Cologne lay over the estuary of the Scheldt, mush [sic] further south, its numerous islands providing invaluable pinpoints.
He and all his crew are buried in beautifully tended graves in a shady part of Amsterdam’s New Eastern Cemetery, which I have several times visited.
On one visit to Amsterdam I had contacted a Dutchman who had formed part of the team of volunteers who had excavated the remains of C-Charlie, Tony’s aircraft on that fatal night in May 1942. I was able to visit the crash site in the suburb of Badhoevedorp. A small museum of remembrance had been created in some old underground fortifications on the outskirts of the city where were reverently displayed several small identifiable components of the aircraft, as well as one or two pathetic personal belongings of the crew. I was offered, and accepted, a small section of the geodetic construction of the Wellington and this now has a place of honour in my living room, where Tony, from his portrait, appears to be looking down upon it.
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[inserted] [underlined] Mind you don’t scratch the paint [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] MIND YOU DON’T SCRATCH THE PAINT [/underlined]
After what happened that night to his beloved Z-Zebra when we, for the first and only time, were being allowed to fly it on ops, I could have quite understood if Tony had never wanted to have anything to do with me, or with any of the crew, again.
But instead, after it was all over, for some time afterwards, whenever he happened to see me in the anteroom there would come into his eyes a gleam of what I could only interpret as amusement, but something more besides; this was a look of amusement mingled with a knowledge and appreciation of our good fortune, the look which perhaps a proud parent gives to his offspring as he sees him emerge from the last obstacle of a tricky course in the school sports and run triumphantly towards the finishing line, a “by-God-you’ve-done-it” look. A fanciful idea maybe, but the more I look back on it, the more I am sure that was what it was.
It was when we had already done a handful of ops, I remember, and when he himself must have been well on towards finishing his tour – remarkable enough in itself – and quite some while after the events which led to his, and our, final trip in ‘Z’ that he caught my eye and beckoned me over, one day when there was no flying, in the mess at Binbrook. He and I were both standing among the small crowd of aircrew officers near the fireplace, tankards in our hands, nearly all of us smoking, under the gaze of the portrait of Donald Garland, V.C., and of the fox’s mask mounted on its wooden shield.
And when I had made my way towards him he paid me a great and surprising compliment, he who was without doubt one of the finest of the many fine pilots on the Squadron.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
But the story, of course, starts some time before that, when we were very much the new boys, before I and the rest of the crew had been blooded on ops. When we had arrived on the Squadron from our Operational Training Unit at Bassingbourn, Elmer, my co-pilot,
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had been allocated to Mike Duder’s crew, while the rest of us had been taken over, as it were, by Ralph, a pilot who had a few ops already to his credit. We settled down comfortably enough with him and went through the final stages of our familiarisation and training on the Mark II Wellington in preparation for our first operation together. This landmark in one’s flying career was something which I, at any rate, had looked forward to – if that is the correct form of words – with a mixture of curiosity, awe and a certain degree of apprehension tinged with excitement; I regarded it as a large step into a completely unknown world. Just how hazardous a step it would turn out to be I was soon to discover.
At that time, my logbook tells me, we had no aircraft which we could really regard as our own, perhaps because we were a fresher crew, I don’t know. However, we had flown seven different aircraft since joining ‘B’ Flight. One morning we reported as usual, to the Flights. I had the privilege of using, along with others, Abey’s, our Flight Commander’s, office as a sort of mini-crewroom. It was late November and we sat around talking, shop mostly, until about ten o’clock, when Abey’s phone rang. All conversation stopped. We knew what it would be – either another stand-down, or a target. It was a target, for freshers only. It would not be named until briefing that afternoon, of course, but I was fairly certain it would be one of the French Channel ports.
Abey nodded to me pleasantly and said, “Let the rest of your crew know, will you?” Then he looked quickly at the blackboard fixed to the wall facing him and said, “Look, I think you’d better take Z-Zebra, Tony’s aircraft – he’s off to Buck House tomorrow to collect his gong from the King.”
Tony Payne wasn’t in the Flight Office at the time, I suppose he had been told by Abey that he wouldn’t be required in any case; an appointment with His Majesty would naturally take priority over anything. So it was lunchtime when we’d done our quite uneventful night flying test on ‘Z’, that I saw him in the Mess. Or rather, that he saw me, and made a bee-line for me.
“What’s this I hear, then?” he asked.
I grinned at him.
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“You mean about Z-Zebra?”
“Yes, I mean about Z-Zebra. My Z-Zebra. You’re not actually going to fly my kite, are you? On ops? God!”
There was a look of mock-horror on his face.
“Well, that’s what Abey said, so that’s what we’re doing. Don’t worry, Tony, we won’t bend it, or anything.”
“Bend it? You’d better not! If you so much as scratch the paint I shall deal with you all personally, one at a time, when you come back, you mark my words!”
We both knew he was kidding, but I knew, too, that ‘Z’ was the apple of Tony’s eye and that it had served him well. I hoped that it would serve as [sic] well, too.
Briefing was in the early afternoon. I cannot recall that there were many of us there, three crews at most is my recollection. The target was Cherbourg docks, time on target 2100 to 2130, bomb-load seven five hundred pounders, high explosive, route Base – Reading – Bognor Regis – target and return the same way. I felt nothing other than curious anticipation, once the time of take-off drew nearer. I think the thought that we were in ‘Z’ boosted my morale. Tony’s aircraft must be good, for he was good, the best. That followed; ‘Z’ wouldn’t let us down. The trip was going to be, if not the proverbial piece of cake, then quite O.K., quite straightforward, a nice one to start us off, of that I was confident.
It was a Saturday evening and dusk was falling as I went up to the Flights and opened my locker in Abey’s office. He was there, of course, looking quietly on at the small handful of us putting on our kit for the op. I started to struggle into my flying kit. Roll-necked sweater under my tunic, brown padded inner suit from neck to ankle, like a tightly fitting eiderdown, old school scarf, which, while I would never have admitted it, was my good-luck talisman. Pale green, slightly faded canvas outer flying suit with fur collar, wool-lined leather flying boots, parachute harness, Mae West and, lastly, ‘chute and helmet, which I carried. I checked that I had the issued silk handkerchief, printed very finely with a map of France, just in case, and I touched the reassuring small miniature compass,
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sewn into my brevet, another aid to evasion if forced to bale out.
I joined Ralph and the lads in the hangar. There was a continuous buzz of conversation, the odd burst of laughter. Ralph was smiling with rather forced cheerfulness, no doubt wondering how his new crew would cope. Col, our Aussie Observer, looked more sallow than usual and was chewing gum rapidly. His Australian twang, when he spoke, was more pronounced, it seemed to me. Mick, the wireless op., looked worried, as usual, and said nothing, while Tommy, our rear gunner, was completely unconcerned and grinning from ear to ear. Johnnie, who would occupy the front turret, was his calm and quite imperturbable self, almost, I realised, the complete antithesis of Tommy.
Ralph said quickly, “Let’s go, then,” and we strolled out of the chilly, pale blue lighting of the hangar into the darkness. We climbed awkwardly into the waiting crew-bus parked on the perimeter track. A half moon was beginning to show, flitting in and out of the scattered clouds which were drifting out to sea from off the Lincolnshire Wolds. It was cold, and despite my flying kit, I shivered a little. Col was still chewing stolidly, his face expressionless. There was a little desultory conversation as the bus rolled towards the dispersals, but the night’s op was not mentioned.
“Z-Zebra,” called the W.A.A.F. driver through the little window at the front of the bus. We started to clamber stiffly down the back steps, reluctant to leave the companionable shelter of the vehicle.
“Have a good trip!”
Someone from another crew shouted the conventional but oddly reassuring words, which were invariably used to send a crew on their way.
“You too,” one of us replied.
Z-Zebra loomed over us in the semi-darkness. The crew bus rumbled away. The silence was intense, almost tangible. The ground-crew stood around, blowing on their hands and beating their arms around their bodies against the cold. There were muted greetings. Col and I walked several yards away from the kite, lit cigarettes from my case and took a dozen or so quick draws before stamping them out.
“Come on, let’s get started,” I muttered, and we clambered up the red ladder which jutted down from Z’s nose. Johnnie was handing
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the pigeon in its ventilated box carefully up to Mick.
We struggled in, heavily and clumsily, each to his position. I hoisted myself over the main spar and stood in the astrodome, reaching down to plug in my intercom lead, and I found the hot-air hose, aiming it to blow on to my body once the engines had been started. The port engine suddenly stammered and roared into life, then the starboard. We heard Ralph blow twice into his mike to test the intercom, then he spoke.
“Everyone O.K? Harry?”
“O.K., skip,” I said.
“Col?”
“Yeah, skip.”
“Mick?”
O.K.”
“Johnnie?”
“O.K., skipper.” Johnnie was always punctilious and correct.
“Tommy? All right at the back there?”
“Yes, fine, skip.”
“Right, I’ll take it there and do the bombing run, Harry, you can bring us back.”
“O.K., skip,” I said.
Ralph’s mike clicked off. There was an increased roar from the port enging, [sic] shaking the whole kite, then from the starboard, as Ralph ran them up, checking the power, the magnetos, the oil pressure and the engine temperatures. The kite was shivering like a nervous racehorse at the starting gate, waiting for the off. A lull, then I felt a lurch as we moved slowly out of dispersal. The hangars, topped by their red obstruction lights, slid by, then we were at the end of the runway in use. Behind us I could see the nav. lights of the other aircraft which were to share the night sky with us over Cherbourg. A green Alldis light flashed directly on to us – dah, dah, di-di, - Z.
“You’ve got your green, skipper,” I said. We were on our way.
“O.K., here we go, hold on to your hats.”
Johnnie appeared alongside me and grinned rather wolfishly; the front
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gunner went into his turret only when we were safely airborne. Ralph opened up the throttles against the brakes to lift the tail a little. Z-Zebra jerked and strained, then suddenly we surged forward, the engines howling. The Drem lighting of the flarepath smudged past, faster and faster as we charged down the runway. The bar of lights with the two goose-neck flares at the far end slid towards us, then suddenly all vibration ceased; we were airborne, we were on our way.
Johnnie gave me the thumbs-up and vanished up front to go into his turret. In a few seconds he called up to say he was in position. I felt and heard Ralph throttling back to settle into the long climb to operational height; we would aim to be at 20,000 feet over the target. He began a turn to port to bring us back over the centre of the aerodrome to set course accurately for Reading.
The night was clear, some cloud showing vaguely out to sea, a blaze of stars everywhere, with the half moon as yet low on the port beam. There were several flashing red beacons to be seen, scattered over the dim landscape like lurid and sinister fireflies, but no-one bothered to read their Morse letters on the way out; coming home, it would be another matter, they would be looked for and read as eagerly as one used to read the familiar names on railway stations on the way back from a holiday. From the astrodome the mainplanes were pale in the faint moonlight, the exhaust stubs glowed redly. The rudder was a tall finger behind us, under which sat Tommy in his turret, a lonely place. I could see the guns rotating from side to side as he kept watch. There was little sensation of height or speed as the engines roared steadily under climbing power, the passage of time seemed suspended and there was a sense of complete detachment from the earth and from all things on it. Conversation was limited to the essential minimum.
Ralph came up, eventually, on the intercom.
“Oxygen on, please, Harry, ten thousand feet.”
I acknowledged, unplugged my intercom and left my position, going forward over the main spar to where just behind the Observer’s compartment the oxygen bottles were in racks up on the port side of the
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fuselage. I screwed open the valves on each one and returned to the astrodome.
“Oxygen on, skipper.”
I plugged in the bayonet fitting of my oxygen tube to the nearest socket and clipped the mask on my helmet securely to cover my nose and mouth. After a while, “Glow on the deck, dead ahead, skipper,” Johnnie said. I went forward quickly to stand beside Ralph.
“Looks like Reading,” I said, “they always did have a lousy blackout. See those two lines of lights? The railway station. Wouldn’t that slay you? I don’t know how they don’t get bombed to hell.”
“Useful for us, anyhow,” Ralph replied, “we’re dead on track and two minutes to E.T.A., too. Good for you, Col,” he called.
The faint glow of Reading vanished under the nose. The moon was a bit higher now. Col gave the new course for Bognor. I took a deep breath of oxygen and holding it in my lungs as long as I could, went back to the astrodome. Tommy spoke up, rather fractiously.
“Bloody cold back here.”
“Shut up a minute, Tommy,” I heard Mick say, “I’m listening out to Group.”
No-one spoke for a while. Then I caught a glimpse of a white flashing beacon to starboard. These were very useful; Observers kept a list of them coded with their actual Latitude and Longitude positions. I switched on my mike.
“Occult flashing R Robert about five miles to starboard, Col,” I said.
Then, “That’s peculiar,” I thought, “I didn’t hear my own voice saying that.”
I checked my intercom switch and repeated what I’d said. Still nothing. I moved over to the intercom point at the flarechute and plugged in. I blew into my mike – dead as mutton. Taking a gulp of oxygen I went forward to Col’s desk and banged him on the shoulder. He looked up in surprise. I undid his helmet and shouted in his ear.
“Is your intercom working?”
He thumbed the switch and I saw his lips moving. Then he shrugged his shoulders expressively.
“Bloody thing’s crook,” he shouted.
After another gulp of oxygen I went forward to yell in Ralph’s ear.
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“Intercom’s u/s!”
I saw Ralph check his mike, then he nodded, the corners of his mouth turned down ruefully.
“Not a sausage,” he shouted, “see if Mick can fix it.”
I pushed through the door into Mick’s compartment. He beat me to it.
“Intercom’s u/s, R/T, too.”
“See if you can fix it!”
Mick nodded.
I went forward again to Ralph, who had scribbled a note on a message pad.
‘If no joy in 15 min. we jettison and abort.’
Without the intercom we would be completely cut off from one another, an impossible situation. I settled into the second pilot’s position alongside Ralph, thinking that I might as well stay up front for a while. Ralph was writing something again, letting the trimmers fly the aircraft while he did so.
‘Tell the gunners,’ I read, and gave him the thumbs-up. More oxygen, then I ducked under the instrument panel, past the bomb-sight, treading gingerly on the bottom escape hatch, and quickly opened the front turret doors.
My God, I thought, it’s freezing cold in here.
Johnnie twisted himself round and looked at me questioningly.
“Intercom’s gone for a Burton,” I shouted, “we may have to scrub it.”
He raised his eyebrows and nodded.
Half way back down the fuselage I saw the rear turret doors opening and Tommy emerged, slightly red in the face.
“My bloody intercom’s u/s,” he shouted, looking aggrieved.
I told him the situation quickly and he went back into his turret. I bent over Mick, who was fiddling with the intricacies of the radio equipment.
“Any joy?” I shouted.
Mick grimaced and shook his head.
“Keep trying, Mick.”
When I went back to Ralph he leaned over and shouted, “If Mick can’t fix it by Bognor, we’ll jettison ten miles out to sea and go home.”
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I wrote a note for Col and passed it to him. I was already hoarse with shouting and tired from moving around the aircraft on scanty oxygen.
Still we climbed. Bognor was now below us, I could distinguish the shape of the south coast, the Isle of Wight. Col came forward and made book-opening movements of his hands to Ralph who nodded and selected the bomb-door switch to ‘open’. Col ducked down to the bombsight. I wondered idly whether there were any convoys below; even though the bombs would be dropped ‘safe’ they wouldn’t like five hundred pounds of solid metal from this height. There was a slight shudder as the bombs went. Col came back.
“Bloody waste,” he shouted.
Ralph nodded as he closed the bomb-doors.
He shouted to me, “We might as well get down lower where we can come off oxygen. Get a course from Col, will you?”
I did so and set it on the compass for Ralph, who did a wide turn to port, losing height steadily. The altimeter slowly unwound.
When we passed through ten thousand feet I turned off the bottles and went the rounds of the crew, telling each one we were on the way home. Their reactions were muted, impassive. Soon we were down to two thousand feet, droning over the dim November landscape. There were no beacons to be seen anywhere in this area. I stood alongside Ralph, wondering if I would get a chance to fly ‘Z’ soon, but perhaps he didn’t like the thought of passing messages himself; the journey from front turret to rear, for example, was a bit of an obstacle race.
Quite suddenly, I noticed that the starboard engine temperature was up. I tapped Ralph on the arm and pointed to it. He nodded slowly, we droned onwards. I looked out of my side window, through the arc of the propeller, mere inches away, at the starboard engine. Was it my imagination, or was there a whitish mist streaming back from it? Ralph had levelled off at a thousand feet. Col came in and handed him a note of E.TA. Reading. The starboard engine temperature was higher, and now the oil pressure was decidedly down, too.
We’ve got trouble, damn it, I thought, and I saw there was now
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no doubt at all about the trail of vapour from the engine.
“Looks like a glycol leak,” I told Ralph, who stared grimly ahead and nodded. Then he turned to me.
“Get Mick on the W/T to base, returning early, intercom and R/T u/s, glycol leak starboard engine.”
I gave him the thumbs-up, seized a message pad and wrote it down, then went aft and handed it to Mick, who was sitting glumly at his table. He looked at the note, raised his eyebrows and frowned, then started to tap out the message on the Morse key.
Up front again I saw that the vapour leak from the engine was now streaked with red, and angry looking sparks were flying back over the engine nacelle and the trailing edge of the mainplane. I nudged Ralph, who leaned over to look, then grimaced. Now, the engine temperature was very high and the oil pressure had slumped even further. Z-Zebra was in real trouble. As is the way in flying, events thereafter moved in a downward spiral from bad to desperate with sickening rapidity. A lick of flame spat out of the engine, over the starboard mainplane, then horrifyingly, like the tail of a rocket, the flame shot back towards the rear turret.
“Fire!” I yelled in Ralph’s ear.
I pressed the extinguisher button on the instrument panel. Ralph chopped the starboard throttle back and hauled the wheel over to counteract the lurch and swing. I looked at the flames which were now pouring out of the duff engine, over the cowling and the trailing edge of the mainplane. Suddenly Tommy appeared at my side.
“Hey! There’s a hell of a lot of sparks flying past my turret!”
“Yes, we’re on fire, but we’re trying to get it out,” I shouted back at him.
Tommy’s eyes opened wide when he saw the blazing engine.
“Jesus bloody Christ,” he said, in awe.
We were now below 1000 feet. Ralph had opened up the port engine to try to maintain height, but we were turning slowly to starboard the whole time. I thought about the best part of 375 gallons of petrol in the starboard wing-tank, then about the western edge of London and its balloon barrage, somewhere very close to us. We
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were in one hell of a mess, I thought, and it began to dawn on me that the situation could well kill us all. I tried not to think too hard about that. Ralph was wrestling with Z-Zebra, trying to keep it on some sort of a course, but it appeared to be useless.
“Poop off some reds,” he yelled, “and look out for a flarepath!”
I hurried aft.
“Put the I.F.F. on Stud 3,” I shouted to Mick, above the howl of the good engine, and nodding glumly, Mick switched to this distress frequency which would show up as a distinctively shaped trace on all ground radar sets. I quickly found some double-red Verey cartridges and got the signal pistol down from its fixture in the roof of the fuselage. I loaded the cartridges and shot them off one at a time.
“Can’t do much more now,” I said to myself, and hoped for the sight of a flarepath, a directing searchlight, or anything that would help us. I went forward again. We were still losing height and I realised that we were too low to bale out. But the fire had died down and I sighed with relief at that. The prop windmilled slowly and uselessly. I wished that Z-Zebra had been fitted with propeller feathering devices, but it was useless wishing thoughts like that. I peered intently at the starboard wing; there didn’t seem to be any fire there, thank God, otherwise we would simply blow up in mid-air and that would be that. Now, the immediate problem was how we were going to get back on to the ground in approximately one piece; there wasn’t a flarepath or a beacon to be seen anywhere.
I felt completely helpless and at the mercy of a capricious and malignant fate which I could do nothing to influence. It was like being in a paper bag going down a waterfall. Ralph’s face was grim as he struggled to keep straight and to maintain altitude. I heaved a length of wrapped elastic from my parachute stowage and tied the wheel fully over to the left, to take the load off Ralph a little. He nodded his thanks. Another length of elastic; I tied the rudder bar over to the geodetics. That was all I could do.
I looked out again. Still no sign of friendly lights and the treetops were looking damned close now. The port engine exhaust stubs were bright red due to the punishment the engine was taking and I knew it was just a matter of minutes before we hit something. I thought, “This is a hell of a shaky do.” Then, ahead, I saw an interruption in the dark skyline and I was puzzled as to what it
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could be. I took a glance as [sic] the A.S.I., just under 100 m.p.h., much too near stalling speed for comfort. I hardly dared look at the altimeter, it showed a mere 200 feet now. The curious, dim outlines on the skyline grew slowly larger as we staggered on. That was about it, Z-Zebra was simply staggering along and sinking through the air, almost on the point of stalling, when we would drop like a stone. I was holding the wheel over to port, helping Ralph all I could. Keep height and we lost speed; keep speed and we lost height. That was the quite hopeless situation.
The jagged skyline, which was now beginning to fill the windscreen, resolved itself horrifyingly, in the dim moonlight, into buildings. A town, and worst of all, a town with a tall, thick chimney, dead ahead.
“Jesus Christ,” I thought, “we’ve bloody well had it now, we’re going to hit that bloody chimney.”
100 feet on the altimeter. Now we were over the town, churning over the roofs at 90 miles an hour. The streets looked so close that I could have put out a hand to touch them. The chimney loomed nearer, the black roofs skated away behind us, apparently just below the floor of the fuselage. I thought of the people in those houses, cringing as they heard the hideous noise just above their heads, praying that the aircraft wouldn’t hit them in a cataclysm of bricks, rubble and blazing petrol. I was sweating as I frantically heaved at the wheel to try to help Ralph. His eyes were staring as though he were hypnotised by the sight of the chimney. With agonising slowness it slid towards us, slightly to starboard now, it seemed, then just beyond the starboard wingtip, a handful of yards away. I shut my eyes for a second, hardly daring to believe that we had missed it.
“Thank Christ for that!” I yelled at Ralph. We were over open fields again. Ralph shouted desperately, “I’ll have to put it down soon, get them into crash positions!”
I hurried to the front turret, collected Johnnie, who was as pleasant and imperturbable as though he was sitting in an armchair in the Mess. he would have had a grandstand view of the whole thing, up to now. Together, we grabbed Mick and Col. The three of them lay on the floor of the fuselage, hands clasped behind their necks.
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I hurried, stumbling, to the rear turret and wrenched open the doors.
“Crash landing, any minute now!” I yelled at Tommy. He would sit tight, his was the safest place in the kite in this situation. I almost envied him. I rushed forward again and took a final glance out of the windscreen. We were at treetop level. Then I went back to join Mick, Col and Johnnie. There was not enough room for me to lie down, so I stood sideways on, taking a firm grip on the geodetics, and hoped for the best.
Suddenly the port engine was throttled right back. This was it, I thought. A few seconds’ silence, which seemed like a month, then a tremendous impact. A cool smell of newly-torn earth filled the aircraft. I hear, unbelievably, a long burst of machine gun fire and could see red tracer flying ahead of us. I couldn’t think what was going on; surely we weren’t being shot at? The kite bucketed along, everything twisting and grinding, the deceleration fantastic. I could hardly stay upright. The smell of ploughed earth was beautiful, almost intoxicating. I hung on grimly, and after what seemed an age, we finally lurched to a halt. For an instant there was total, blissful silence.
“Everyone out, quick!” I shouted.
The three of them hurried forward where I could see Ralph’s legs vanishing through the escape hatch above the pilot’s seat. Tommy came staggering from the rear of the fuselage, clutching his forehead.
“You O.K.?” I asked him.
“Hit me bloody head on some broken sodding geodetics,” he said angrily.
“Hurry up and get out in case the bloody kite goes up,” I said urgently, and I pushed him forward, ahead of me. He climbed out of the top hatch via the pilot’s seat; I was hard on his heels. I could hear Johnnie telling someone, in his clear, modulated voice, that he had forgotten to put the safety-catch of his guns on to ‘safe’, the impact of the crash had set them firing. I hoped vaguely that no-one had been hurt. It was years later that I learned that one bullet had gone through a child’s bedroom window as her mother was putting her to bed; the bullet had embedded itself in the mattress without harming the little girl.
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I followed Tommy up and out. I was swinging my legs over the edge of the escape hatch, on to the top of Z-Zebra, when I saw a spurt of flame from the port engine. The strain had been too much for it.
“Port engine’s on fire!” I shouted to them, “get to hell out of it!”
I jumped back inside the cockpit, quickly found the port fire-extinguisher button and jabbed my thumb hard on it, swearing softly under my breath. Then I clambered out again, found the port mainplane under my feet and walked down it on to the field.
The aircraft looked like a landed whale, its props bent grotesquely backwards, its back dismally broken, with the rudder towering up at an odd angle, its wings now spread uselessly across the stubble and the broad rut which we had gouged out of the field trailing back towards the hedge, between some tall trees. The crew were grouped together twenty yards away.
“Come on, Harry!” someone shouted.
A man was running over the field towards us, I could see the steam of his panting breaths in the moonlight as he got nearer and heard him excitedly saying something about ‘the biggest field in the district’. The moon shone palely through the trees which we had missed and the air was sweet as wine. I lit a cigarette and joined the others.
“Are you O.K.?” Col asked. I nodded.
“Bloody fine landing, Ralph,” I said, “damn good show.”
We followed the man over the stubble, towards the broken hedge, then to an Auxiliary Fire Station on the outskirts of St. Albans, where we had come down.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
“Look,” Tony said confidentially, “you know I’ve got …… as my co-pilot?”
“Yes,” I said, wondering what was coming next.
“Well, between you and me, I’m really not all that happy with him. Would you like to come into my crew? I can fix it with Abey, if you would.”
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When I recovered from my astonishment it didn’t take me long to decide. I shook my head.
“No, thanks, Tony, no, really, I wouldn’t want to leave my own crew, you know.”
“Oh, well, I can quite understand that. I just thought - . But if you do change your mind, there’s a place for you with me, any time.”
I thanked him. I have never forgotten the honour he did me.
As I have said, Tony took the wrecking of Z-Zebra quite well, all things being considered. Shortly afterwards, he finished his tour. His crew were posted away, while he himself went on to some hush-hush flying, somewhere on Salisbury Plain, we heard, involving several different types of aircraft. It was something, we guessed, in connection with the development of radar and its applications. He paid us a visit once, in an Anson.
“I wanted to come up in a Walrus,” he said, naming a slow, noisy and out-of-date small flying-boat, “and throw out the anchor in front of the Watch Office!”
We had a jocular half hour with him in front of the ante-room fire.
Tony Payne came back to the Squadron for his second tour of ops. He took a new crew, on their first trip, on the Thousand Bomber raid on Cologne. His was the first aircraft to be shot down that night. He was hit by flak over Ijmuiden, on the Dutch Coast and the aircraft blew up over Badhoevedorp, on the outskirts of Amsterdam, killing him and the whole crew. They are buried together in a beautiful shady spot in Amsterdam East Cemetery, their graves lovingly kept and cared for. I have visited the place where they fell; I have seen the place where they now lie at peace. Most of the aircraft was salvaged recently by some caring Dutch people, and I have a fragment of it on my bookshelf, to remind me of the man that was Tony. Not that I need much reminding.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Rabbie [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] RABBIE [/underlined]
He was the sort of bloke one took to automatically if one was of a fairly quiet disposition, for he himself was quiet almost to the point of being self-effacing. On the ground, that is. But in the air – well, that was another matter. On the evidence that I had, at least, it seemed that another side of his nature took over.
In build, he was perhaps an inch or so taller than me, well made, with rather thick, limp, fairish hair, quite piercingly blue eyes and a mobile mouth which always carried the trace of a smile, as though he were laughing inwardly at some secret joke. His manner of speaking was strange until you got used to it; he would start a sentence then lower his eyes almost apologetically, as though he were afraid you were becoming bored with what he was saying. His voice was quite deep, very quiet, and his utterances were staccato, like short bursts of machine-gun fire, punctuated by little nervous laughs, almost sniggers. Now and again he would stammer slightly, and now and again a trace of his native soft Scots accent would ripple the surface of his halting, quietly spoken sentences.
It was I who first called him Rabbie, on account of this inflexion of voice, which, when he became animated, would show more prominently. I think he secretly rather liked the name; there weren’t many Scotsmen on the Squadron as far as I knew, and certainly, there weren’t many in ‘B’ Flight. We became friendly, and although on stand-down trips to G.Y., as we invariably called Grimsby, crews usually went as crews, on nights when we stayed in the Mess he and I, more often than not, would gravitate together, along with Eric. Possible because the three of us where a shade quieter types than, say, Tony or Teddy Bairstow.
I don’t know how it came about that I flew to Pershore with him – he had done his O.T.U. there, it seemed, and on a stand-down day he got permission from Abey to do a cross-country there. He must have asked me if I would like a ride; anyhow, I went along with him. He had his own co-pilot, Sandy, with him, and his crew. It was then I discovered the other side of Rabbie. I had only been on the Squadron a fortnight and everything was new and a bit strange.
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Rabbie and most of the others were comparatively old hands, and whereas I was a strictly-by-the-book pilot, I soon found that there were others who weren’t. Like that day, when I flew with Rabbie. One normally did cross-countries at a sober and sedate height, say between two and six thousand feet. Perhaps for a few minutes, now and again, one might have a crazy fit and beat up a train or something or other, but unauthorised low flying was a Court Martial offence, and all pilots had been repeatedly warned of that fact ever since they started flying at E.F.T.S.
We went off in Barred C, Abey’s own aircraft, and once we’d cleared the circuit, quite simply, it was a hundred feet maximum all the way. To begin with, I was shaken rigid, I’d never known anything quite like it; such sustained, hair-raising excitement, spiced with the occasional bad fright. Trees, villages, hills, hedges, they all streamed by; very little was said among the crew. When I’d collected my scattered wits and realised that this was second nature to all of them, I began to enjoy it a little more. We landed at Pershore, Rabbie said hello to one or two old friends, we lunched, took off again and came back at the same height, all the way. I was getting used to it by this time, but I still swallowed hard once or twice.
When we had landed and taxied in I came down the ladder after most of them. Rabbie and the crew were doing what we usually did then, taking off helmets, sorting out the navigation stuff, looking for some transport back to the Flights. As we lit cigarettes, and with his little secret smile, Rabbie said to me, “Enjoy it?”
“Rabbie,” I said to him, “excuse me for asking, but do you always do your cross-countries at nought feet?”
He gave his little sniggering laugh and looked down.
“Well, no,” he said softly, “but you have to let your hair down now and again.”
Some of it must have rubbed off on Sandy, too, except that he gave himself a bad fright. It really could have been quite a shaky do. Several of us were in ‘B’ Flight office one afternoon, doing nothing in particular. We had a couple of kites on, that night,
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but most of us had been stood down too late to go into G.Y. The phone rang and Abey answered it, his face, as usual, giving nothing away. He looked across at the blackboard as he listened and our eyes followed his, wondering.
“That’s right, E-Edward,” he said, and rang off.
The board said, ‘E’ – Sgt. Sanders – Local flying – airborne 1420.’
“We’d better go and see this,” Abey said calmly, straightening a few things on his desk, “Sandy may be in a bit of bother, it appears that he’s hit something south of here. He’s coming in now.”
We piled into the Flight van and hared out to dispersal. Just then, we saw ‘E’ land, quite a reasonable one, too. We breathed again. Then, as we waited, he taxied in and we could see that where the port half of his windscreen had been there was just a jagged hole. The air-intake on his port engine looked peculiar, too, it was half bunged up with something greyish. Sandy stopped in his dispersal and cut the engines. The ladder came down and he climbed down it a bit tentatively, looking decidedly sheepish when he saw the reception committee.
He and Abey talked rather quietly together while the crew climbed down and stood around, fiddling with their ‘chutes and navigation stuff, surreptitiously brushing what looked very like feathers from off themselves and trying to look unconcerned. Someone who had overheard the conversation muttered, “Been low-flying over the Wash and hit a bunch of seagulls.” We grinned at [sic] bit at that, once we knew they were all O.K. Abey’s poker face said nothing as he turned away from Sandy. Then someone nearby said, “Hey, Sandy, what’s wrong with your face?” and when we looked closely we could see a piece of pink seagull flesh sticking to his cheek. Sandy put a hand up to his face, then had a look at what he had collected. Slowly, his eyes rolled up, his knees buckled and he fell at our feet in a dead faint. Abey, good type that he was, hushed it all up.
Not long afterwards, a handful of our kites went as part of a smallish force to attack one of the north German ports. It might have been Emden. Rabbie was on it; I wasn’t. Next morning, after breakfast, Teddy put his head around the door of the ante-room, his eyes starting out of his thin, pale face.
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“Hey!” he exclaimed, “You want to have a look at Rabbie’s kite, he’s had a right shaky do!”
He tore off out, to tell someone else. Quickly, we made our way up to the Flights. ‘E’ was parked right outside ‘B’ Flight hangar, and most of the starboard mainplane out board of the engine just wasn’t there. The wing finished in a ragged, twisted jumble of geodetics. Obviously, they had had a very narrow escape indeed from a burst of flak. I climbed aboard. The wheel was tied over to port with a chunk of rope. I found Rabbie, poking idly about at this and that.
“Dodging the photographic bod,” he said with an apologetic grin. There was one of the photographic section erks outside now, fussing about with a camera, taking pictures of ‘E’. Rabbie looked paler than usual, thoughtful.
“How the hell did you manage to get it back like this?” I asked.
“Oh,” he said, with his nervous little snigger, “it wasn’t too b-bad, Sandy and I tied the wheel over a bit,” and nodded towards it.
The photo erk had gone and the sightseers had thinned out to two or three. I climbed out, chatting to Rabbie, but as we talked, I could see something different. There was something in his eyes that I’d never seen there before, a distant, almost other-worldly expression.
When I left the Squadron I lost touch with everyone, including, at times, myself. It was a long time afterwards, and I was talking to Eric on the telephone. We had reached the “Do you remember” and “What happened to” stage.
“By the way,” I asked him, “what ever happened to Rabbie?”
“Rabbie?” Eric replied, “Oh, I’m afraid he was shot down, you know.”
It had happened near the Dutch town of Beverwijk. Rabbie had finished up as a P.o.W with Eric and Abey, then had been repatriated on account of injuries to his hands, Eric said. Some of his crew had been killed.
In June 1989 a Dutch air-war historian took me to a beautifully-kept cemetery in the small town of Bergen, near Alkmaar, to visit the graves of a contemporary crew of ‘B’ Flight whom I had known.
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As I was turning to leave, my eye, quite by chance, noticed another name on a nearby tombstone, one which I immediately recognised, that of our Commanding Officer, who had gone missing while I was with the Squadron. Very near to him and to the others was yet another familiar name, that of Sandy.
Each name of all the aircrew, some 200 of them, who are buried there, is inscribed upon the bells of the local church, just across the way. One of the bells is perpetually silent, representing those who could not be identified. And one bell bears the inscription – “I sound for those who fell for freedom.”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Letter home [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] LETTER HOME [/underlined]
I wonder how many premonitions the average person has during his or her lifetime. It’s not the sort of topic which crops up very much in normal conversation, so I don’t think it can happen all that often. But when it does, and you believe you are being given a glimpse of the future, it can be quite weird and rather frightening. So far, I can recall three instances personally. One was at a very long interval of time, one was just the opposite, while the third - . That is what the letter home was about.
A week or two ago I was watching a debate from the House of Commons on television. There was a fairly sparse attendance, the subject became rather mundane and my attention, frankly, was beginning to wander. I looked along the green leather seats where the numerous absentees would normally have sat. Surely, I thought, surely seats like those had played some part in my life at some time?
Then I had it – they were the colour of the wooden-framed armchairs in the anteroom of the Mess at Binbrook. And I was immediately reminded of the first, and very strong, premonition I had had there, and was coping with, as I sat in one of those chairs, almost alone in the quiet room on that winter’s night, waiting to take off on a raid over Germany – and not expecting to come back.
Looking into my logbook now, I can narrow it down to one of four dates, but the actual date is of no importance. The premonition I had, though, was important, very important to me, very gradual, but extremely strong.
Abey, our Flight Commander in ‘B’ Flight was, in every sense of the word, a gentleman. He was then in charge of eight or ten crews of six men each which comprised ‘B’ Flight, and he had, among many other things, the responsibility of selecting crews under his command for any operations on any particular night, or day. Fortunately, the latter were scarce enough. Sometimes the choice was simple, if a maximum effort was called for by Command or Group, he simple sent everyone whose aircraft was serviceable. But sometimes
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he had to choose, and no-one envied him that, nor ever queried his choice. Querying things like that is something that happens in films, usually bad ones. If a “fresher” target was specified for the night’s operations then novice crews, who had done up to four of five ops were selected to go. If he had any choice at all, any crew due for leave went on leave, that same morning. He did his job well and fairly; he was a very considerate man.
On the day of which I write, our crew had done three trips, one of which had had an abrupt and near-catastrophic ending. A “fresher” was called for that night, so we were “on”, in S for Sugar. I have been wondering, recounting this, trying to remember what my reactions were during the time of an op, from the first knowledge that I was going, that night, to some unknown target, whose location and identity would not be known until briefing that afternoon, until the moment after one’s return, sitting down thankfully, tired and strained, into a chair, with a mug of coffee and rum in one hand and a cigarette in the other, for interrogation after the trip. When we would look around the room to see who was seated at the other tables with the Intelligence Officers, recounting their stories of the night’s experiences. However, although I readily confess that not a single trip went by when I was not to some extent frightened, quite often very frightened indeed, my first reaction on being told that I was among those who were on that night’s operations was one of intense excitement, of being immediately strung up to a very high pitch, reactions accelerated beyond their normal speed, like those of a sprinter on his starting blocks, alert for the sound of the pistol which will launch him on his rapid way.
We did our night flying test in S for Sugar as soon as we knew we were operating that night. It was winter, but not too bad a winter until then. This particular morning was cold and cloudy with a breeze from the south-west, the odd spot of rain in the wind, a typical winter’s morning in Lincolnshire, in fact. We flew around for a while to test that everything in the aircraft was working properly, except for the bomb-release mechanism and the guns. We weren’t bombed up yet, of course, and we would test the guns over the sea once we were on our way that night. I was still quite strung up with excitement
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and anticipation. None of us thought or said very much about the target, it was bound to be one of the French Channel ports, the docks, or course, and they were reckoned to be a piece of cake – straight in from the sea, open the bomb doors, press the tit and then home, James.
Briefing was at 1430 hours. By that time the weather wasn’t so good. The cloudbase was down, the wind was getting up and it was colder. At briefing there was ourselves and a handful of others. The target wasn’t one of the Channel ports, it was Wilhelmshaven, on the north German coast, not what we had expected, and quite a tough target. Weather prospects were moderate to fairly poor, with a front coming across which we would have to contend with, a risk of icing. It didn’t sound all that funny. But there it was.
The excitement of the morning had worn off and I was beginning to feel a bit deflated when I went back to the Mess after briefing. There was nothing to be done until teatime, and takeoff was fairly late, to catch the late moon. About five hours to kill. As I thought about it like that I realised that the expression could be taken more than one way, and I didn’t like one way very much. I went back to my room with the sense of deflation sliding quickly downwards towards a feeling of depressive foreboding. It was not as though the target was the toughest one in the book, tough enough by any standards, but no long stretch of enemy territory to be crossed there and back. Not exactly, as we had thought, the reasonably easy one we had expected, but not as bad as it might have been. Or so I tried to tell myself.
The foreboding grew inside me the longer I sat in my room. I was alone; Frank Coles, my room-mate, was Squadron Signals Leader and usually had things to do even when the rest of us were free. Out of the window I could see that the weather was steadily worsening, which added to my unease. I sat there, smoking, and trying to read. It was useless. I became more and more certain that this trip was the one I wasn’t coming back from, that we were going to be shot down. Once I had arrived at that realisation I found I was almost able to visualise it happening; I had already seen it happen to others nearby. But tonight it was going to happen to us, and that would be the end of me.
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There was nothing I could do about it; I had to go through with it, it had to be faced. The only practical thing I should now see to was to write a letter home, to my parents. The trouble was that I had very little idea what I wanted to say to them. For several reasons, I felt they hadn’t had the time to get to know very much about me, as an individual. But still, I felt I owed them this letter.
So I wrote to them. It was a very short letter, I remember, but its exact contents I cannot recall. I know I started in the conventional way – “by the time you read this you will know I have been reported missing,” and so on, and I know that after I had addressed the envelope I added, “To be forwarded only in the event of my failing to return from an operation.”
By the time I had stewed over this wretched little piece of writing it was teatime. There was still no sign of Frank. I was glad of some company in the Mess, although there weren’t all that many in, with only the freshers operating. So I had tea. It was usually a high tea if there were ops on. On this evening, as on many others, there were kippers, toast and tea. Surprisingly, I found I was very hungry. I think I was determined to enjoy what was going to be my last meal. So I savoured every morsel. As dusk fell I stretched myself out in front of the roaring fire in an armchair in the anteroom to await the time to go up to the Flights to get dressed for the trip. The armchair had wooden arms and sides with a green leather padded seat and back.
Every time the tannoy went with some commonplace announcement that someone was wanted at his Flight or Section I would jump a little and stiffen when the W.A.A.F. said, “Attention, please, attention, please,” and then slump down again when I heard that it wasn’t ops being scrubbed. There weren’t many people in the anteroom, and as the fireplace was at one end and I was very close to it, I couldn’t really see who was in the room with me. I was concentrating on absorbing, I think, every scrap of physical comfort I could from the heat of the fire, in what I now firmly believed to be the last few dwindling hours of my life. I could hear sleet or snow spitting as it dropped down the chimney on to the fire.
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I was seeing all sorts of strange pictures in the glowing coals. What they were I didn’t know, faces mostly, it seemed, but whose, I couldn’t distinguish. I started as one of the Mess waiters drew the big curtains across the blacked-out windows. Seeing me in battledress and roll-necked sweater and knowing that I was “on”, he gave me a half-smile as he piled some more coal on to the fire. The heat on my legs died as he did so.
“Is it still sleeting?” I asked him.
“Yes, sir,” he answered quietly, “still sleeting.”
Tactfully, he didn’t add “It’s a rotten night to be on ops,” or anything like that, but I knew that was what he was thinking. I nodded. He walked quietly away about his business and we left it at that. The wind was starting to get up quite a lot now. I could hear the slap of the sleet hitting the window like a wet cloth in the gusts. Surely they would scrub it? In an hour or so we were due to take off for Wilhelmshaven. I wondered what the weather was like over there, whether they were thinking that it was such a bad night that they were safe from R.A.F. raids. Then I thought about the letter. Was I being stupid? Was this all a lot of childish, hysterical nonsense, over-dramatising oneself? I still thought not; I was still convinced in my own mind.
Why did one write such things? I mused. It made no difference, really, to the outcome, someone would die, someone would be bereaved, that was all there was to it. I wondered how many people I knew actually wrote them, too. I suppose one reason for writing a last letter was to say a final goodbye to someone who was dear to one, but I think also it was to prove to oneself that one was ready and spiritually prepared to leave this life, to give up all those things regarded hitherto as important and to enter a new existence, to meet again one’s friends who were already there, like going from one room of a house to another via the dark passage which we call death. There was a Sergeant pilot in ‘B’ Flight, whom I knew quite well, Norman Spray. He left a letter for his mother. He went missing on a raid the following spring and his words of parting from his mother were so memorable that they found their way on to the page of a national newspaper which I happened to read. I am sure he was an exceptional person to have written in the way he did.
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The minutes ticked slowly by. Hypnotised by the heat from the fire and, I suppose, subconsciously withdrawing from what I believed were my final hours, I think I must have dozed for a few minutes. The tannoy announcement jerked me back to complete wakefulness. The W.A.A.F. said, “All night flying is cancelled, repeat, all night flying is cancelled.”
I immediately started to shiver uncontrollably, despite the fire’s heat. I moved my body around in the chair to try to stop the shakes, to try to hide them in case someone should see. I fidgeted around, stretched, blew my nose, then looked around the ante-room to see whether anyone was watching me. There were one or two ground staff Officers, and Teddy, Eric and Doug, the first two talking quietly over their beer, Doug reading a book, absently stroking his luxuriant ginger moustache with the back of his hand, an unconscious gesture which we all knew well. Outside, the wind moaned, the sleet was still tapping on the window, as though someone were asking quietly to be let in, perhaps like the messenger of Death itself. For not long afterwards, He would claim two of those three.
I took something of a grip on myself and pressed the bell at the side of the fireplace. When the steward came I ordered a beer. I could hardly believe this was happening. He was the man who had drawn the curtains earlier. He took my order, then hesitated and said, not looking directly at me, “You’ll not be sorry, sir, about the scrub, not on a night like this?”
“No, I’m not,” I said, “not on a night like this.”
The shakes had just about stopped by then. I went across to Eric and had a chat and another beer. Neither of us said much about the scrub, he hadn’t been on, anyhow, being in Abey’s crew. I certainly didn’t complain about it. Eventually I went up to my room and furtively tore up the letter into small pieces. I don’t think Frank noticed anything, if he guessed what I was doing he was too tactful to mention it. Then I undressed and got into bed. I was probably going to live for another twenty-four hours.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Low-level [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] LOW-LEVEL [/underlined]
By the third day, those of us who were in the know were getting a little twitchy.
When you are briefed no less than three days in a row for the same target, when you are told it is to be a low-level night attack, when you learn that the whole thing is so hush-hush that only pilots and Observers are to know what the target is until after you are airborne, you only need one scrub to make you jump a bit at loud noises.
After the second briefing, when there was another scrub, and the following day, when there was a third identical briefing, you could have almost cut slices of the tension out of the air with a knife. To begin with, nothing in that city had ever been bombed before. When we knew where it was to be, we looked at each other with eyebrows raised. For very good reasons, we had to go in low and make one hundred per cent certain that we were going to hit the target when the Observer pressed the bomb-release. If we were not certain, then, ‘dummy run’ and round again. No trouble in that, we were told, there were no defences worth speaking of, only a couple of light flak guns at the airport some distance away. Just avoid that, and we shouldn’t have any bother.
So we were told at the briefings, all three of them. Did we believe it could possibly be true? We made ourselves believe it, I think, but it took some doing. Weren’t we used to the Channel Ports, to Kiel, to Essen and the Ruhr, where, in all conscience it was deadly enough at twenty thousand feet at night, let alone at – what was to be our bombing height? – two thousand five hundred feet, straight and level down a corridor of flares?
We would have liked to believe it, certainly. It sounded so – different, so well organised. 235 aircraft, which to us was one hell of a lot, including some Manchesters and four-engined Stirlings and Halifaxes. The first wave was going to drop flares, and keep dropping them so that the whole place would be well lit up, and once
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they'd done that and let go some incendiaries and cookies to start the ball rolling, then the second wave, which was us, would come in and stoke the place up with high explosive, as low as the safety height, 1,000 feet per 1,000 pounds of the heaviest bomb, permitted. If there hadn’t been some Manchesters carrying 2,000 pounders, in our wave, we would have been down around 1,000 feet, I suppose.
What was going through the minds of Mick, our wireless op. in S-Sugar, and Johnnie and Bill, the gunners, being completely in the dark as to what it was all about, I could only guess. But they accepted the situation stoically, and never asked one question. Except when we were clambering out of the transport at dispersal, really on our way, on the third evening, then Mick, who was a married man, said quietly to Cookie, “Is this a suicide effort, skip?” I believe he was recalling those two posthumous V.C.s our Squadron had won less then [sic] two years before, when we had lost five out of five Fairey Battles trying to stop the German advance through the Low Countries. Anyhow, Cookie shook his head.
“No, Mick, it’s not a suicide effort, at least not if I can help it!”
I’m afraid I couldn’t resist mischievously chipping in then, just as we were sorting ourselves out in the dusk of that early March evening under the shadow of S-Sugar’s nose in the quietness of our dispersal.
“You won’t be needing your oxygen mask, though,” I said.
Mick’s eyes widened. It was a bit cruel of me.
“You’re kidding, Harry, aren’t you?”
“No, pukka gen,” I laughed.
“Oh, bloody hell,” Mick said, his Brummy accent very pronounced.
Col, our Aussie Observer, came to the rescue.
“Don’t let it worry yer, Mick,” he said, “it’s going to be a piece of cake. Or so they say, anyhow.”
I was hoping this didn’t fall into the category of famous last words, as we climbed aboard. I found I was yawning quite a lot, while a muscle in my back was trying to do something all on its own.
We took up our positions in the kite. As co-pilot, mine was in the Wimpy’s astrodome until Cookie wanted me to fly it, or needed
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a hand with something up front. I checked the intercom point, saw we had a flare handy in case we had to do a bit of target-finding ourselves, and I groaned inwardly when I saw the stack of nickels, as our propaganda leaflets were known, which I was going to have to shove out over northern France. I took one out of the nearest bundle and saw a cartoon of a depraved and vicious-looking S.S. man, headed, ‘Personalité de l’ordre nouveau.’ I hoped I didn’t meet him later that night in some French gaol.
Faintly through my helmet I heard someone shout “Contact port!” and the engine shuddered into life with a roar, bluish flames spitting out of the exhausts. Then that tune, which remained obsessively with me throughout that night, and which, ever since, has evoked such vivid memories of it, started going through my head – ‘The last time I saw Paris’. Now we were rumbling around the perimeter track. The black shapes of the hangars, topped by their red obstruction lights, came and went. A little group of four or five W.A.A.F.s near the end of the runway waved to us as we passed them. A dazzling green light flashed three dots, our aircraft letter, at us, Cookie opened the throttles and the tail lifted. Then we were charging down the runway, the Drem lighting whipping past the wingtips as the Merlins’ roar rose to a howl at full throttle.
When we had turned on to the course for Reading, our first pinpoint, Cookie checked that everyone was O.K. Then he said, calmly over the intercom, “Now I can tell you where we’re going. It’s the Renault factory in Paris and it’s a low-level do, two to three thousand feet, and there’ll be bags of flares so we can bomb spot on.” There was stunned silence, then Johnnie said coolly, “Paris? That sounds like fun.”
The tension was released and we all laughed immoderately. Cookie told them about the lack of defences, how the crossing-in point had been carefully chosen at the mouth of the Somme, near Abbeville, and how we had to be very sure not to drop anything outside the target area, in case of casualties to the French population.
“I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower,” Mick said.
From the rear turret Bill, our Canadian gunner, drawled, “Don’t worry, at our height you’ll be able to count the bloody rivets!”
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The evening was clear as our home beacon slowly fell away behind us. It seemed strange to be cruising easily along at about five thousand feet; usually we climbed steadily all the way to whichever target we were bound for. There wasn’t much talk over the intercom, I think the boys were busy digesting the news about the target – and the bombing height. Then the moon came up, huge, brilliant and impersonal, a beautiful sight, away to port. Reading was, as always, easy to find, the railway station was like a dimly-lit flarepath, but it gave us a good pinpoint, however much it might have helped the Luftwaffe. We crossed the south coast dead on track and E.T.A. and headed out over the Channel. Cookie switched off the navigation lights. Shortly afterwards, Mick reported that he had switched off the I.F.F. We were on our own now.
In only a few minutes it seemed, Johnnie said, “Enemy coast ahead, skipper.” I peered forward from the astrodome. The pewter colour of the Channel showed a faint line of dirty white a few miles ahead of us. A few degrees to starboard some light flak was going up, and I reported it for Col to log.
“Probably Le Tréport”, I said, “they always put on a firework display for us.”
Johnnie said, “I can see a big estuary dead ahead.”
“O.K., Johnnie,” Col replied, “let’s know when we cross the coast. Next course one seven two magnetic, skip.”
Then Johnnie said calmly, “Anyone see an exhaust almost dead ahead, same height?”
I hurried forward to stand beside Cookie, and we both saw it at once, a point of orange light, straight ahead of us, and nastily at our own height.
“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Cookie said, “I don’t want to be formating [sic] on a goddam 109.”
“Nickels due out in five minutes, Harry,” Col told me.
“O.K., Col, thanks,”
I went aft again, to the flare chute. I heard Cookie say, “That fighter’s still going our way, we must be bloody close to him. I’m going to alter course a bit to try to lose him, then fly parallel to our proper track. Turning ten degrees starboard now, Col.”
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In the darkness of the fuselage I unlocked and extended the flare chute and started pushing the bundles of leaflets out. Once free of the aircraft the slipstream would release each bundle from its elastic band and spread them all over the countryside below. In a little while I heard Cookie say, “That bloody fighter’s still there, damn him to hell.”
Johnnie said, “We’re catching him up a bit, too, skipper.”
“That’s bloody impossible,” Cookie exclaimed angrily. He sounded rather exasperated.
I finished the nickelling, stuffed a couple into my pockets for souvenirs, brought the flare chute in and went forward again, past Mick, who gave me a thumbs-up, and Col. Johnnie had been quite right, that glowing point of red light was definitely larger now. The countryside under the rising moon was a leaden blur, now and again shot with a vein of silver as the moonlight reflected off a river.
“How long to the target, Col?” Cookie asked.
“E.T.A. eighteen minutes.”
The light was really getting quite a bit bigger now and we were still heading straight towards it. Suddenly, it all became clear to me.
“Hey, Cookie!” I exclaimed, “that’s no fighter exhaust, it’s the bloody target!”
There was a moment’s silence, then, “Jesus!” Cookie said in awe, “You could be right, Harry, you could just be right, at that. Check our course, Col, one seven two magnetic, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, that’s it skip, one seven two.”
Now we could see it. It was a fire on the ground, like a huge, glowing ember alone in the darkness. I went back to the astrodome. A pinpoint of white light hung above the glow, like a star, then a second, a third, a fourth. The flares were going down, dropped by the markers, for us. Cookie called out, “O.K., fellers, this looks like it, but we want to be good and sure where we bomb.” As we flew towards the blaze Johnnie said, “I can see the Seine, the fire’s right on it.”
Col said, “Part of the works is on a sort of banana-shaped island
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in the river, we’ve got to fly slap over it.”
We could see almost a dozen flares now, brilliant, whitish-yellow, and trailing rope-like white smoke as they slowly sank towards the ground, suspended from their parachutes. I could dimly see buildings below us. Cookie was turning S-Sugar gently to come in from the south-west; all the action was now on our port beam, then on our port bow.
Suddenly, away to starboard, two light flak guns pumped a few rounds of coloured tracer upwards, but there could have been no aircraft anywhere near them.
“Light flak away to starboard, skip,” I said, “only a few rounds, I think they’ve gone down to the stores to get some more ammo.”
“Just keep an eye on it, Harry.”
I was humming the words of that song to myself,
“The last time I saw Paris,
I saw her in the Spring….”
We were heading straight in now, flares on either side of our nose. The ground was almost invisible against the glare ahead from the fire and the lines of flares hanging in the sky. Col said, “Coming forward, skip.”
A few more rounds of tracer hosed up, away to starboard, but I didn’t even bother to report it. The lack of opposition near at hand was quite uncanny; we certainly weren’t used to this sort of thing. I was searching the sky for fighters, tracer, heavy flak-bursts, but there was nothing. Just the flares, dozens of them now. We were right among them, flying straight and level down a well-lit avenue.
I saw a dim shape loom up, dead ahead, growing rapidly and menacingly larger every second.
“Turn port, skip, quick!” I shouted.
Cookie yanked her nose round. A Hampden, bomb-doors open, hurtled past us on a reciprocal course, obviously completely disobeying briefing instructions as to the direction of the bombing run. He was almost close enough to read his identification letters.
“The stupid bastard,” said Cookie, “what the hell’s he doing?”
“Bomb doors open, skip,” Col said tightly.
“Bomb doors open, Col!”
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The inferno had vanished under our nose. There was a long silence while Col directed our track up to the target. I peered down, but I could only see a jumble of city buildings; I was trying to find the Arc de Triomphe.
“I’ve got that island coming up,” Col said, his excitement showing in his voice, “left, left, steady, right a bit, steady, steady – bombs gone!”
I felt the rumbling jolt as we dropped our load on the Renault factory.
“Bomb doors closed,” Cookie called.
“Oh, bloody marvellous!” Bill almost shouted from the rear turret, “spot on, Col, you got the first one bang on the island and the rest of the stick went right across the factory, I saw them bursting!”
Some distance ahead there was a sudden flash from the ground, a yellowish fire which turned redder and spread out, in a bend of the Seine.
“Some poor sod’s bought it, about one o’clock, five miles,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Cookie, I can see it. Don’t know what the hell he was doing up there.”
I looked back at the target, now a sea of flame beneath the brilliance of the unearthly light of the flares and the moon. A sudden eruption of flame shot up from the factory as I watched.
“Christ! Did you see that?” Bill called, “someone’s hit a goddam petrol tank or something.” We learned later that one of our Flight Commanders, Squadron Leader Jackson, had scored a direct hit on a large gas holder; it was that we had seen.
But the other fire, the burning kite on the ground in the bend of the river, drew our eyes to it as I took over the controls from Cookie.
“Poor sods,” Johnnie said quietly, “I hope they got out of it.”
We droned on over northern France, heading for Abbeville and home. But the excitements of the evening were not over yet. Half way to the French coast Johnnie reported a light flashing from the ground, to starboard of our track. I looked across between the nose and the mainplane and saw it, a square of yellow light, bravely flashing
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di-di-di-dah, “V for Victory”. Col came up to look.
“Good on yer, mate,” he said laconically. Those people down there in Beauvais were risking their lives by signalling to us their appreciation and encouragement, and I felt a strong bond had been forged between them, whoever they were, and us, in S-Sugar.
We flew on towards the mouth of the Somme. Bill said he could still see the target burning, many miles behind us now, and we were riding on the crest of a wave at the obvious success of the attack. We’d never known anything like it before and we hoped we would know many like it again. And as the Renault factory burned in Paris and the V’s flashed out from Beauvais I became aware that perhaps, after many disappointments, we were now beginning to win.
There was much elation as we flew homewards in “S”. We were a cheerful and buoyant crew, that night of all nights. I never dreamed that five short weeks hence I alone, of the six of us in the crew, would be the only one left alive.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] A boxful of broken china [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] A BOXFUL OF BROKEN CHINA [/underlined]
It had happened to Abey’s crew already (although I was not to know this until some years later), and no doubt it had happened to others whom I had known.
It was a common enough occurrence in those days, when we had simply to rely upon dead reckoning navigation with a bit of astro thrown in – there was nothing else to rely on, then – that at one time or another you would stray off track, fly unwittingly over a defended area, and get thoroughly well shot at. I use the words ‘thoroughly well’ advisedly, in the full knowledge that I shall be treading on many corns when I say that the German flak and searchlights left our own standing at the post when it came to accuracy and effectiveness. On several nights while at Binbrook, after our own air-raid sirens had sounded, we would troop out of the Mess to watch the progress of a raid on Hull and, so to speak, compare notes on the Luftwaffe’s reception with what we received, over Germany. We were all left in no doubt as to which target we would have chosen to be over, and would retire to the anteroom when the all-clear sounded, shaking our heads sadly and making rueful and derisive comments concerning the lack of effectiveness of our ack-ack gunners and searchlight crews compared to their German counterparts.
There were well-known hot spots over the other side, places whose names sent a slight chill up one’s spine when they were mentioned. Places such as Essen, or anywhere in the Ruhr, if it came to that, Hamburg, Heligoland, Sylt or Kiel. The list was a long one and the toll taken by those guns of unwitting tresspassers [sic] over their territory was heavy.
But no such reputation attached itself to a town called Lübeck, which we, among 2345 aircraft, were to attack one night late in March 1942.
“Lübeck?” we whispered to one another at briefing that day, “Lübeck? Never heard of it.”
We had it pointed out to us by our Intelligence Officer at the briefing, a bit beyond Kiel, a bit beyond Hamburg and between the two, almost on the Baltic coast. The defences, we were told, were
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believed to be negligible. Oh, yes? Well, we’d heard that about the Renault factory in Paris and that turned out to be true, so why shouldn’t this one be the same? Our confidence was very high after that Renault attack and this one was beginning to sound quite good. It was going to be largely a fire-raising raid. There were a lot of wooden buildings in the town, apparently. This really was beginning to sound very interesting, the chance to do to a German city what they had done on fifty-odd nights in succession to London. However, we were to carry an all-high explosive load in S for Sugar. We were warned, of course, of the proximity to our route of the defences, which we all knew about, of Kiel and Hamburg, but no-one really needed telling about those. We had experienced the Kiel defences twice before recently, once when 64 of us Wellingtons of 1 Group had put the battle-cruiser Gneisenau out of action for the rest of the war. I often wonder which of us it was that hit it, for I remember seeing some quite big explosions that night.
So, as far as the trip to Lübeck was concerned our crew, at least, were in a fairly happy mood. Looking back, I am sure that on that night, while not one of the six of us would have admitted it for fear of tempting whatever fates might be looking down upon us, we were each secretly thinking that this trip, this particular, and possibly only trip we would do, was going to go some way towards approaching the proverbial ‘piece of cake’. One could describe a trip in those terms while drinking, in a post-operational flood of euphoria, one’s mug of rum-laced coffee, waiting for interrogation, bacon and egg, and then bed, but no-one ever had the temerity to voice those words about any target before take-off. Not at any price. Fate was not there to be tempted in such a careless and impertinent manner.
The buoyant mood of the crew of S for Sugar was not in any way diminished when we gathered in B Flight hangar, all kitted up and ready – almost eager – to go. Mick, Johnnie and Col were standing near the crewroom door, looking amused about something, and with a fairly large cardboard carton half-hidden by their flying-booted legs. They had obviously said something to Cookie, now commissioned and doing his first op. as a P/O, for he was showing a lot of very white teeth in his amusement.
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“What’s going on?” I asked, puzzled. Such levity was very unusual before an op., we were invariably rather silent and very tense. Mick nodded towards the box.
“Present for the Jerries, from the Sergeants’ Mess,” he said in his Brummy accent, a broad grin splitting his face.
“What the hell have you got there?” I asked.
“Boxful of broken china,” Col said, “we’re going to chuck it out over the target. It’s all got the R.A.F. crest on, too.”
“Christ, you’re a mad lot of so-and-so’s,” I said through my laughter. Had I known it, I wasn’t going to laugh again for some time after that.
Recalling it now, although I cannot obviously tell where or how the navigation went wrong, it must have done so, somewhere along the line. Perhaps the reason was simply plain fatigue which led to our being off track and flying into trouble. Fatigue which, even as young, fit men, was inevitable when one realises that while the Lübeck raid took place on 28th March, this was our third operation in four nights. It almost alarms me now, to think of it as I write. We had taken off late on the evening of the 25th, the target being Essen, never any picnic. We had bombed what we believed to be Essen, but we had seen, remarked upon among ourselves at the time, and reported at our interrogation, that many aircraft seemed to be bombing much too far west, at Duisburg, we believed. But there were those among the Squadron aircrews who laughingly insisted that we had bombed too far east, perhaps Bochum, or even Dortmund. We still didn’t think so; we believed we had been in the right place and that the main force of the attack had hit Duisburg.
Apparently ‘Butch’ Harris thought so too, for after a few hours’ sleep we were awakened, fully awakened, with the news that ops were on again that night, the 26th. At briefing we learned the target. Essen again, time on target before midnight. It was a sticky trip, and we lost two of our crews, making three lost in the two nights. I have often wondered how many ex-aircrew are alive today who can say, “I was twice over Essen within twenty-four hours, and live to tell the tale.”
So, after the double attack on Essen, twenty-four hours’ rest
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and we were off to Lübeck, the piece-of-cake target compared to Essen, the wooden town which would burn like Hell itself. Provided we got there to see it, which, in the event, we didn’t.
It seemed that no sooner had we crossed the enemy coast, somewhere in Schleswig-Holstein, that a huge, bluish searchlight suddenly snapped on, and pinned us as surely as a dart hitting the bullseye. And not only one, but about a dozen followed. Then the flak started. Cookie was flying S for Sugar, I was in the astrodome. What use I was I don’t really know, except to try to see if there were any fighters about to attack us. Which was ridiculous, with all the flak they were throwing up at us. In any case, I couldn’t see a thing for the dazzling and horrifying glare of all those lights.
Cookie threw the Wellington about as though it were a Spitfire. The sensation was like that of being on a high-speed roller-coaster which had gone mad. And all the time, the intense, bluish flood of light which lit up the interior of the fuselage like day and the thumping of the flak-bursts around us. We had the sky all to ourselves, and, it seemed, all the defences of northern Germany were telling us that this time we weren’t going to make it back home. I was hanging on to whatever I could to stay standing upright in the astrodome, striving to see beyond the lights, to see whether there was a gap anywhere which Cookie could aim for. One second I would be pressed down on to the floor as he pulled out of a steep dive, the next, I would be hanging in mid-air, fighting against the negative ‘g’ and clutching wildly at the geodetics as he topped a climbing turn then put S for Sugar into another screaming dive. We carried one flare, heavy and cylindrical, four of five feet long. This suddenly left its stowage with the violent manoeuvres and hit me flush in the chest, almost knocking me to the floor. I managed to grab it before it damaged the aircraft and somehow secured it again.
I was, of course, frightened, but not uncontrollably so. As the shellbursts thudded around us my fear was climbing steadily, like the mercury in a thermometer on a hot day. I felt I was useless in the astrodome and longed to be doing something active. Quickly I unplugged my intercom and oxygen and clawed my way forward, to see if I could do anything to help Cookie, perhaps to take over
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if he was hit. Col was sitting with both hands clutching at the navigation table, looking rather sick and staring straight ahead of him, while Mick was fiddling with his radio, doing goodness knows what, I thought. I reached the cockpit, where Cookie was wrestling with the controls, his face shiny with sweat, his jaw tightly clamped. He glanced down at me as I plugged in my intercom. Dive, turn, climb, turn, dive – we were corkscrewing all over the sky, losing height all the time. Then Cookie snapped on his intercom switch.
“Col, get rid of the bloody bombs.”
Col came forward, his face looking ashen in the awesome light. A few seconds later I felt the bombs go with a thud. I thought, “I hope they kill somebody, destroy something down there, after what they’re doing to us.”
My fear had now risen to such a pitch it amounted almost to ecstasy.
“Get your chutes on everybody,” Cookie half-shouted over the intercom, “stand by to bale out.”
I obeyed, gladly, and wrenched open the escape hatch near to where I was standing. As I did so, a hole appeared in the aircraft’s fabric skin at my side and I wondered how much damage we had taken. It seemed it was merely a question of a second or two before we were hit and blown to pieces or set on fire, before I and the rest of the lads were torn apart by an exploding shell. They could not go on missing us for ever. I was impatient for the order to bale out; I felt I had had enough of this experience. At the same time I felt a deep sadness that I might be going to die without having led a complete life, a life in which I had not experienced many things. I had never known the love of a woman; I had never even had a steady girl friend.
Through the open escape hatch I could see the earth, a huge forest, stretching away under the moonlight. Still the lights and the flakbursts hammering at us, the smell of cordite. At that moment I came to accept that I was going to die, and at the same time, I now realise that I lost altogether, and for ever, the fear of death. Not the fear of pain, of great pain, which I still possess, but the fear of dying, of the flight into the unknown world of
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the hereafter. I am convinced that in those seconds, a corner of the veil was lifted and I was granted a glimpse of the boundless quietude of eternity. A great and mysterious calm flooded over me, enfolded me in a sensation of complete and deep peace. I now understand what the prayer means when it speaks of ‘the peace which passeth all understanding’. I could not then and cannot now understand it, but I am certain that at that moment, when I felt I was standing poised on the brink of death, the Almighty reached out His hand to me and I responded and touched it with mine. The memory of the incredible sensation of smoothly passing, as it were, through the fear barrier to another dimension, one of all-embracing calm, is one which has remained with me all my life.
Then suddenly it was quiet. Utter quiet – and darkness. We were through it, we had got away. There was the forest below us, and a stretch of water. The Baltic? It could only be. Cookie was almost drooping over the controls now, physically spent, nearly, I knew, at the point of exhaustion. He had saved all our lives.
“Take over, Harry, for Christ’s sake,” he said, and almost dropped out of the left-hand seat. I climbed quickly up into it and took the controls. Someone slammed shut the escape hatch and I inhaled deeply, very, very deeply, hardly able to believe we were still alive, still flying.
We were at a mere 2,0000 feet. Cautiously but quickly I tested the controls for movement and response. Satisfactory. Almost incredible, I thought.
“Col, where d’you reckon we are?” I asked.
“I know where we’ve been, right enough, Harry,” he said, “slap over Kiel.”
“Look, then, I think we’re a bit east or south-east of it now,” I told him, “I’ll steer three-one-five for the time being if you’ll give me a course to take us to that big point of land on the Danish North Sea Coast – you know the one I mean? Near Esbjerg?”
He knew it. He gave me the course and I started to climb; the more height we had, the better for us, in case of further trouble. We had lost thirteen thousand feet in all that evasive action but we needed to get at least some of it back. I had everyone make a check around the aircraft, but apart from a few minor holes we were intact, and there were no injuries of any sort. It seemed
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unbelievable that we could have survived the pounding we had taken with such negligible damage.
In the brilliant moonlight I saw the Danish coast creeping towards us, with the glint of the welcoming North Sea beyond. Esbjerg harbour was sliding beneath our nose; about eight ships were anchored there – and we hadn’t one single bomb left for them. I cursed aloud; they would have been sitting ducks for us. Not a shot was fired at us as I dived S for Sugar gently out to sea.
On the way back I discussed with Col where he thought we had been caught at first; he reckoned we had been trapped over Flensburg and then handed on, from cone to cone of searchlights until we were firmly into the Kiel defences, like a fly in a spider’s web. I was sure his assessment was correct as we had arrived over Esbjerg exactly as we had planned. I settled down to the long, thoughtful flight home. As usual, there was almost complete silence all the way. I am certain that there was not one among us who was not offering up a silent prayer of thanks.
After we had landed, switched off the engines and climbed stiffly down the ladder, we gathered in a group to congratulate Cookie. He was quite matter-of-fact about his marvellous effort. Then Mick said, in that edgy voice of his, “But listen here, Cookie, we used to have decent trips when you were a Sergeant, I hope all your trips as a P/O aren’t going to be like this one.”
He little knew that two short weeks and three trips later, he, Cookie and the rest of them, apart from me, would be dead, in unknown graves.
Then, inconsequentially, I remembered something.
“Hey! What happened to that boxful of china?” I asked.
The tension was easing.
“Oh, that?” Col said, “don’t worry, Harry, we’ll drop it on the blighters on our next trip, get our own back for tonight. Anyhow,” he added, “I’ll bet it’s the first time Kiel’s been dive-bombed by a single kite!”
I recall, with crystal clarity, waling down to interrogation. Col and I were together, he on my right, the others a few paces behind
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us. The moonlight was intensely bright and the hangars and the buildings of the Station stood out sharp and grey under its flood of cold light. There was not another soul to be seen and there was only the sound of our footsteps on the roads which led down from the hangars to the Headquarters buildings. I felt that I did not want to speak now, I did not want to break the spell of the feeling of that great “peace, from the wild heart of clamour” which was pervading my whole being, enfolding me in the purity of its white light, like that of the moon, shining down from God’s heaven on those whom he had spared that night, the night of the Lübeck raid.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] The end of Harry [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] THE END OF HARRY [/underlined]
“And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept: and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!”
II Samuel 18, v.33.
“Crews were given a forecast of clear weather over Essen but cloud was met instead. The bombing force became scattered and suffered heavily from the Ruhr Flak defences….. 7 Wellingtons, 5 Hampdens, 1 Halifax, 1 Manchester lost ….”
Martin Middlebrook and Chris Everitt,
The Bomber Command War Diaries.
I open my log-book to refresh my memory of that trip. The entry lies there in red ink, under my fingers, as clear as the day on which it was written, as is now my recollection of the night, which comes flooding back to me.
The date. We were in M for Mother. “Operations, Cologne. Diesel engine factory attacked with 4000 lb. bomb. Moderate heavy flak and searchlights in area, mostly on west side of town. Good weather.” A pencilled note, “263 aircraft in attack; 179 Wellingtons, 44 Hampdens, 11 Manchesters, 29 Stirlings. A new record for a force to a single target. 4 Wellingtons and 1 Hampden lost.” We got off lightly that night. Sometimes, like one we did to Essen, it was ten per cent. It was the last night I ever flew as one of Cookie’s crew.
We approached Bonn from the north-west at about twenty thousand feet, into the brilliant light of the moon, dead ahead. The sight was fantastic, beyond all imagining. We were just off the edge of a solid sheet of strato-cumulus at about ten thousand feet, stretching as far south and east as the eye could see, lit brilliantly white by the moon, and with its north edge, nearest us, as well-defined as the edge of an immense shelf. Out of this layer there towered
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a huge cumulo-nimbus, rearing up, its north side jet black, like a gigantic tombstone, to about 15 or 16 thousand feet and casting a tremendous shadow over the Rhineland. To the north of this cloud-shelf it was crystal-clear, hundreds of stars shone brightly and the Rhine writhed and gleamed like a thread of silver below us. We turned north, to track along it, the fifteen or so miles to Cologne.
We could see it ahead. There were six or eight searchlight cones, with a dozen to twenty lights in each, probing, leaning, searching the sky for a victim to pin like a sliver moth in the beams. Every now and again the cones would re-form to close the inviting gaps between them. Each cone would split in half, the lights from one half leaning one way, and the other half the other way, to join the neighbouring cones, which performed the same manoeuvre, to form new cones. It was hideously fascinating, almost hypnotic, to watch. There would seem to be no way through. The dozens of red flashes of the flakbursts, seen distantly, grew larger and more menacing as we approached. Light flak was hosing up, strings of red, green, orange and white, and below everything, the fires, three or four smallish ones, growing larger all the time. Big, bright, slow flashes as cookies exploded among the flames. We were tensed up as we carried ours in. M-Mother had been specially modified to carry the two-ton bomb which protruded some way below the belly of the kite, the bomb-doors of which had been removed. A single hit from a piece of shrapnel on the cookie’s thin, exposed casing and – the mind shied away from it.
So we felt naked with this inches beneath us as we edged through the searchlights, to the right of the Rhine, weaving constantly through the flak, which we could hear, thumping around us over the roar of the engines. We could see it flashing close to us on all sides. In our imaginations the cookie was growing in size; they could hardly miss it, I thought. More fires started below, a stick of bombs rippled redly across the darkened city, then another. Some incendiaries went down in a yellow splash. Or was it an aircraft going in? Still, the slow, bright flashes of the cookies going down on to Cologne. Col went forward. We could hear his harsh breathing over the intercom as he directed us into the bombing run, guiding M-Mother so that the target slid down between the wires of the bomb-sight.
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“Bomb gone!”
The kite thumped upwards as the cookie left us on its journey of destruction. A tight turn to starboard and we were heading back the way we had come, towards the surrealist cloudscape, the enormous, abrupt shelf with the grotesque tower looming up out of it.
On the way back Cookie called me up on the intercom.
“Will you take over, Harry?”
Someone else said, “come on, Harry, get us home.”
It sounded like Mick, the wireless op. Up to now I had always got them home. I had never in my life been called “Harry” by anyone until we were crewed up at O.T.U. But from them I would have happily accepted any nickname they cared to bestow on me. So we flew on through the night, and I got them home.
When we landed I found the M.O. waiting. He was usually to be seen somewhere in the background. This time, he singled me out and detached me from the weary crews who were standing around, clutching their helmets, drinking their rum-laced coffee, rubbing their faces and eyes to clear their fatigue before they were interrogated.
“How did it go?”
“O.K., Doc.”
“Any trouble?”
“The trip, or me?”
“You.”
“No more than usual.”
“Take your pill?”
“Yes.”
“No effect?”
“No.”
“Take this one, now. Get some sleep and see me in the morning after breakfast.”
“O.K., Doc.”
He slapped my shoulder and trudged off. I went into interrogation with the crew, lighting another cigarette as I did so. Ewart Davies was the Int. Officer at our table. We liked him. He didn’t push us too hard for answers, he was quick, quiet, and had some idea what it was like. He knew we wanted our egg and bacon – and bed. As we walked towards the table, Johnnie, our front gunner, gave me a
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quizzical look. Mac, now our rear gunner since Tommy had gone into hospital, was telling him how he’d chucked some empty bottles out over the target to fox the searchlights; it had worked, too. Gunners were a special breed, and had a special bond.
Next morning, I saw the Doc. He made no bones about it and came straight to the point.
“Come in, sit down. Now then, your grounded until you can have a Medical Board, and as soon as you can pack you’re going on six days’ sick leave.”
I felt as though someone had slammed a brick on to the back of my head. I had flown and lived with my crew for eight months. We had shared much together; more than that perhaps. We had shared everything from hilarious evenings in the “Market” to staring into the face of imminent death, where our expectation of life seemed to be measured in seconds. They had become indispensable to me, we were part of one another, our relationship uniquely deep. We knew one another’s strengths, and weaknesses. Where there was a weakness, and there were few, strength was drawn from the others. Where there was strength, we each drew from it fortitude and endurance. We were closer to each other than brothers and there was an unspoken-of bond of the deepest affection between us all which was greater in its way than anything else in the world of human experience. I was stunned to think I was being parted from them; it was something I had never imagined could possibly happen. Our lives were so much intermingled and we were so completely unified and interdependent that I couldn’t imagine life without Cookie, Col, Mick, Johnnie and Mac.
In a daze, I collected some kit together, saw the Adj. about my travel warrant and found Johnnie. He, of all the crew, was closest to me. We would always sit next to one another on our sessions in the “Market”; he was very quiet, absolutely imperturbable, the personification of steadfastness and quiet courage. Somehow I got to Grimsby, then to Doncaster. On Doncaster station I was surprised to meet Ewart, who had so many times gently interrogated us. Normally so ebullient, he too was now subdued.
“Posted to Northern Ireland,” he said ruefully, in his harsh Welsh
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voice, “Hell’s bells, I never wanted to leave 1 Group, but you’ll be back, don’t you worry.”
Nearly three years later I was to meet him in Malaya. We had much to tell each other then. But now, we were both thoroughly depressed. He saw me on to my train, we shook hands, wished each other “Happy landings” and I looked back at him as the train pulled out, a slight figure, smoking the inevitable cigarette in its long holder, hunched miserably on the end of the platform.
The sick leave was anything but cheerful. I was tired, moody and tense. I developed some new and unpleasant symptoms which I kept to myself. I slept fitfully, ate little, snapped at my parents and listened avidly to every news bulleting on the radio for word of bomber operations. There was a raid on Hamburg, five missing. I drank in the local pub, alone, more than I was accustomed to, lay in bed late, walked alone on the cliffs where I used to go with Ivor on his leaves from the R.A.F. Three of my friends were on the verge of call-up for aircrew and Ivor and another school friend, Connie, had already gone to Stirling squadrons which were being formed and expanded. Of these five, four were soon to die, but there was no knowing that at the time. I looked out the first three and let them eagerly pick my brains, it gave me some relief to be able to talk flying and it filled some of the dreadful blanks in the leave.
I was working it all out. I would apply to go on to night fighters, to get some of my own back, or on to Coastal Command Whitleys. The morning before I was due back off leave I heard the B.B.C. news bulletin.
“Last night, strong forces of Bomber Command attacked the Krupp’s works in Essen and other targets in Western Germany and Occupied France. Much damage was done and large fires were caused. From all these operations sixteen of our aircraft failed to return.”
I found my hands were clenched tightly. Essen. That was an old enemy; we had been twice in and out of its massive and savage defences inside twenty-four hours not so long ago, and it had cost us three of our crews, including our Commanding Officer, in the process. To this day I cannot say or hear that evil name, Essen, without a shiver going down my spine.
My parents saw me off at the station. I was glad to go back;
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I felt like a fish out of water away from a bomber station, it was my life. I was anxious to hear the latest gen., and to get my medical board over and done with, to know what was to become of me. The local train crawled from Doncaster to Grimsby; I found transport there to take me to Binbrook.
My room-mate Johnny Stickings had crashed in January when one engine had failed on the way back from Wilhelmshaven, and he and the only other survivor had been taken to hospital. A little later, another Observer and a good friend, Eric, had gone missing with Abey, our Flight Commander, on Kiel, along with Teddy Bairstow and his crew. I had been moved in with Eric’s room-mate Frank, to keep up our morale, I supposed.
I walked along the empty corridor in the Mess. Someone came out of the ante-room and passed me, a pilot whom I didn’t know. I wondered about him, who he was, who he was replacing. We said “hello”. I went up the stairs and turned left to my room. I opened the door and there was Frank, with his fresh complexion and almost Grecian good looks, putting away his laundry.
“Hiya, Frank,” I said, “what’s the gen?”
“Oh, hello, Harry,” he replied, looking up, “how do you feel? Did you have a good leave?”
“So-so,” I said, “but what’s the gen?”
He cleared his throat.
“Look, Harry,” he said, “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. Cookie, your crew, they went missing on Essen two nights ago.”
“Oh, Christ, Frank, no,” I said, dropping on to my bed, “Oh, God, they didn’t. Is there any news of them?”
He shook his head slowly.
“No, I’m afraid not. They went to Hamburg the other night and got back O.K. with everybody else, then they were on Essen and they didn’t come back, I’m afraid. They were in H-Harry, there was nothing heard from them after they took off. I’m terribly sorry.”
I put my head down into my hands; I was beyond speech. I heard Frank go out of the room very quietly. I thought, “I’ve let them down. I’ve failed them completely. I wasn’t with them to get them back home this one time when they needed me more than ever. I wish
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to God I had gone with them.”
And I wondered who had taken my place. Whoever you were, I thought, I would have you heavy on my conscience for the rest of my life, I would forever walk with your ghost at my side. I knew it was the end of something unique and very wonderful in my life, as though a great light had suddenly failed. It was the end of being called “Harry”. To this day I have never permitted anyone else to call me by that name, their name for me. H-Harry was gone for ever, taking them all with it to their eternity, and their own Harry had died with it, and with them.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Silver spoon boy [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] SILVER SPOON BOY [/underlined]
It’s not a part of the city I’m in very often, but a short while ago, after a lunch engagement, I found myself passing the narrow-fronted shop in the busy street which once was the cafe where I had met him for the last time.
I stopped for a minute or so, oblivious to the intense, grim-faced pedestrians brushing past me, and to the traffic as it roared by. And I remembered that day more clearly, it seemed to me, for in that area, while the occupants of the shops and offices have obviously changed many times, the upper facades of the Victorian buildings have remained virtually unaltered – as have my recollections of Jack.
So indeed has the mystery surrounding him, how he came to be in the R.A.F., what happened to him then, and why the man who might have answered my questions would not do so.
There seems to have been no actual beginning to our friendship, it was simply one of those things which developed out of nothing. Since we were merely children at the time I suppose we must have seen each other in the road, probably each of us with a parent, perhaps eventually spoken a few casual words, but looking back now I cannot put any sort of a date upon it. I suppose friendships are like that. My memories of the house we lived in then are intermingled, woven like the coloured threads of a tapestry, with the recollections of the lads I knew at that time – of Alan, of Norman and Peter, and of Jack himself, who lived nearest to me of them all.
He was an only child of quite well-to-do parents. His father was a tall, big-boned, genial man, fond of country pursuits. Jack’s mother was a pleasantly relaxed, comfortably built lady with shrewd eyes, a good amateur pianist who also had rather a fine contralto voice. Jack was very much the son of his parents, cheerful, almost jaunty in manner, generous to a degree and quite undemanding – this last perhaps because he had most things that an only child of fairly well-off parents could wish for. But although he was a boy whom I had heard described, somewhat jealously perhaps, as having been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he was not by any means a spoiled child.
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Like most other boys of my age I lived an intensely active life, physically in top gear from morning till night. But there appeared to be a shadow across Jack’s life. He was frequently absent from school, and on those occasions when I called at his house I would be told by his mother that he was in bed, unwell. These vague illnesses were, more often than not, described as ‘overgrowing his strength’, but eventually there were hints of a weak heart. He began to be excused games at school and their doctor’s car appeared fairly regularly at their front door. Yet he was never anything else but buoyant and cheerful and I never remember seeing him look or behave very differently from a normal, healthy lad. My own parents, at those times when I told them that Jack was poorly, would give each other meaning looks and would now and again make veiled and half-audible remarks about some doctors who knew when they were on to a good thing. These bouts of malaise never seemed to alter in their frequency, and it became accepted, gradually but inevitably, in the small coterie of friends I had as a young teenager, that Jack was perhaps a little less fit than the rest of us.
Jack’s father, as I have mentioned,. Was interested in country life, and in particular, in shooting; he owned a beautiful and gentle-natured black Labrador, by name Prince. Jack’s uncle was a farmer near to the small country town of B - , some sixty miles away, and close to some good shooting. It was only natural that Jack’s family should spend most of their holidays there. One summer it happened that my parents were going through a period of considerable financial stringency; there had never been any luxuries in my life, but now, even the necessities were scarce.
Then Jack’s father, perhaps being aware of our circumstances, and being the generous man he was, casually asked me if I would like to spend two weeks of the summer holidays with them on the farm. My parents readily and gratefully agreed; I was in the seventh heaven of delight. It was an idyllic fortnight, the car drive there and back were memorable adventures enough, to me, at any rate, without anything further. We had the run of the marginal land on which Jack’s uncle grazed his stock, the scenery was very agreeable, there was impromptu cricket to be played, drives in the country and to
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wonderful, deserted beaches nearby. The discordant note, as far as I was concerned at any rate, was sounded by the early-morning shoot which I attended, crouched unhappily in the butts near the sea’s edge in the half-light of a chilly dawn, while Jack’s father blazed away at the beautiful and harmless ducks and we regaled ourselves with bottles of cold tea, which were regarded by the others, at least, as something of both ritual and delicacy. A little while ago I found, at the bottom of a drawer, a photograph, startlingly clear, of Jack and me standing against a haystack during that holiday, two gawky youths grinning into the camera, with me holding Jack’s cricket bat. I was to visit the farm once again.
When the war came, the little crowd of my friends and I, apart from Jack, went our various ways. It is difficult now to place the events of that time in their correct sequence, the constantly recurring pain of many recollections has tended to blur the outlines, but never to soften the impacts of those tragic times. The two events connected with Jack, I am now astonished to realise, were separated by almost three years of war – in my mind they seemed to be telescoped together, their perspective foreshortened by the passage of time.
Strangely enough, my own family’s ancestors had some connections with B - , and my father, who was always much more interested in the family tree than I ever was, had paid one or two visits to the place over the years to search the parish register for reference to our name and to contemplate the inscriptions on our forebears’ tombstones in the shady churchyard on the side of the hill.
My father was quite obviously under considerable stress during the war; the office where he worked was constantly understaffed as more and more men were called up into the Forces. There were also frequent Air Raid Precautions duties which he could not neglect, nor would ever have dreamed of doing so. In addition, my mother’s health was beginning to fail, and they had two sons in the forces, one of whom was engaged in duties where the chances of eventual survival were rated as about two in five.
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Early in 1942 my own crew, in my absence on sick leave, were reported missing on a raid over the Ruhr. I think my parents must have noticed the effect this had upon me, for they decided that on my next leave we could go to B – for a few days, staying at the hotel in the small market place, if I was agreeable. I thanked them, and thought it might be a good idea. It was late spring when we went, with blue and white quiet skies and sunlight pleasantly shining on the grey stone buildings. The hotel was almost empty; B - , while on the main road, was also between two county-towns which drew the local people like the twin poles of a magnet.
Released from operational flying I embarked upon what was to be several months of drinking far more than was good for me, in an attempt to dull the agony of mind and self-recrimination I was undergoing. This must have been painfully apparent to my parents, and must have caused them considerable heartache, but – and I shall always be grateful to their memories for this – they uttered no word of reproach.
How we spent our time there I cannot remember, perhaps I was in a constant alcoholic haze. The only event I can recall with any clarity was the afternoon we visited Jack’s uncle’s farm and I introduced my parents to Mr. Brown, his wife and his two daughters. I remember it as having the appearance and atmosphere of a scene in a stage play. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, gestures seemed limp and exaggerated and we sat like figures in a tableau against the backdrop of the scarcely-remembered living room of the farmhouse, small-windowed, lit by an oil-lamp, a heavy, dark red tasselled tablecloth draped over the massive dining table. Outside, I could see the shelter-belt of firs waving lazily in the breeze, hypnotic in their motion. My parents and the Brown family sat stiffly in their best clothes. What they talked about, I have no recollection; I said not more than perhaps a dozen words. I remember that one of Jack’s cousins kept looking curiously in my direction from time to time. Jack, now working in a branch of the same bank as his father, was, naturally, mentioned. I hadn’t seen him for quite some time, but someone said he would like to meet me when we went back home, before I returned to my unit.
The arrangements were made. My parents and I got off the bus at its city terminus in the Haymarket. They would make their way to the railway station and so home, I would join them later, to pack my kit at the end of my leave, as that day was my last.
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I remember feeling released and lighter in spirit when I left them, and guilty because I did so, but the sense of freedom was pleasant after a week when it had been necessary to cork down my feelings tightly and be on my best behaviour. Yet I almost dreaded going back to my unit, a Bomber Group Headquarters, where I had been given a sinecure of a job while I waited for a medical board, for the news that I might receive of the fate of the crew of H-Harry. As I walked through the grey city streets it seemed as though I were treading the razor-edged ridge of a mountain in a high wind.
We had arranged to meet at a little cafe on one of the main streets. Jack was standing outside, smartly dressed, tall, looking well and, as usual, cheerful. We shook hands.
“Hello,” he said, “nice to see you again. How are you?”
I lit a cigarette as we walked into the quiet cafe.
“So-so,” I replied, “a lot has happened since I saw you last.”
We sat at a small table, ordered coffee and biscuits. I looked at him and said, “You’ll have heard about my crew, have you?”
He looked down at his cup and nodded. I thought he appeared more adult than I’d ever noticed before.
“Yes,” he replied, “I had heard. How do I tell you how sorry I am?”
“Don’t try,” I said, “it’s O.K., I know.”
He asked, uncomfortably, “Do you think they could be prisoners?”
“I don’t know; it’s nearly two months now, no-one’s heard anything?”
We sat silently for a few minutes, traffic noise falling on our ears. Then he said tentatively, looking at the wings on my chest, “Are you finished flying, for good, I mean?”
I shrugged.
“Not as far as I know. I’ve got six months off then I’ll be having another medical board and we’ll see what they say then. I’ll probably go back on ops, I should think; after all, I’ve only done half a tour, I think I owe somebody something.”
“Do you think they’ll send you back again?” he asked, surprised.
“Oh, yes, they can do anything, you know,” I said, “there’s a bloke on the Squadron who’s completely flak-happy and he’s still operating.”
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He looked at me.
“What do you mean, ‘flak-happy’?”
“He’s round the bend,” I said shortly, “got the twitch, call it what you like.”
Jack shook his head wonderingly.
“But they let him go on flying?”
“Sure they do; he’s a damn good gunner and an experienced one, too. He’s not afraid of man or beast. Of course,“ I said, “there is another side to it – he could be dead by now. It’s a while since I saw him, and anything could have happened in that time. It depends on the targets you get. It depends on a hell of a lot of things.”
Jack swallowed hard.
I asked him if he’d seen anything of Alan or Peter.
“They’ve both volunteered for aircrew,” he said. I thought he sounded a bit wistful and I could tell what he was thinking.
“Listen,” I said firmly, “when I went and stuck my neck out I didn’t do it as a dare to the rest of you, you know, there are other ways of getting yourselves into trouble. And don’t you go losing any sleep about not being fit, it’s not your fault, and when the time comes you’ll be shoved into something which will be useful to the war effort, I’ve no doubt at all.”
He looked at my wings again.
“I hope so,” he replied, “it’s not a great deal of fun feeling left out of things.”
We finished our coffee. He insisted on paying for them, saying that he was a rich war-profiteer. He was probably getting a lot less than me, but it was no use arguing, I didn’t have a lot of time, and neither did he. I suddenly thought of that and said to him, “Anyhow, what are you doing here, skiving off during working hours? Shouldn’t you be drawing up balance sheets or something?”
He looked at me a bit sheepishly, squinting into the sunshine as we stood on the pavement with the pedestrians hurrying by around us.
“Oh, I asked the Manager for an hour off,” he said airily, “told him I was meeting a pilot on leave from the R.A.F. He said to tell you to drop one for him.”
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We shook hands.
“Take care of yourself,” he said, “and I hope you’ll have some good news soon.”
“Thanks, so do I.” I could hear the pessimism in my own voice. I looked at my watch. “Well, it’s been great seeing you; until next time, then, so long, Jack.”
It was some time later when I learned, with feelings of complete astonishment, almost disbelief, that not only was Jack now in the R.A.F., but that he had been accepted for aircrew training. I had to read my parents’ letter several times before I could begin to grasp what they were telling me.
Many months went by. I had been stationed at Tuddenham, in Suffolk, for a year, watching the almost nightly operations of, originally, the Squadron’s Stirlings, then their Lancasters; by day seeing the vast fleets of American Fortresses and Liberators forming up overhead to carry on the round-the-clock bombing of German cities. Late on a February afternoon I stepped out of the Tuddenham mail van, on which I had hitched a lift, at the aerodrome gates of Mildenhall, our parent station. The daylight was already fading and there was comparative silence; the Fortresses were back at their East Anglian bases and our Lancasters were waiting, poised to go that night.
I stood watching the roadway which led up to the barrier at the guardroom, chatting to the Service Policeman on duty. I recognised J – ‘s walk when she was far away. The S.P., who knew her, wished us a good leave, saluted and turned away. J – and I had met and worked together in the Operations Room of a bomber station in east Yorkshire, around the time of the Battle of Hamburg. But after a blissful few months I had been posted to Tuddenham, then, quite amazingly, following a bleak interval without her, she had been posted to the Base Operations Room at Mildenhall, a small handful of miles away. Everyone who knew us thought that one or other of us had somehow wangled things; in point of fact it was simply unbelievably good luck. In addition, it was a considerable feather in her cap as Mildenhall was one of the key stations in Bomber Command.
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Consequently, we saw one another several times a week when she, of course, should have been catching up on her sleep after long and hectic hours of night duty when operations were on. Now we were going on leave together; three days at my home then three at hers.
A lorry, known to all as the Liberty Wagon, took us to the nearest railway station at Shippea Hill, along with a dozen or so others, then we caught a local train to Ely. We had a meal there and took the overnight train home. We arrived before breakfast the following morning. When we had freshened up and had breakfast, my mother, who looked paler and more drawn than when I had last seen her three months before, looked at me across the table and said quietly, “I hardly know how to tell you this; it’s so awful, when you and J – have just started your leave.”
I couldn’t guess what was coming, but I steeled myself for whatever it might be.
“What is it, mother?”
She bit her lip then said, eyes averted, “I’m afraid it’s bad news, it’s Jack, he was killed two days ago.”
I felt my mouth open and close, then I reached slowly for a cigarette.
“But – was he on ops? I didn’t know he’d got as far as that, I thought he was still training.”
Mother nodded.
“As far as I know, he was killed training, night flying.”
She paused.
“You will go and see his parents, won’t you? They’re terribly upset, naturally.”
“Of course I’ll go,” I said, “of course I will.”
I went to see them that afternoon, after I had screwed up my courage to the limit for what I knew would be an ordeal for all of us. The tension in their house was almost tangible, their grief hung on the air like a cloud. They knew little about it except that Jack was dead; he had been a Navigator on Wellingtons at an Operational Training Unit in the Midlands whose name, Husband’s Bosworth, rang a bell with me when they told me. His pilot was also from our area;
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they had flown into a hill near a village in Northamptonshire. His funeral was here, tomorrow, would I come? It was unthinkable, of course, that I would not. His father paced the room incessantly, never meeting my eyes, Jack’s mother, her face bloated with weeping, tore at a handkerchief in her deep armchair in the corner. Their beautiful piano, black and shining, would remain unplayed for a long time, I knew, and her voice, which I had so often heard in Schumann lieder, would be silent now. The dog lay across the hearthrug, his eyes following first one speaker, then the other; I felt he knew what had happened to his beloved young master.
I met the cortege at the massive stone and iron gateway of the cemetery the following afternoon. The late winter sun was sinking and it was bitterly cold under the fading colour of an almost cloudless sky. I was the only non-relation there; as the hearse came slowly up to the gates through an avenue of trees I gave it the finest salute I had ever given to any senior officer. When I went home in the deepening dusk J – was alone in the living room, sitting in the firelight. I kissed her gently, holding her to me.
That evening, as I felt I must, I went to see Jack’s parents again. They were sitting alone, quieter than before, and with the calm of resignation beginning to possess them. Prince’s tail thumped the hearthrug twice as I walked into the room, his eyebrows lifted and fell as he looked at me, his chin across his folded paws. Jack’s photograph smiled cheerfully down from the mantelpiece. I told them I had come to say au revoir. His father thanked me for being there that afternoon, then, “Do you think you could possibly do something for us?”
“If I can, of course,” I said, glad to be moving on to practicalities.
“You know Jack was stationed at Husband’s Bosworth when – it happened, don’t you?”
“I didn’t know at the time,” I said, a bit uncomfortably, thinking that I should have done. We had seldom written to one another; one didn’t have much time nor the mental quietude in Bomber Command to do very much in the way of letter-writing, except to one’s girlfriend.
He went on.
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“Do you know anyone there? In your job I thought perhaps you might know someone who could tell us just what happened. We know so little, just what his C.O.’s letter told us, not very much at all. But if you could, perhaps, speak to someone?”
Jack’s mother dabbed at her eyes.
“Actually, I do know someone there, as it happens,” I said, “a chap I worked with at Tuddenham until recently was posted there as Adjutant; I’m sure he’ll be able to tell me something.”
He brightened slightly.
“That’s good,” he said, “really quite a coincidence. What sort of chap is he? You really think he would be able to help?”
I described George, avuncular, knowledgeable, but on occasions fiery and quite outspoken.
“I’ll phone him as soon as I can after I get back to Tuddenham, and get in touch with you.”
“I’ll be glad to pay any expense involved, if there is any,” he said, “and don’t get yourself into trouble on our account, will you? But – we would like to know something, of course.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I told him, “there’ll be no expense, and no trouble at all.”
I said goodbye to them. I was not to know that I would never see them again.
The first day back from leave I rang George quite confidently. He sounded his usual self, brisk, affable as ever, but perhaps slightly fussed. Had he trodden on a few toes already, I wondered? After the conventional greetings were over, I came to the point.
“George, I’ll tell you why I’m ringing you – it’s about a crash you had a week or so ago, the pilot was Sergeant - - . Well, I was a friend of the Navigator. I’ve just come back from his funeral at home and his parents were wondering If you could give them, through me, any further details of how it happened.”
There was an abrupt and surprising change in his manner.
“Is that why you rang me? To ask me that? I can’t tell them any more than was in the letter to them. I’m surprised at them asking you to do this.”
“O.K., then, George,” I said calmly, “if that’s how it is then I’m very sorry to have bothered you.”
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I rang off. I was extremely puzzled and quite troubled by his unexpected reaction; we had always been, and still are, good friends and our working relationship was never anything less than co-operative and mutually accommodating. That evening I wrote to Jack’s father, telling him briefly that I had been unable to obtain any further facts about the crash. He did not reply.
For various reasons, and to my lasting shame, I did not visit the graves of Jack, and of Peter, Connie and Roly, another classmate, all Bomber Command aircrew casualties, for several years. But after having stood in that busy street, gazing at what had been the cafe, and remembering Jack and I as we had been then, both of us in the prime of youth, an inner compulsion drove me to do so. I could find the graves of all of those who were buried there except one – Jack. I visited and revisited the place where I thought I had stood at his funeral, searching the tombstones round about for his name, but to no avail. I had heard that his parents had moved to B – on Mr. Henderson’s retirement and I was almost on the point of becoming convinced that they had had Jack re-interred there.
Eventually, after several fruitless searches, and as a last resort, I decided to go to the cemetery office to make enquiries. In a few minutes I had found it, about a hundred yards away from the place where I had been looking. There was a solid, low grey headstone with a substantial curb. There was the name, Flying Officer John Henderson, ‘killed in a flying accident 3rd February 1945.’ So very near to the end of the war, I thought sadly. The lettering was now so faded as to be almost illegible. Underneath his name were those of both his parents. The grave itself was completely bare, not a flower, not a blade of grass, not even a weed, only the cold, wet earth under the leaden sky.
I stood for several minutes in the silence, remembering them, but especially remembering Jack, incidents from our friendship returning vividly to mind. And I wondered about many things, the questions now long unanswered. Was he really the semi-invalid he had always been made out to be? How then had he passed his aircrew medical? Why did they crash that night? Had he – God forbid – made a navigational
[page break]
error? Why had George been so brusque and annoyed at my question?
There were no answers to be found in the rustling of the cold breeze among the fallen, russet leaves, and I thought that there never would be, that I would never know. But worse, I wondered would there be anyone left to remember Jack when I was no longer able to remember, or would his name disappear completely, both from his gravestone and from the memories of everyone who might have known him on earth?
I took the Remembrance Day poppy out of my lapel and pressed it into the sodden, bare earth below his name. Then on that grey afternoon I spoke a few words to him, very quietly, but knowing that somewhere, he would hear. And as the winter dusk was falling I turned away.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I did not expect that I should be writing a sequel to this, but a sequel there is, one long-delayed…
Obviously, I have thought very many times about Jack since his fatal crash and I have visited his grave very many times also. But rarely, if ever, have I dreamed about him. Until a few nights ago, that is, more than fifty-one years since he was killed. It was a dream which was so vivid and so poignant – that realisation was with me even as I was dreaming it – that it has stayed with me, haunted me and disturbed me ever since the early morning when, in this heartbreaking dream, I recognised Jack, from a great distance, walking towards me on a riverside path. There were iron railings on my right, a river was nearby, at my left hand, the path curving slightly from my left to the right. For some reason I was quite sure I was on the riverside at Stratford-upon-Avon. I have been there twice, once during the war, with Connie and Shep, when we were at Moreton-in-the-Marsh together, and once on a brief visit when I was on holiday at Malvern. Yes, this was Stratford, I was positive. And I knew it was Jack approaching, I could distinguish his
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features, his walk, his tall, upright figure. He was as I never saw him in life, in uniform, his peaked cap at a slight angle on his head, the Navigator’s half-wing above his breast pocket. There he was, coming briskly towards me, smiling, the Jack I knew of old. And he was with a girl. Her features I could not distinguish as she approached me with him; they were walking close together, arm in arm. Even in my dream I could feel a lump in my throat as I watched them. They stopped in front of me. I heard Jack say, “This is Janet”, and I could see now that she was smiling, a radiant, pure smile, full of utter delight and joy.
They turned together and walked slowly in the direction that I was going. It had turned slightly misty. I was fascinated by Jack’s girl Janet, wondering what sort of person she was; I could not take my eyes off her. She wore a small, round hat of the pillbox type, and a brownish, quite long, heavy coat. Her lips were full, I saw, and pink; here eyes shone with a wonderful radiance, such as I have rarely seen. I had the overwhelming sensation of their happiness with one another. Then the girl, Janet, looked at me directly, her arm still through Jack’s, and gave me her wonderful smile, so full of bliss.
“We are going to be married,” she said, “next year.”
At that moment she looked as lovely as anyone I have ever seen. But immediately, as though I had been submerged by a wave from the sea, I felt an immense sorrow engulf me, because, as I awoke slowly, with the vision of that lovely, loving couple in my brain, even in my dream I knew that their marriage could never, never be. For Jack was to die; Jack was dead.
It is a dream I shall have in my mind until the day of my own death, until Jack and I meet once more and – God alone knows whether there ever was a girl named Janet – perhaps I might meet that girl who I dreamed was going to marry my oldest and closest friend, The Silver Spoon Boy, the boy who gave everything he ever possessed. ‘Too full already is the grave, Of fellows who were young and brave, And died because they were.’
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Intermezzo [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] INTERMEZZO [/underlined]
“Sign here? And here? That it? O.K., Sergeant. Now, what have I signed for? Oh, I see, one brand-new Wimpy in mint condition with full certificate of airworthiness and rarin’ to go. HD 966, isn’t it? Where do I find her? That it, over there by the dispersal hut? O.K., thanks. Probably be back tomorrow for another. Cheerio.”
“Here we are, on this beautiful morning. HD 966. Plenty of juice, Corporal? Well, I’m not going as far as John o’ Groats, thanks, just to Moreton-in-the-Marsh. Pitot head cover off? Fine.”
“There’s only me. Up the ladder. God, it’s hot in here. Haul the ladder up, stow it next to the bomb-sight. Slam the escape-hatch door. Stamp it down firmly, to be sure. Hell, the heat. Slide open the windows, that’s better. Shove my chute into the stowage. Into the driver’s seat, check brakes on. Push and pull the controls about to test for full movement. Shove the rudder to and fro with my feet. All free. Fine. Check the petrol gauges. Enough.”
“Undercart lever down and locked. Flaps neutral. Bomb doors closed. Switch on the undercart lights. There we are, three greens. Undercart warning horn? God, that’s loud. Never mind. Main petrol cock on, balance cock down.”
“Now. Throttles closed, boost override normal, mixture rich, pitch levers fully fine, superchargers medium. O.K. So – ignition on, open throttle an inch. There we are. Now, yell out of the window. Contact port! Press the starter button. That’s it, got her! Hell! What a row, wish I’d brought my helmet after all. Shut the window. No, damn, not yet. Contact starboard! Press the button. There she goes. Come on, come on. Now shut the window. It’s a bit cooler now, anyhow.”
“Oil pressure O.K., all temperatures O.K. So, what’re you waiting for? Run them up. Port engine first. What a bloody noise. Pitch controls O.K., revs down and up again. Give her plus four boost. This is going to be damn noisy. Here goes. Throttle back, boost override in. Now for it. Open right up. Hell, it’s awful. Plus
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nine and threequarters. Fair enough. Throttle back smoothly. Not too quick. Override out. Now the starboard engine. Stick my fingers in that ear. Pitch control O.K. Plus four boost. Mag drop? ……”
“All O.K., then. Brake pressure? Right up. Try each wheel. O.K. So it should be, too, brand new kite. There goes the Anson with those A.T.A. girls. God, shook me when that blonde brought the Halifax in. Cool as you please, all five foot nothing of her. Damn good landing, too. Smashing blonde, like to see her again. Like to – hey, steady on! Back to business. Test the flaps. Right down. Now up again. Fine. Where’s he taken the starter trolley? Oh. Over there, well away from me. See they haven’t got that bloody Whitley moved yet. Bit off-putting, that, finding a pranged Whitley over a hump in the runway, just after you’ve landed. Plenty of room, though, at least it’s on the grass. Well, come on, let’s get back to Moreton, might have half a can if there’s no more flying today.”
“Chocks away. Wave hands across each other where the erk can see. There he goes with the port chock. Now the starboard. Thumbs up from him. And from me. Little bit of throttle, hold the yoke well back. Here we go. Taxy out over the grass. Bumpy. Wish they’d get another runway put in, too. The one they have got isn’t even into the prevailing wind. Using it today, though, I see. Not much wind at all, but the Anson used it. Lovely sunny day. Swing the nose about a bit, never know what’s ahead. Would hate to prang a Spit or something. What’s that Oxford doing? Coming in. Trundle up to the end of the runway, opposite the line of trees. Bit off-putting they are, too, when you’re approaching to land. Park, crosswind. Brakes on. Relax and watch him come in. Wheels down, crosswind, losing height. Bit bumpy over the trees, of course. Flaps down, now he’s turning in. Nice steady approach. Oh, Christ, here’s a Spit coming in next, what a bind. I’ll have to wait a bit. Yes, he’s put his undercart down. Damn!”
”Float her down, boy, float her down. Now, watch it. Not bad, not bad at all. Over-correcting a bit on his rudder on the runway. Never mind, nice landing, though. Open up my throttles to clear the plugs of oil. Yoke hard back. What a row. There we are, sounds
[page break]
O.K. Now throttle back and wait for the Spit. Quick check round the dials again. Set the altimeter to zero. Gyro to zero and leave it caged. Where is he? Oh, here he comes, hellish fast. God! That was a split-arse turn and no mistake. Full flap. Well, he is heading in approximately the right direction. Whoof! He’s down. A bit wheel-y, but never mind, he’s in one piece and still rolling. Now beat it, chum, and let a real kite take off. No-one else in the circuit? Thank bloody goodness. Wait a tick, where’s my friend in that Spit? Oh, there he goes, taxying to the Watch Office. Fighter boys – I don’t know!”
Here we go then. Flap fifteen degrees. Brakes off. Port throttle to turn on to the runway. Hope the far end’s clear. Suppose they would poop off a red if it wasn’t. Nice and central Brakes on. Uncage gyro on 0. Now hold your hat. Open both throttles steadily against the brakes. What a bloody row. Yoke back, now let it go to central. Not too far, not too far. More throttle. Hold the brakes on. She’s shuddering like hell, wants to jump off the runway. Lift the tail just a bit more. Now. Full throttle and brakes off. Here we go – and how! We’re really rolling. Shove those throttles forward against the stops. Touch of rudder against the swing. Fine. Hold it there.”
“Feels great. Love take-offs, tremendous sense of power. Hellish noise, too. Airspeed? 50. Nice and straight, shove the tail well up, a real 3 Group takeoff. Touch of rudder again. 65. Over the hump. Gi-doying! Nearly airborne then! Plus nine and threequarters on both, 3000 revs. Wizard. 75. Runway clear and pouring back underneath. There’s that Whitley. Plenty of room. 80. Almost ready. Still bags of room. Come on, come on. Ease back a bit. Trying hard to go, almost a bounce then. Now? Now she’s off. Airborne. Keep her straight, wheels up. Pick your field in case an engine cuts. Right, got one. Lights out as the wheels come up. Then red, red, red. All up and locked. Throttle back to climbing boost. Revs back to 2600. Airspeed 120. Overrides out. 200 feet. Gyro still on 0. Take half the flap off. Watch it, now. 300 feet. All flap off. Slight sink there, feels horrible. Keep climbing. Everything sounds good. Quick look around the panel. All O.K.
[page break]
“1000 feet. Level off. Cruising boost and revs. Select weak mixture on both. Rate 2 turn to port. There’s the Oxford just taking off. Spit’s parked at the Watch Office, next to the Hali. The Hali – God! That girl was a smasher. Cirencester just below the port wing. Now the railway. And there’s the Fosse Way. Follow it home, no bother. The Romans knew how to build roads. Excuse me, Centurion, but there’s an enemy chariot on your tail! Weave left, Lucius Quintus – now! Weather’s wizard, just a few puffs of cloud at 1500 feet. No hurry. Throttle back to economical cruising boost and revs. Try the trimmers. Feet off the rudder. Nice, keeps straight. Feet on again. Hands off. Bit nose heavy. Just a touch on the trimmer. Try again. There we are, perfect, no wing-drop, no pitching, no yawing. Flies herself and purrs like a sewing machine, she’s a beaut. Check the magnetic compass. Heading 037. Cage the gyro, set to 037, uncage. Check around the panel. Zero boost, 1850 revs, airspeed 150, altimeter 1000 feet, temps. and pressures O.K. and steady. Fosse Way sliding along under the port wing. Vis thirty to forty miles, 2/10 cumulus at 1500 feet. God’s in his heaven and all that.”
“What a view, all greens and hazy blues. Fields, trees, hedges, pale little villages. Lovely country. Must really explore it soon. Good as being on leave. I’m lucky. Bit lonely in these kites all on your own, though. Used to five other bods nattering. Nearly four months now. I wonder if there’s any news yet. Write to the Squadron tonight, see if there’s anything come through from the Red Cross.”
“Kite at 10 o’clock, slightly higher. Twin. Oxford, heading for Little Rissington, I’ll bet. Wonder who’ll take this Wimpy over. Couple of weeks and it could be bombing Tobruk or somewhere. Long stooge out there. Portreath – Gib – Malta – Canal Zone. Blow their luck. Wonder what the chop rate is out there. Better than we had, I’ll bet. Spit. at nine o’clock, high, heading East. Going like a bat out of hell. Clipped-wing job. Boy! Is he pouring on the coal. Wonder if he’s a P.R.U. type. Climbing hard, too. There he goes. Berlin by lunchtime at 40 thousand plus, I’ll bet. Nothing to touch him. Take his pictures, stuff the nose down and come home with 450 on the clock. Not a thing near him. That’s the life.”
[page break]
“Stow-on-the-Wold coming up below. Must go back to that pub some time. Wonder if I’ll hear anything from the police. No rear light. Jam had no front light. Both tight as newts. Tried to tell the flattie we were a tandem which had just come apart, wouldn’t believe us. Hell, couldn’t even pronounce it, I called it a damned ‘un, could hardly talk for laughing. We’d had a few that night! Blasted nuisance, though, expect we’ll be fined ten bob each. Shan’t go to court, though, write them a pitiful letter. Got no ident letters yet, how about doing a beat-up at nought feet? Oh, hell, can’t be bothered. Too hot, anyhow, slide the window open a bit more. Wouldn’t want to drop off to sleep like I did that night at Moose Jaw. Shaky do, that. Never mind, still alive and kicking.”
“Should write home tonight, really. Can’t be bothered to do that, either. Write to Betty? Oh, Christ, what’s the use? She’s hooked up to that other bloke, whoever he is. Don’t even know his name. Hell and damnation, why didn’t I - ? What’s the bloody use of moaning about it? But, God, she was nice. Wizard girl. There were angels dining at the Ritz - . Oh, for God’s sake, stop it. She’s gone, she’s gone, you’ve bloody had it, you missed your chance. Just stop thinking about her. Forget it. Oh, hell, why didn’t - ? Christ! Forget it, can’t you? Think of something else. Yes. Yes. What? I know. Let’s have a song.”
“Ops in a Wimpy, ops in a Wimpy,
Who’ll come on ops in a Wimpy with me?
And the rear gunner laughed as they pranged it on the hangar roof,
Who’ll come on ops in a Wimpy with me?”
“There we are, Moreton dead ahead. Long runway end on to me. Two kites on the circuit. God, I’m ready for a bite of lunch. Wonder what it is? I’ll do this right, otherwise the Boss will chew me off.”
“Into wind over the runway in use. Good look-see at the Signals Area, then a copybook circuit. Here we go. Signal for transport by pushing the revs up and down again. Makes a nice howl, hear it for miles. Oh, hell, I expect I’ll get chewed off for that, though.”
[page break]
Blast him, why does he hate my guts? Those other two Wimpies have gone, must have landed. Yes, can see one taxying. Reduce airspeed to 140. No signals out except the landing-T and that’s O.K. Crosswind leg. There’s the van leaving the Flight Office, good-oh, he’s heard it. Turn port, downwind. Throttle back to 120. 120 it is. Lock off, select wheels down. Red lights out. Green, green, green. Down and locked. Ready for crosswind.”
“Rate 1 1/2 turn to port, now. Nice. Select flap 15 degrees. Stop. Lever to neutral. Push a bit to compensate for the flap. Now the approach. Full flap. Shove the nose down. Rate 1 1/2 turn to port again. Watch the airspeed. Back to 95. Pitch fully fine. The van’s heading for dispersal down there. Keep the speed at 95. Dead in line with the runway, height just nice. Carry on, carry on. Losing height nicely, speed dead on 95. Trees rushing by. Lower and lower. Throttle right back. Push the nose down a bit more. Ten feet, now level off. Lovely, sinking down beautifully. Airspeed falling off as the runway comes up. Clunk! We’re down, what a beaut. Have we landed, my good man? I didn’t feel a bloody thing. Keep straight with the rudder. No brake, plenty of room. Slowing down now. Flaps up. Turn right at the peri. track. There we are.”
“Van’s waiting for me. Good-oh. Follow it round to whichever dispersal. Go on, then, after you, I’m waiting. That’s better. Get well ahead, where I can see you. That’s it. Weave the nose a bit. Not too rough with the throttles. Bit of brake now. O.K., I see which dispersal. Bit more brake. Slow right down. Turn into dispersal and swing round into wind in one go, with the starboard throttle. Flashy! Throttle back, straighten her up. There’s an erk with the chocks. Roll to a stop. Brakes on and locked. Pull up the cut-outs to stop the engines. That’s it, piece of cake.”
“Ain’t it gone quiet? Out of the seat. Where’s my chute? Yank open the escape hatch and shove the ladder down. Just nice time for lunch. Wotcher, Loopy, thanks for the lift. Did you witness my absolutely superb landing? No? Well, you missed a treat. How’s the Boss? What was that? Do what to him? Not me, old boy, it’s
[page break]
a Court Martial offence, and besides, it’s immoral. Come on, let’s go for lunch. What about the White Hart tonight? By the way, you missed a treat at Kemble this morning. I was just standing there, waiting until this kite was ready, when a Hali. comes into the circuit. Lovely approach and landing, taxies in, stops, and what do you think, out steps this A.T.A. pilot. Wait a minute, wait a minute, this one was a dame, and a wizard blonde at that. Now just let me describe her to you in some detail, you lascivious, drooling Australian, while I permit you to drive me to the Mess. Well, now, she was about five foot six, and her figure…..”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Overshoot [/underlined] [/inserted]
[page break]
[underlined] OVERSHOOT [/underlined]
In that glorious summer they had decided that I could do some non-operational flying, so they posted me away from Group Headquarters at Bawtry Hall, where I’d been playing about with a bit of admin. work, a lot of cricket, and, between drinking sessions, flirting with a couple of W.A.A.F.s.
Bawtry had been very pleasant but it was distinctly stuffy after the Squadron. I was the only recently operational aircrew there and I always had the feeling that they were waiting uneasily and suspiciously for me to start swinging from the chandelier, or to come rushing up to someone very senior and snip his tie off at the knot. What really made it for me was the brief moment when I happened to look across the anteroom one day – where Group Captains and other wingless wonders were two a penny, with bags of fruit salad to be seen on their chests, though – I looked across and saw him standing there, quite quietly. It was “Babe” Learoyd, and he had only one medal ribbon, that of the Victoria Cross.
It was a bit strange when I found myself back on a Wellington Station again, even more so because this one, an O.T.U. at Moreton-in-the-Marsh, was set in lovely pastoral countryside, a complete contrast to my Squadron’s base on top of the Lincolnshire Wolds. As I was back on flying, I decided that instead of getting drunk every night I’d better cut it down a bit, to every other night, if I wanted to survive, of course, which was debatable. I suppose that was oversimplifying it, because if I misjudged something and pranged, I would possibly write myself off, but I might take a few quite innocent people with me, which wasn’t by any means O.K.
However, I needed something to knock me senseless at night, because I was still getting nightmares. In the end, I would usually fight myself awake, distressed and sweating, and lie wide-eyed, until the summer dawn at last came palely to my window and I heard the distant whistle of the first train as it wound its way through the trees and by the little brooks down to Adlestrop and Oxford.
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That train and the railway station in the small market town gradually became to me symbols of ordinary, carefree life, of freedom and safety from sudden death, symbols I was desperate to hang on to. Eventually, the station became so central and vital a part of these imaginings that I lived in considerable and constant anxiety lest one of our aircraft while using the short runway which pointed directly towards it, should crash on to it and destroy my only link with the sanity of the outside world.
I wasn’t posted to the actual O.T.U. in Moreton, but to No. 1446 Ferry Flight. Basically, the idea was that we picked up brand-new Wimpies from Kemble, about half an hour’s flying time away, flew them solo, following the Fosse Way, back to Moreton, then handed them over to pupil crews from the O.T.U. who would do one or two cross-countries in them and then fly them out to the Middle East, in hops, of course, to reinforce the Squadrons in the Western Desert. Sometimes they were straight bombers, nevertheless looking strange in their sand-coloured camouflage, sometimes “T.B.s”, torpedo-bombers, with the front turret area faired in by fabric and the torpedo firing-button on the control yoke, and sometimes they were pure white Mark VIII “sticklebacks”, bristling with A.S.V. radar aerials, low-level radar altimeters and the like.
One morning I had collected a T.B. from Kemble and was bringing it in to Moreton. No bother at all. Except on my approach to land I seemed to be coming in a bit steeply, I thought. I checked the airspeed, 95, correct. I checked the flap-setting – yes, I had full flap on, and wheels down. Looked at the A.S.I. again. Still 95. But, hell, I thought suddenly, it’s graduated in knots. Frantic mental calculations to convert knots to m.p.h. Ease back on the control column a bit. Multiply by five, divide by six, I concluded. Say, 80. So, bring the speed back to 80 indicated. I should have checked before take-off, of course. After all, this was a T.B., a nautical job. Looks right now, I thought, except that I’m floating a bit while the airspeed drops off, using a bit more runway to get her in. No panic, though. I got her down quite nicely and didn’t go anywhere near the far hedge. Quite a good landing, too, though I says it as shouldn’t.
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But, just my luck, Squadron Leader --- had noticed it.
“That’s not a bloody Spit you just brought in, you know, Junior,” was his greeting as I walked into the Flight Office. I sighed inwardly. Here we go again, I thought.
“No, sir.”
What the hell were you doing? Trying to land at Little Rissington?”
“Just came in a bit fast, sir, that’s all.”
“You should’ve gone round again, done an overshoot.”
“Well, sir, I don’t much like overshoots on Wimpies.”
He grunted.
“Don’t like overshoots,” he said acidly, “Are you a competent pilot, or not?”
“Yes, sir, I am, but I don’t like taking unnecessary risks.”
To tell the truth, I hated overshoots completely. You had to shove on full throttle when you decided you weren’t going to make it, and with the full flap you already had on, the nose tried to come up and stall you at fifty feet. So you pushed the nose down with all your strength and some frantic adjustment of the elevator trimmer – three hands would have been useful about then – to pick up some speed before you even thought of climbing away to have another shot at a landing. Then, while keeping straight you had to milk off seventy degrees of flap a little at a time – and she wasn’t at all fond of that process. She wanted to give up the whole idea and just sit down hard into a field, to sink wearily on to the deck and spread herself, and you, around the county. You had to be damn careful not to take off too much flap in too much of a hurry when those big trees came nearer, or when those hills started to look rather adjacent. At night, of course, you couldn’t see them at all, but you knew they were lurking somewhere handy. If you were in a hurry about taking the flap off, then, you went down like a grand piano from a fourth-storey window, and you’d had it. No, overshoots were definitely not for me, thank you very much, not unless they were absolutely essential, and I knew that I knew, to the foot, when they were. I’d never been wrong yet.
“Well, watch it in future, Junior, and don’t set the pupils a bad example.”
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I could quite understand why Loopy had been within an ace of punching him in the face, a few days previously. It wasn’t only the things he said, it was the way in which he said them. Before I could reply he went on, “You might be interested to know that we’ve got the S.I.O.’s son taking a kite out to Gib. soon, he’s done his circuits and bumps and he’s crewed up. His father had a word with me at lunchtime yesterday.”
As I only knew the Senior Intelligence Officer vaguely by sight I merely murmured something non-commital [sic] and asked if there was anything else. I was told, reluctantly, no, there wasn’t, so I saluted and drifted out to have a word or two with Dim and Loopy.
A few days later there was a gap in the flow of kites from Kemble, and as Loopy and I had done all the compass and loop-swinging on those we’d recently collected I took myself off to the Intelligence Library. I was standing at one of the high, sloping library desks, reading one of the magazines, when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone come in and stand at a desk about six feet to my left. I took no notice of him but carried on reading Tee Emm or whatever it was. When I had finished, I turned to go – and recognised him.
“Christ! It’s Connie, isn’t it?” I exclaimed.
I had last seen him in the Sixth Form at school, five years ago. Five thousand years ago.
“Yoicks!” he said, greeting me by the nickname I’d almost forgotten. Connie wasn’t his real name, either, but he’d always been called that at school because, it was said, he had a sister of that name who was more beautiful than the moon and all the stars. A shame I never met her. We shook hands vigorously.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.
“Been posted to something called a Ferry Flight,” he replied.
“Bloody marvellous! I’m in that, too; come into the madhouse!”
“Well, blow me,” Connie said, “it’s a small world, isn’t it?”
We celebrated that night, in traditional fashion, with several pints apiece. It was great to have him with me, he was jaunty, carefree, entertaining and likeable. I had noticed, of course, that he had the ribbon of the D.F.M. One day, as we walked through some nearby town on a half-day off, I noticed too that his battledress was ripped,
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just below his ribs, on one side.
“By the way,” I said, “do you know you’ve torn your battledress?”
I pointed to the damage. He laughed heartily.
“That’s my line-shoot, I’m not repairing that, Yoicks – got that over Turin from a cannon-shell. Never felt a thing!”
It was about this time that I discovered the poems of A.E. Housman and, on free afternoons, I would lie on the unkempt lawn of the little cottage where I had my room, out beyond the Four Shires Stone, and would read his poems long into the drowsy, high-summer afternoons, their words tinged with the sadness that I had learned. And as I lay there, the supple, vivid wasps would tunnel and plunder the ripe plums I had picked off the little tree under whose shade I rested. There was constantly to be heard, with the persistence of a Purcell ground, the noise of the Wellingtons on the circuit, two miles away, over the lush green Gloucestershire landscape, hazy with heat, the sound rising and falling on the consciousness like the breathing of some sleeping giant.
At length I would pick myself up, stiffly, feeling the skin of my face taut with the sun, and put the poetry away. Then in the incipient twilight I would stroll down the road towards the sinking sun to meet Connie, to have dinner in the Mess and to slip easily into the comfortable routine of an evening’s drinking with him, and perhaps with Dim, Loopy, Pants or Mervyn, in the anteroom, or down at the White Hart in the village. I would see Connie’s dark hair fall across his forehead, his heavy black brows lift and lower expressively over his mischievous eyes as he told some humorous story of his days and nights on his Squadron at Downham Market. Sometimes, when we were flush, he and I would catch a train to one of the neighbouring market towns, to embark on an evening’s pub crawl, laughing at each other and at ourselves as the beer took effect, and as the darkness slowly fell, un-noticed; each of us drowning our private memories.
Once, a bunch of O.T.U. pupil crews came into a pub where we were sitting – was it in Evesham? – obviously on an end-of-course party before they went their various ways to join their bomber Squadrons. They joked a lot, sang a bit and indulged in some mild, laughing horseplay. Connie, who like me had been watching them, suddenly
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grew solemn.
“Poor sods,” he said gravely, “they don’t know what’s coming to them, do they, Yoicks?”
Poor Connie, too. He himself had not long to go. Just over a year later he was killed, at the controls of his Stirling, where, had he known that he must die, he would have wished to be, I think.
Eventually, wherever I had been, I would fall into bed, my brain dulled by the alcohol, but neverthless [sic] conscious enough to dread what the night might hold for me, waiting for the nightmares to come again.
There was one kite in the circuit, wheels down, as I strolled towards the Mess for dinner as twilight was beginning to fall. It was yet another lovely evening, and what with the idyllic existence and Connie’s new-found friendship, I was feeling that as far as I was concerned, I could stay here until further notice, despite Squadron Leader --- and his unpleasant little ways.
I was quite near to the Four Shires Stone when I heard the sudden howl as the kite’s engines were opened up to full throttle. Should we go to the White Hart with Loopy and Dim tonight, I wondered, or have a bit of a session in the Mess? Just then there was a loud thump and a silence, another thump, and I saw a telltale column of black smoke erupting over the hedges and treetops ahead and slightly to my left, a mile or so away, I guessed. The kite had overshot and gone in.
“Jesus!” I said, and broke into a run down the road. I was panting and sweating along when suddenly the Flight van screeched to a halt beside me, going the same way. Squadron Leader --- was driving.
“Get in, Junior,” he yelled, “We’ve got to get them out!”
He let in the clutch and drove fiercely down the empty road. The pillar of smoke grew bigger as we got nearer. Then I saw the gap in the hedge and the smashed tree where it had hit. At the far edge of the field the shattered Wimpy burned savagely. We skidded to a stop and flung our doors open. As I ran through the gap in the hedge and across the field, --- raced around the front of the van to join me. I could feel the heat on the surface of my eyes from
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the wall of leaping flame. The kite’s geodetics were like smashed and twisted bones stripped of their flesh. I ran on, over the cratered and churned earth. There was a reek of petrol, of ploughed earth, and of something else, sweetish, sickly, burned. An engine lay to one side, the prop grotesquely curled back.
Suddenly there was a ‘whumph!’ and I found myself on the ground. A petrol tank had exploded. I got up again and went towards the inferno that was raging under the smoke-pall. I splashed through a pool of something. I could hear Squadron Leader --- cursing somewhere nearby; I was gasping and sobbing for breath.. [sic] Then the oxygen bottles started to explode and bits of metal went screaming viciously past me. I tripped and fell heavily. And I saw I had fallen over something smoothly cylindrical, like an oversize sausage, bright brown, and with a smouldering flying boot at the end of it. A few feet away lay an untidy, horribly incomplete bundle of something in what looked like Air Force blue, lying terribly still under the stinking glare. I was retching, on all fours, unable to move further. I dimly heard another explosion nearby, sounding curiously soft, there was a blast of hot air on my face, and then there were the bells of the approaching fire-tender and ambulance.
I was being dragged by my shoulder. It was ---.
“Come on,” he panted, “we’ll never get near it. They’ve had it, poor bastards.”
We must have made our way back to the van as the rescue vehicles arrived; I don’t remember much about that part. I was leaning up against the side of the van and wiping my face with a shaking hand when I heard --- say, “Now I’ve got to go and tell the S.I.O. that his son was flying – that.”
“Oh, Christ,” I groaned.
“Let’s go,” he said, “Let’s get to hell out of here.”
He switched on the engine of the Utility as the black funeral pall of smoke spread over the sky, and thinning, smudged the sunset dirtily.
I read an article in a magazine recently. The writer had been visiting some place which had impressed her. She concluded with
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the words, “But you never lose an experience like that. You carry it around with you.”
Yes. And sometimes you feel you need just a little help to carry it just a little further.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] First Solo [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] FIRST SOLO [/underlined]
I drank some more beer and said to Connie, “The trouble with Shep is that he’s far too damned opinionated, and what’s much worse, he’s far too often right. You just can’t knock him down, can you?”
Afetr [sic] several pints in the White Hart I was feeling less in control than I might have been, but having given vent to that penetrating observation I felt quite foolishly and inordinately pleased with myself. Connie, who had also had several, perhaps for different reasons, looked at me a trifle owlishly.
“I say, Yoicks,” he said, slurring just a little, “that’s rather good. You’re dead right.”
“If you don’t mind, Connie,” I said, “I’d rather you didn’t use that word.”
“What word? What have I said?”
“Dead,” I replied.
At the time, Connie and I were busy settling into our new routine in ‘X’ Flight of the O.T.U. at Moreton-in-the-Marsh. The powers-that-be had decided that there were too many pilots in Ferry Flight just across the way, and not enough utility pilots in ‘X’ Flight. Squadron Leader ---, with barely disguised joy, had promptly nominated me for transfer. And perhaps because he knew Connie and I were close friends, he had selected him to accompany me.
“Utility” was the word for it. We flew Wellingtons on fighter affiliation exercises and on air-to-air gunnery, one pilot and a kite full of A.G.s who took it in turns to man the turrets. Fighter affiliation was by common accord reckoned to be gen stuff, that is, approximating to the real thing – mock attacks by the ‘X’ Flight Defiant, convincingly hurled around the sky by Cliff, at which the gunners “fired” their camera-guns. But the air-to-air lark, I always thought, was of very doubtful value. Our Lysander flew straight and level, towing on a cautiously long cable, a canvas drogue, at which the gunners fired live ammo. with prodigal enthusiasm. Doubtful value? I might have said “pointless” instead. How many Me109s or 110s obligingly flew alongside you at a convenient distance and invited
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you to have a shot at them? It was damn noisy, too, with both your turrets blazing away, and the smell of cordite lingered on your battledress for days.
Most of the time the Defiant or the Lysander, whichever was in action, was flown by Cliff. He was tallish, lean, dark-haired and casual, a Canadian Flight Sergeant, but a man who might have stepped straight out of a Western film. Like Connie, he too was entering the last few months of his life. Cliff, the casual, was soon to be killed over Hamburg in his Pathfinder Lancaster.
The other occasional pilot on the two single-engined kites was Hank, an American, a Flying Officer in the R.A.F., also casual and easy-going, but suave, where Cliff was slightly flinty. The two were inseparable, if only as inveterate gamblers. I learned a lot about the gentle art of shooting craps from Cliff and Hank. On days when there was no flying, when Bill, Connie and I would be lecturing the O.T.U. pupils on Flying Control systems, emergency procedures, dinghy drill and airfield lighting and also, in my case, on the layout of the multifarious internal fittings of the Wellington, Cliff and Hank would retire to a quiet corner of the hangar. Gambling was strictly prohibited by the R.A.F., of course, but the rattle of dice would faintly be heard, punctuated by urgent cries of “Box cars!” “Baby needs new shoes!” or “Two little rows of rabbit-shit!” Money was never seen to change hands, but now and again it was apparent, from the obvious tension which was building up between them, that the stakes were high.
Our happy little Flight was genially run by an Irish Flight Lieutenant named Bill. Bill was the very antithises [sic] of Squadron Leader --- whom I’d just left behind. He was a tall, gangling, rather awkward-looking pilot who affected a slightly vague nonchalance about life in general. One of his endearing little foibles was that he seldom, if ever, referred to an aircraft by its proper name. It was commonplace that all Wellingtons were Wimpies, and fairly common that Lysanders were Lizzies, but he extended these nicknames by referring to our Defiant as a Deefy.
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I sat in on his introductory lecture to a new Course, a dummy run for me before I took over the conducting of the wedding ceremony of sprog crews to the Wimpy. They had all come off Oxfords and it was a bit awe-inspiring at first to be confronted by the size and complexity of the Wellington at close quarters. Bill’s opening remarks were memorable. He lurched up on to the dais, which was, in our hangar, alongside a complete Wellington fuselage, stripped of its fabric, and also near a separate cockpit taken from another kite. He looked slowly around the faces in front of him, as though surprised to find himself there at all, then lit a cigarette, exhaled, beamed happily at our new charges, coughed softly, and in an unbelievably broad Ulster accent uttered the following pearl of wisdom and deep scientific truth.
“Well, now. This here – this here is a Wimpy, and –“ patting a mainplane as one would a favourite dog, and lowering his voice confidentially as he leaned forward earnestly towards them – “these are the wings. Now you’ll be wondering what keeps them on. But don’t you be worrying yourselves about that, ‘cos it’s ahll [sic] ahrganised.” [sic]
After that, he had our pupils in the hollow of his hand; they adored him, as we all did. Dear old Bill. Old? He was about twenty three.
Bill, Hank, Cliff, Connie and me. A nice mixture; one Northern Irishman, one American, a Canadian and two Englishmen. Then into our happy little world stepped a newcomer. Shep. Correction – he did not step, he never stepped. He would barge, blunder, or he would push, but step? No. However, he arrived, all right. That was the system all over. ‘X’ Flight had needed two pilots, so it got three. Shep was a stocky, powerful little Yorkshireman, darkish hair thinning a bit, snub-nosed, built like a prop forward and always with a challenging look shining from his eyes, as though to tell the world, “I’m only five foot six but don’t let that fool you, I’m little and good and I’m worth two of you.” In his manner of speaking he was blunt and earthy to the point of rudeness, but almost everything he said was accompanied by that challenging look and a grin, which took the edge off most of his outrageous remarks. While none of us, except perhaps Bill, were saints as regards our language, which was, when circumstances demanded it, bespattered with words we wouldn’t normally use in mixed
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company, not to mention the odd spot of blasphemy, Shep’s outpourings were liberally garnished with a single oath, namely, “bloody”, which, at times, he rather over-used, I’m afraid.
Like Connie, he had been on Stirlings in 3 Group, or rather, “them bloody Stirlin’s” and, of course, when he realised that he and Connie had that in common he attached himself firmly to the two of us. So our placid little duo became a slightly turbulent trio. Express an opinion which didn’t match Shep’s and, “Ah’m tellin’ you, you’re bloody wrong. Now listen ‘ere – “ and one would be corrected in no uncertain way.
On an occasion when flying was scrubbed for a couple of days due to bad weather, we found ourselves in the city of Oxford. We had a meal, and we also had several beers. When it came to the time to go for the train back to Moreton it was growing dusk and it became necessary to find our slightly alcoholic way from an unfamiliar side street to the railway station. There developed a slight divergence of opinion as to the correct course to steer; Connie and I were all for heading in a certain direction, but not so Shep. Oh, no.
“It’s not that bloody way, Ah’m tellin’ you, Ah’m bloody sure we passed that big buildin’ over there when we came in.”
Meekly, we followed him. And arrived at the railway station in a few minutes. That was Shep all over. A trip to Stratford-on-Avon followed, one Sunday, and we were regaled with a lecture on bloody Shakespeare, and also bloody Ann Hathaway. The trouble was that Connie and I were both reasonably ignorant about Shakespeare and all his works and couldn’t contradict, or even argue with Shep. It was a trifle frustrating, to say the least, at times.
I seem to recall that it was my idea in the first instance, to have a bash at the single-engined kites which we owned. I had been up with a crowd of gunners on fighter affil., no evasive action, of course, to give them practice in getting the Defiant in their sights long enough to get a picture of it. It was simply a question of flying a straight-line track along the line of the range for about forty miles and back again, while all the gunners had a shot. To be honest, it was pretty damn boring, except when one of the pupils,
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despite all my previous entreaties and warnings, would clumsily heave himself in or out of the rear turret and give the undoubtedly adjacent and awkwardly placed main elevator control shaft a hearty push or shove, whereupon we were all hurled up to the roof or on to the floor amid a torrent of curses, depending on whether the kite was forced suddenly into a climb or a dive. It broke the grinding monotony of straight and level flight, though, and once back into the correct attitude everyone had a good laugh about it, including me. Needless to say, the exercise was conducted at a very respectable altitude to allow for such eventualities, and also to give Cliff free rein to throw the Deefy around with considerable abandon.
I was stooging along at about six thousand feet on a day of pleasant sunshine while all this was going on around me, watching Cliff out of the corner of my eye as he screamed across and down beyond my starboard wingtip in a near-vertical bank which he would then convert into a steep turn and a rocket-like climb, before coming in at me again from some new angle. I was thinking that it was pretty to watch, and that he should have been a fighter boy. I thought also that I might well have been one, too, had I not had two early love-affairs, a distant one with the Wellington across the field at Sywell, the other with Betty who had suffered under the German bombing of her home town. But the germ of an idea was growing as the morning progressed and as I day-dreamed, holding the Wimpy on course over the placid Gloucestershire landscape while the white puffs of cumulus drifted lazily by on their summer way.
When I’d finally finished the detail and landed back at Moreton I disgorged my crew of gunners and wandered into Bill’s office. He was sitting there doing his best to look like Lon Chaney on one of his off-days.
“Hello, Bill,” I said, “have you got a minute?”
“Sure, Junior, me boy,” he replied, “and what would be on your mind, now?”
“Well, it’s like this,” I said thoughtfully, “I’ve been watching Hank and Cliff having all the fun chucking the Deefy and the Lizzie about –“ he had me doing it by this time – “ – and I was thinking I’d like to have a bash on them, too. I did my S.F.T.S. on Harvards,
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you know.”
“Did you now?” he answered thoughtfully, “well, well, let’s see.”
He lowered his voice confidentially and looked around conspiratorially. He pretended to be watching a Wimpy on the circuit.
“As a matter of fact,” he said quietly, “a little bird tells me that Hank might be leaving us soon.”
“Oh?” I said, not wanting to appear to be too inquisitive, and waited for him to go on.
“Yes,” he said, “apparently the Chief Instructor came across him and Cliffy rolling the bones in a quiet corner, and poor old Hank, him being the senior and an Officer and all, is going to be sent to the place where they send naughty boys.”
“But what a bloody stupid waste,” I exclaimed, “Hank’s a damn fine pilot. He goes and sticks his neck right out, volunteers for the R.A.F. when he had no need to, being a Yank, and just because he rolls a couple of dice they’re going to kick him up the backside. It seems damned childish to me.”
“Oh, he won’t be grounded for good, or anything like that, he’ll just do drill and P.T. and parades and so forth for a couple of weeks, then they’ll send him back on flying, somewhere. Anyhow, the point is, I could use another pilot or two for the Deefy and the Lizzie, so you and Connie and Shep might as well have a go. It wouldn’t be fair on them if I said O.K. to you and not to the other two.”
“No, of course not,” I said.
“There’s no dual controls, you realise that, don’t you, Junior? You’ll have to pick it up from a ride or two in the back seat and read up the Pilot’s Notes a bit.”
“I’ve already been genning up on them,” I grinned, “I think I know where all the taps are, it’s just a question of getting the feel of the things.”
“You crafty so-and-so,” Bill said, smiling. “O.K., then, you fix it all up with Cliffy and I’ll have a word with the other two. H’m. Is that the time? Neither of us are flying this afternoon, so how about a quick noggin before lunch?”
“Sound suggestion, Bill,” I said.
We walked up to the Mess together; I was feeling slightly excited at the thought of getting a couple of new types in my log-book. I suppose I liked the challenge.
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It was strange to be sitting jammed into the four-gun turret of the Defiant while Cliff flew it around the circuit and gave me the gen.
“She’s a bit of a heavy sonofabitch,” he drawled, “but she’s got no vices if you treat her right.”
To be honest, I couldn’t see anything of what went on in the cockpit in front of me, all I could do was to form some idea of the distances on the circuit, where to start reducing speed and where to put the wheels and flaps down, and to watch the landing attitude, of course. He did a couple of circuits and bumps for me and that was all we had time for on that session.
Soon afterwards, he gave me a ride in the Lysander. That was quite an entertaining experience. It was an ugly-looking parasol-wing kite with a big, chattery radial engine, wonderful visibility due to the high wing, a fixed undercart and ultra-short take-off and landing runs. It was fitted with God knows what in the way of trick slots and flaps. Take-off was incredible, it made me want to laugh out loud.
“The important thing,” said Cliff as we stood ticking over, ready to roll, “is to make sure you’ve got your elevator trim central for take-off – this wheel right here.”
I leaned over his shoulder and looked at the aluminium wheel down below his left elbow. It was the size of a small, thick dinner-plate, with a bright red mark painted across the rim as a datum.
“If you don’t have that centralised, like it is now, you’ll try to loop as soon as she gets airborne, then we’ll be having a whip-round for a goddam wreath for you. So watch it, bud.”
“O.K., Cliff,” I said, “I’ve got you.”
“Let’s go, then, eh?” he said, and opened the throttle. We seemed to be airborne in about fifty yards and climbed like a lift in a hurry. The runway simply dropped away below us. Compared to the Wellington’s take-off it was simply unbelievable.
“Hell’s teeth!” I said, “She really wants to go, doesn’t she?”
“Sure does,” he replied happily.
Landing was equally impressive. It seemed you just closed the throttle and the Lizzie did the rest. She was designed for Army
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co-operation duties, to land in any small, flat field. And, of course, they were used extensively for the cloak-and-dagger stuff, putting in our agents to western Europe by night and picking up others, all by the light of the moon and a couple of hand torches: that must have been quite something.
Cliff turned into wind.
“No undercart to worry about,” he called.
Suddenly there was an almighty ‘clonk’ and I almost snapped the safety harness as I jumped involuntarily.
“What the hell was that?” I asked.
“No danger, just the slots popping out at low speed. Now see, I’ve got the elevator trim wound right back. Get it?”
“O.K.,” I said, “Got it.”
We lowered ourselves down on to the runway and rumbled to a halt in a few yards.
“Bloody marvellous!” I exclaimed, “some kite, isn’t it?”
“Sure is,” said Cliff as we taxied in, “I wouldn’t mind one of these babies for myself, to take back home.”
“No trouble at all,” I replied, “they’ll be two a penny after the war, and with all the cash you’ve won at craps you’ll be able to afford a fleet of them.”
He laughed.
“Aw, well, we’ll have to see, when the time comes,” he said.
The time never came, of course.
You can guess who organised himself the first solo. You’re right, it was Shep.
“Ah’m flyin’ the bloody Lizzie in ten minutes,” he announced loudly, one day soon after, bustling into the hangar and crashing open his locker door.
“How’d you fix that?” Connie asked.
“Ah, well, Ah’m the best bloody pilot around here so Bill said it was only right Ah should have first bloody crack before either of you clumsy buggers bent it.”
“Get the Line-Book out!” I shouted, “Just listen to that – best pilot? You’re just a ham-fisted bus driver, you four-engined types are all alike!”
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“Steady on, Yoicks,” Connie said, “don’t include us all in that.”
“Well, some of you are ham-fisted,” I said. “Anyhow, let’s go and witness this demonstration of immaculate, text-book flying by our modest friend here.”
Shep grinned and slung his chute over his shoulder, then the three of us wandered down to the peri. track where our Lizzie was standing on the grass, looking quite docile and waiting for her pilot. Shep buckled his chute straps into the harness quick-release box, pulled on his helmet and heaved himself into the cockpit. Connie and I lit cigarettes while he started her up, ran up the engine and taxied out for take-off.
“When are you going to have a shot?” Connie asked.
“Tomorrow, in the Lizzie,” I replied, “I’m quite looking forward to it.”
Shep was ready for take-off. He opened her up and the bright yellow Lysander quivered and tolled, then she was airborne, climbing steeply and joyously. He took her nicely around the circuit, a much smaller one than the Wellington’s, of course. Connie and I watched critically, smoking and chatting. As he was on his landing approach Bill drifted along.
“How’s he doing?” he asked.
“Bang on,” I said, “just coming in now.”
Shep landed and taxied round to the start of the runway again. He had done all right, we agreed. No reason why I shouldn’t, too, I thought. Hurry up, tomorrow.
He stopped to let a Wimpy take off. The contrast was grotesque, the bomber using most of the runway and climbing very shallowly away over the trees as it tucked its wheels up, leaving behind it a blur of oily, brownish-black smoke.
Shep moved on to the runway into position for takeoff. It was a lovely afternoon, hardly any wind, a few puffs of cumulus at about four thousand feet. There was a slight haze over the low hills beyond the railway station. We heard him open her up and she rolled. He’d hardly got the tail up before he was airborne, nose-high. Then he was climbing steeply, the engine howling, the kite hanging on its prop.
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“Oh, sweet Jesus!” Bill said, very distinctly, next to me. I simply stopped breathing and watched. We were going to see Shep die in front of our eyes and were completely unable to do a thing to help him. Then, at the moment when it seemed he would inevitably stall and crash into the middle of the aerodrome from less than a hundred feet, he somehow got the nose down, and as he did so, painfully raised the starboard wing. The crazy, fatal climb changed slowly, so terribly slowly, into a steep turn to port. Shep was in a series of tight turns, at full throttle, right over the centre of the runway at about fifty feet. Gradually, the turns slackened, the note of the screaming engine eased. He flew over us, very low, still turning to port, but now more or less in control, obviously winding the trimmer frantically forward.
“Bloody hell!” Connie gasped, “I thought he’d had it that time.” I could only gulp and nod. I felt for a cigarette with hands which were shaking so much I could hardly open the case. My knees felt like water. Bill sighed and said quietly, “I’m afraid he didn’t do his cockpit drill. He forgot the elevator trim.”
We said nothing, but watched as Shep came in to land.
“Let’s go,” Bill said.
We went back to the Flight Office. Five minutes later Shep bustled in, a bit red in the face. He dumped his chute and helmet on to a chair.
“Bloody Lizzies!” he exploded wrathfully, “that bloody trimmer wants modifying, it’s a bloody menace!”
We could only look at one another in silence and amazement. Surely he would admit to being in the wrong, just this once?
Next day, Bill called for Connie and I and silently handed us a memo from the Chief Instructor.
“With immediate effect,” it said, “Lysander and Defiant aircraft of ‘X’ Flight will be flown only by the following personnel.
F/L W. McCaughan,
F/O H. Ross,
F/Sgt C. Shnier.”
Bill, Hank and Cliff. I handed the memo back to Bill.
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“Yes, Bill,” I said, “O.K., fair enough.”
So we flew Wimpies up and down the range and liked it, and we watched Cliff hurling the Defiant into gloriously abandoned manoeuvres in the late summer sky while we flew straight and level. And we gritted our teeth, and we liked it. But now and again I had a sneaking little thought – I wondered what would have happened if that had been me up there instead of Shep. Would I still be bouncing around, like he still was, or …..?
I know, of course, what became of poor Connie, and every year on the anniversary of the day it happened, I visit him where he lies. What happened to Shep, I don’t know, but I’m prepared to bet that whatever it was, he would have had the last word, or, as he would put it, the last bloody word. But really, he wasn’t such a bad bloke. As I said to Connie, you just couldn’t knock him down, that was all.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] The pepper pot [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] THE PEPPER POT [/underlined]
It must have been a surprise to Connie as, just when we were about to climb up the ladder into the Wimpy one fine morning, he saw me fold into a heap at his feet. I can’t say it was much of a surprise to me, I hadn’t been feeling too brilliant for some time before that.
Things then moved very quickly. The M.O. saw me and whipped me off to London for a medical board, where I was told quite pleasantly that my flying days were over as far as the Royal Air Force was concerned, and I was asked what I would like to do. No promises, of course. I said, “Intelligence, in Bomber Command.” That seemed to them a reasonable idea, as far as I could make out.
Then followed several completely idle weeks in Brighton in mid-winter, waiting to see what was going to happen to me. My days’ work consisted of reporting to the Adjutant in the Metropole at nine a.m., asking, “Anything for me?” being told, “No”, and that was it until next morning, when the routine was repeated. I was billeted in a little hotel on King’s Road, facing the sea, with three or four other R.A.F. types and one or two R.A.A.F types. There were a few civilians there, too, among them the comedian Max Miller, who, off-stage seemed to me to be distinctly un-funny, if not downright anti-social.
I made friends with a couple of other pilots, Aussies, John Alexander and Don Benn, who were on their way home. Don had crashed in a Beaufighter and injured his legs – his M.O. had said he should play some golf to strengthen them. As he had been a stockman in outback Queensland, the idea of his playing golf was rather amusing both to him and to me. But, as an utter tyro myself, I agreed to go around the lovely course, up on the Downs near Rottingdean, with him. At night, John and I would paint the town red in a mild sort of way, sometimes exercising the legs of the local police force. I caught a glimpse, one day, of Hank Ross, doing penance, marching in a squad of aircrew types along the front. It depressed me greatly. Hank looked desperately unhappy. I waved to him and he acknowledged
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me with only a sad little smile. I thought that if he had waved back, he would probably have been sent to the Tower. It still seemed desperately unjust. I never saw Hank again.
Eventually my course came through, to an Intelligence training centre in a big old house in Highgate. Some fairly hush-hush stuff went on there and we were forbidden to talk to anyone who wasn’t on our own course of about twenty. But one evening, in the anteroom, I was delighted and amazed to see dear old Tim, and made a bee-line for him, rules or no rules. We chatted for a few minutes until someone intervened. Next day I was kept behind after a lecture and given a severe reprimand, and although I saw Tim several times after that, I never spoke to him again while we were there. Not until we met, at Niagara Falls, almost fifty years later – two survivors.
During this time, Alan was called up for training amd [sic] I discovered he had reported to an Aircrew Reception Centre at St. John’s Wood. We met for half a day, had a long talk, a visit to the flicks and a meal at a strange and deserted Greek restaurant somewhere near Covent Garden.
The end of March found me posted as an Intelligence Officer to Linton-on-Ouse, where there were two Halifax Squadrons, one commanded, as I discovered when I arrived, by Wing Commander Leonard Cheshire. Soon afterwards, the Canadians were about to take over Linton and I accompanied one of the Squadrons to Holme-on-Spalding-Moor, in east Yorkshire. After a couple of weeks there, the S.I.O. decided that they were rather short-handed at the satellite Station, Breighton, where the other Squadron from Linton had settled in. So there, among the farm buildings of the nondescript but not unpleasant hamlet of Breighton, I put down roots for a few months. And there I met J - .
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I was pinning up the bombing photos of the previous night’s raid when I noticed he was there again. the Intelligence Library, no matter how we tried to dress it up, was never all that well-populated, and that morning was no exception. The photos usually drew a few
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interested crew members, Tee Emm was invariably popular, but the other stuff was really a bit on the dull side. There wasn’t, for example, a tremendous rush for the Bomber Command Intelligence Digest. Most of the crews, anyhow, were sleeping off last night’s trip, or last night’s session in the local, whichever was applicable.
This little gunner, though, I had seen him in there several times before, always at the same table near the door. It made me wonder. I suppose it was rather obtuse of me not to have cottoned, especially in view of my own feelings about J - . Anyhow, when I had put up the photos I went over to him, more out of curiosity than anything.
“Hello,” I said to him, “did you want something?”
He hesitated, then said, “I suppose – “
“Yes?”
“I suppose Sergeant S – isn’t on duty, is she?
I saw it all, then. One of our W.A.A.F. Watchkeepers, Billie S – was very much sought after for dates, and, it must be admitted, slightly blasé about the whole business. Rumour had it she was the daughter of a fairly high-ranking Army Officer in the Middle East. She was an extremely pleasant girl, blue-eyed, blonde and very nicely shaped, with a calm, almost angelic manner and a vibrant, husky voice which could send the odd shiver up your spine when she used it in conjunction with those big blue eyes of hers. But not my type. Now J - , one of the other two Watchkeepers, she was a different matter entirely. I had the feeling I was going to like Breighton very much indeed, even though I’d only been there just over a week.
“Sergeant S - ?” I said to him, “do you want to see her?”
(Bloody silly question, I thought, of course he did.)
“Well, if I could, just for a minute, if it’s no trouble.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I went back into the Ops. Room. Billie was purring at someone on the telephone and even then, unconsciously using her china-blue eyes expressively. Apart from her, there was only Margaret, one of the Int. Clerks, writing industriously. Billie hung up finally. I said, “Billie, there’s a gunner in the Int. Library would like
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a word with you.”
She wrinkled her nose just a little and said, “who is it, sir? Not that Sergeant P - ?”
“Don’t know his name,” I replied, “smallish chap, though, in Sergeant – ‘s crew, if I remember rightly.”
“Yes, that sounds like him, Johnny P - ,” she answered, with a faint sigh. She shrugged her shoulders and with a lift of her immaculately plucked eyebrows she said, “Would you mind, very much, sir?”
She sounded resigned.
“No, you go right ahead,” I said with a grin, “mind he doesn’t chew your ears off, though.”
She laughed quietly and went out, smoothing down her skirt over her hips as she went. Margaret was smiling quietly to herself and I cleared my throat rather noisily and started to sort out a pile of new target maps, mostly of Hamburg, I noticed. My tea had gone cold and I cursed it. Margaret looked up and laughed.
“Shall I get you some more, sir?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, Margaret, there’s a dear.”
She went out into the little store-room-cum-kitchen between the Ops. Room and the Int. Library, which we had been told recently to empty as far as possible. This had intrigued us greatly, but we asked no questions.
Billie came back, patting her blonde hair and looking a little flushed.
“Well,” I said, “have you been fighting like a tigress for your honour?”
“Oh, nothing like that, sir,” she replied with a smile, and left it at that, which was fair enough. Nothing at all to do with me, really. Margaret came back with teas all round. The war could continue. Billie got behind her switchboard, handed me a cigarette and did her usual pocket-emptying routine in search of a comb or a lipstick or something, as I lit her cigarette. The stuff that girl carried around with her.
The moon period came around and there weren’t any ops for a few days. Funny to think that when I had been operating a full moon was popularly known as a “bombers’ moon”. Now it was shunned as
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being too helpful to the German night-fighters. We more or less caught up with the outstanding stuff; the Watchkeepers got the S.D. 300 slap up to date and Pam spent a bit of time in the Library putting up some new stuff on the notice boards and going over some bomb-plots with the crews from the photos they had come back with. She mentioned casually that one of the gunners seemed to be spending a lot of time in there. I merely said “Oh, yes?” and looked blankly at her.
I got to know J – a little better during this time, and I knew that this was it. I was very pleased to see that she didn’t have an engagement ring on her finger. Our conversations progressed imperceptibly from one hundred per cent “shop” to a slightly more personal level. I found I was looking forward more and more to the times when she would be on duty, and I tried to fiddle it so that I was on at the same times. I also found that I was looking forward less than usual to my next leave, which would take me away from her for a week.
One afternoon, when things were quiet, I asked J – how Billie was coping with Johnny.
“Well, he’s very persistent,” she said, “he wants a date with her, but she’s doing her best to stall him off. Poor kid, what he really wants is his mother, you know.”
I nodded thoughtfully; I hadn’t seen it quite like that.
“So is Billie going to date him?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t know what she’ll decide,” J – said, “she’s tried her best to head him off, and all that, but he just shakes his head and keeps asking her to go out with him just once; what can she do?”
“Knowing Billie, I’m sure she’ll think of something,” I said, and we smiled at one another. I little suspected what in fact she was thinking of. Had I known, I would have slept less at nights than I was already doing, for various reasons.
Of course, I was thinking along the lines of asking J – for a date, too, but I was worried about rushing things. I had to pick my moment and I wasn’t sure just how to recognise when it had come. I would lie awake thinking it over, and thinking about J - , which just shows you what sort of state I was in.
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Two or three nights later I was on duty with Freda, the third of the Watchkeepers. Our aircraft had just gone off and we were relaxing a bit and wondering if we’d get any early returns. Freda had just finished phoning the captains’ names and take-off times through to Base at Holme-on-Spalding-Moor, along the road about eight miles, when the phone rang.
“It’s Billie, for you, sir,” Freda said.
“For me, Freda?”
“Yes, sir, she asked for you.”
I thought Billie must have forgotten to finish something on her last shift and wanted to square it with me, or get Freda to do it while she was on duty.
“Hello, Billie,” I said into the phone, “what’s the gen?”
“Oh, hello, sir,” came her creamy, purring voice, “can I ask you a favour?”
I still thought it was going to be something to do with work.
“Of course,” I answered blithely, little knowing that my whole life was in the process of being changed from that very second.
“Well, sir, I’ve got a date with someone tomorrow night, and to be perfectly honest about it, I’d rather make it into a foursome. So would you be willing to come along?”
“Hell’s teeth, Billie,” I said, “this is a bit of a surprise, isn’t it? But never mind, yes, O.K., you can count me in on it.”
“Oh, thank you very much, I knew you wouldn’t let me down, it’s such a load off my mind. You’re sure you’ve no objections?”
“No, of course I don’t mind, I’m game for anything,” I said brightly. “It isn’t Johnny, by any chance, is it?”
“Well, sir, as a matter of fact, it is,” she said confidentially. “I couldn’t very well get out of it and I thought it would be best if I tried to organise a foursome – the Londesborough Arms in Selby, if that’s all right with you. By the way, I’ve got some transport laid on from the W.A.A.F. guardroom to get us there, seven o’clock, assuming there’s a stand-down, of course, but we’ll have to make our own way back, so it’s bikes all round. We can push them on to the lorry to go to Selby.”
“Sounds bang-on,” I said.
Billie started to make end-of-conversation noises and was obviously about to hang up on me.
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“Just hold on a sec., Billie,” I chipped in quickly, “there’s just one small detail I’d like to get clear – who am I taking along?”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that, sir,” she said airily, “I’m sure I can find someone nice for you. Thank you very much indeed.”
She put the phone down.
I lit a cigarette and drank a mug of tea thoughtfully, letting my imagination give me a pleasant few minutes until we got a call from Flying Control that we had an early return coming back. So, for the time being, at any rate, I put the thought of my blind date aside. When the main body of our aircraft came back, one of the crews I interrogated happened to be that of Johnny P - . His pilot was a chunky bloke with a staccato manner. Johnny just sat there quietly smoking and saying nothing, but looking silently into infinity, as though he’d never seen me, or his crew, before. It was a bit weird. Finally, Pam, Derek and I got the Raid Report completed and bunged it off to Holme by D.R. I got to bed about 0400.
I was awake again with just about enough time to cycle down to breakfast. It was a miserable morning, ten-tenths low cloud and raining like the clappers. But J – was on duty and the day seemed to brighten when I saw here. Pam was photo-plotting as hard as she could and I got my head down, alongside her, over the mosaic photograph, about four feet by three, of last night’s target. No-one said very much. The blackboard had been cleaned off, in readiness for the next one. The photo-plotting took a long time, there was so little ground detail on the crews’ pictures due to cloud-cover over the target. About ten-thirty we got a stand-down through; J – phoned it around to those who were concerned. Buy lunch time we’d only plotted about half a dozen photos. One thing about the Ruhr – if you missed the aiming-point you usually hit something or other in the way of a built-up area. It was a consolation.
At lunchtime the rain had eased and there were even a few breaks in the cloud to the west. Derek took over from me about two-thirty and promptly plotted one of the photos to within a couple of hundred yards of the A.P., from a sliver of ground detail you could hardly see.
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“Beginner’s luck,” I said laughingly, and went off for a sleep. I hit the mattress and knew no more for a couple of hours. When I awoke, it took me a few seconds to remember that I was going on a blind date that evening, but suddenly I felt unreasonably, unaccountably happy, swept along by a wave of well-being which had me whistling “Tuxedo Junction” and singing snatches of “Sally Brown” as I got myself spruced up and into my best blue. I don’t know why I should have felt like that; possibly as someone once said, the mood of flying men changes with the weather, and outside, I saw that the sky had cleared to a beautiful evening.
“Sally Brown is a bright mulatto,” I sang,
“Way, hey, we roll and go –
“She drinks rum and chews tobacco,
“Spend my money on Sally Brown!”
Which started me wondering, again, who my date would be. I honestly hadn’t a clue, Billie had given me no inkling whatsoever, but I trusted her implicitly not to saddle me with some worthy but plain girl who would spend the evening painfully tongue-tied and twisting her fingers together. Never mind, I thought, it’s quite a change for me and at least we might all have one or two laughs together and try to forget about ops and casualties for a couple of hours. At five to seven I was trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, twenty yards or so from the W.A.A.F. guardroom, and trying also to think up a convincing story to tell the W.A.A.F. (G) Officer if she should appear and want to know what I was doing. As I was looking at my watch for the third or fourth time I heard a soft, musical voice say, “Hello, are we each other’s date?” and there she was, there was J - , looking quite wonderful.
My heart skipped a couple of beats, I could feel myself blushing scarlet and I found I was grinning foolishly. I managed to stammer something trite, or perhaps merely stupid. Anyhow, J – laughed, and I laughed with her, more or less in relief. I felt a bridge had been crossed, or at least, built.
Everything happened pretty swiftly after that. Billie and Johnny P – cycled breathlessly up, a fifteen-hundredweight lorry with several
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assorted aircrew on board screeched to a halt, and accompanied by a chorus of piercing wolf-whistles, Johnny and I loaded the four cycles on to the lorry, helped the girls up and scrambled aboard ourselves. Loud cries of “Let’s get airborne!” and “Chocks away!” and we were off, racing over the wet roads under the trees, through the village, being thrown companionably and tightly against one another as the driver took corners at some speed, and away to Selby, the nearest town of any size.
It turned out to be rather a dingy little place, I thought, but the pub itself was clean and surprisingly quiet, no Breighton types, or indeed no uniforms at all, apart from ours, to be seen. The evening went by in a blur which was only partly due to the intake of alcohol. Billie was her usual polished and poised self and Johnny never took his eyes off her. He looked like a thirsty man approaching an oasis. Such an unremarkable little chap to look at, a mere five feet six or seven, mousy, rather untidy brown hair, slim built like we all were on wartime rations and high levels of stress, but with an infectious grin which would suddenly light up his plain features.
What J – and I talked about I cannot for the life of me remember; I was completely bowled over by the simple fact of listening to her cool, musical voice. I think we talked about books and cricket, but had we simply sat in silence, that would have ensured my complete happiness, merely to be at her side, in her charming company. Considering the rationing position, we had a very good meal in the small, half-empty dining room. I remember how spotlessly white the tablecloth was. Johnny demonstrated his talents as an amateur conjuror, palming small objects and plucking them out of our ears, and so on. We had all had two or three drinks by then and our laughter came fairly freely. He did one small, silly trick with the chromium pepper pot, holding it between his fingers and rushing it down towards the table in the representation of a bomb’s rushing it down towards the table in the representation of a bomb’s trajectory, with the accompanying piercing whistle. We all duly made “boom” noises when it hit the cloth – except that it didn’t, it was no longer to be seen.
Eventually it was time to go. We undid the locks on our cycles in the twilight of the summer evening, and by tacit agreement, split
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up into two couples. J – and I didn’t hurry, tomorrow could take care of itself and we never saw Billie and Johnny again that evening. On the way back we stopped at a field-gate by the edge of a copse and leaned our elbows on the top bar, side by side, to watch the sickle moon slowly rise. One or two aircraft droned distantly in the starry vault of the darkening sky and we followed the nav. lights of one of them until they vanished into the haze and all was silent again, except for some small animal rustling his nocturnal way through the undergrowth. We didn’t talk much, I think we were both content with the magic of the still night and with each other’s presence and new-found companionship.
As we stood there, I tentatively put my arm around her shoulders and that small overture was not repulsed. We talked about Johnny.
“Do you know any of his crew?” I asked J - .
“Some of them,” she answered, “they seem nice lads. Johnny’s lucky to have a crew like that.”
“Yes,” I said, “he is. It’s a very special sort of relationship, there’s nothing quite like it.”
She turned to look at me.
“Your own crew, do you keep in touch with them?”
So I told her. She put a hand on my arm.
“I’m dreadfully sorry, I really had no idea that had happened.”
We cycled back to Breighton. I felt a great peace stealing over me. We stopped at the now deserted road by the W.A.A.F. guardroom.
“It’s been a lovely evening,” J – said, “thank you so much for it.”
“I’m the one who should thank you,” I said, “for putting up with me.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t say that, please. Anyhow, I must go now.”
She hesitated. Her lips, when I kissed her, were cool and sweet, like dew on a rosebud.
The next morning Base Ops., in the shape of Flight Lieutenant Smith, came on the phone.
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“Is that you, Breighton?” he asked in his dried-up schoolmaster’s voice. He would seldom, if ever, call you by your own name, you were only “Breighton” to him. I sometimes wondered what he called his pupils and more especially, whether he called his wife by her surname. So I was always deliberately and exaggeratedly casual in reply to him, just to irritate him.
“Yeah, Smithy, this is the Acting Unpaid Senior Int./Ops Officer, at your service. What can I do you for?”
Smithy was not amused. He sniffed loudly.
“We’re sending you some parcels. Store them in your little kitchen place, or whatever you call it. Don’t open them. That’s important, but keep them under lock and key until you’re told what to do with them, and keep the key on your person at all times. Is that understood?”
“Cloak and dagger stuff, eh, Smithy?”
He sniffed again and went on.
“Expect them in about half an hour. They go under the name “Window.” Is that quite clear, Breighton?”
“Yeah, I’ve got it.”
He rang off and I mused a little, wondering what on earth it could be that was so secret and new.
A sheeted-over lorry arrived from Holme and we started to unload the innocent-looking brown-paper parcels, the size of shoe boxes, and quite heavy, too. We all pitched in and got the lorry emptied eventually. By this time you could just about squeeze up to the sink in there to make the tea. Which one of the girls did, as we needed some by then. I dutifully locked the door on the bundles but I could see this was going to be a real bind, so we laid on tea-making facilities with the W.A.A.F.s in the telephone exchange, next to the Ops Room, and moved our few mugs and kettle and so on in with them.
When things had quietened down and I thought no-one would notice particularly, I slipped quietly in to the Window Store, as I was now mentally calling it, locked the door carefully behind me and took down one of the parcels. Very carefully I made a small slit in one corner of the wrapping paper so that it would look like accidental damage. I looked inside. There were hundreds, or perhaps thousands,
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of what seemed to be paper strips, about an inch wide and a foot or so long, matt black on one side, silvered on the other. My first thought was that they were some new form of incendiary device. I sniffed them – no smell. What on earth could they be? Was it something to dazzle the searchlights, then? In that case, why weren’t both sides shiny? I could get no further with my theorising, but as it happened I was somewhere on approximately the right lines. I carefully replaced the bundle and went back into the Ops Room, not forgetting to lock the door behind me as I left the thousands of bundles of Window. I put on an innocent expression and started to whistle “Sally Brown”.
“Quite a nice day out there,” I said. I wonder if I fooled them.
The mysterious Window wasn’t a mystery for much longer. A couple of days later we got a target through, quite early on, which was a sign that the weather was going to be settled. Hamburg. Hence all those new target maps. And when the operational gen came through, bomb load, route and timings and so on, right at the end was the magic word Window. It was to be carried by all aircraft. The number of bundles per aircraft was stated, as were the points on the route where dropping was to start and finish. The dropping height and the rate of dropping was stated, everything was laid down. Then we guessed it. It was a radar-foxing thing.
“Let’s hope it works,” we said to one another.
Derek did the briefing and I went along to listen, sensing that this might be an historic occasion. The Station Commander stood up on the platform first, and conversation stopped abruptly. He looked slowly around the blacked out briefing room in the Nissen hut. You could have heard a pin drop.
“Gentlemen,” he said, very slowly and quietly, “the intention of tonight’s operation is to destroy the city of Hamburg.”
The silence was so intense you could almost feel it. He went on to say that they would be carrying a new device which would save us many casualties if it was used strictly in accordance with instructions, and he told them about Window, which was designed to swamp the enemy radar screens with hundreds of false echoes, each one looking like a four-engined bomber.
Well, as far as Breighton was concerned, it worked like a charm that night. When the crews came back, and the Squadron’s all did,
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they were highly elated about the results of the attack and the lack of opposition. Few fighters had been sighted, flak was wildly inaccurate and spasmodic and the searchlights were completely disorganised and erratic. The photographs proved their elation was well-founded.
Three days later it was Hamburg again, and my turn to brief them. I caught a glimpse of Johnny, sitting about three rows back, still with that distant look on his face, as though this had nothing to do with him. I mentioned this to J – when we met on night duty, the first time I had seen her since the night we had gone to Selby.
“I’ve noticed it, too,” she said, “I don’t know what it is with him. Maybe it’s because of Billie, of course, he’s absolutely overboard for her. She’s changed too, she’s gone much quieter than she was.”
“Yes, I’d noticed that,” I said, “funny what love does to you, isn’t it?”
I gave J – a sideways look. She had coloured just a little, but smiled and said nothing. We were in the lull before take-off time. We talked about the possible effects of Window on this second raid on Hamburg. We did not know it at the time, of course, but this night was to be known as the night of the fire-storm, when hurricane-force winds, caused by the immense uprush of air from the fires, were to sweep their flame-saturated way through the city, even uprooting trees which had stood in their path. And there were still two further raids to come in the next week, plus an American daylight attack thrown in for good measure.
“Did you notice the bomb-load was almost all incendiaries?” I asked J - .
“Yes, I did,” she replied, “I wouldn’t be in Hamburg tonight for all the tea in China; imagine, almost eight hundred aircraft with full loads of incendiaries.”
“Make them think a bit,” I said. “You know, J - , what I can’t understand is why they just don’t give in now, surrender while they’ve still got some towns which are fit to live in; it’s quite obvious that we’re just going to work our way through the list one by one and flatten all his cities – I can’t think why he will just allow this to happen.”
We talked, smoked and drank tea far into the night. When they came back, the crews’ elation was now tinged with awe. No-one had
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ever seen such tremendous fires, “a sea of flame” was a common description by the crews, with a smoke pall towering to above twenty thousand feet; you could smell it in the aircraft, some said.
It was either on one of the big Hamburg raids or very soon afterwards that Johnny P – ‘s crew did not come back. I have to admit, in shame, that they were, as far as my feelings were concerned, just one of the many that we lost – all good, brave lads, but now almost anonymous in their terrible numbers, like the headstones in a war-graves cemetery seen from a distance. I knew only few of them personally; when it happened, I felt the pang of the loss, but the impact was not so great, God forgive me, as that of the loss of a crew on my own Squadron, of men whom I had been flying alongside, or with. Perhaps there is a limit to the sorrow one can truly absorb and bear, perhaps a saturation point is reached when the loss of men becomes a ghastly normality, where the mind begins to accept it as part of the natural order of things. But later – then it will suddenly all strike home in some unguarded moment, with full savage impact, as it has done, many times since.
When the last crew had been interrogated the night that Johnny went missing I saw Billie standing to one side, pale as chalk, gazing wordlessly at the faces around her, waiting for Johnny, who would never bother her again. I went over to her and touched her shoulder.
“Try to get some sleep, Billie,” I said, “he may have landed away, you know.”
It was all I could say. She nodded miserably.
She was on duty next morning, when we started the photo-plotting, tense, deadly pale, her eyes haunted by heaven knows what dreadful visions. I had given her a cigarette and taken one myself when the clerk handed me something or other and distracted my efforts to produce my lighter. Billie said quietly, “I’ll get mine,” and, typically, dumped a load of stuff from her pocket on to the desk. It wasn’t a lighter which she’d got out, though, it was a chromium pepper pot. I froze. She clapped a handkerchief to her mouth and rushed blindly out of the Ops Room as we sat silent and motionless.
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Later that day I met J – outside the village church.
“Shall we go inside?” she said.
We stepped into the dimness of the nave. My mind was still on Johnny.
“The way he looked,” I said softly to J - , “do you think perhaps he knew?”
“Perhaps,” she said, “perhaps he did.”
It was cool and quiet in there. J – knelt in a pew and bowed her head; I knelt alongside her so that our sleeves touched. Somehow, I felt I needed that nearness of her. A Prayer Book was at each place; there was just enough light left to read. I opened the book and came upon Psalm 91.
“Thou shalt not be afraid for any terror by night: nor for the arrow that flieth by day. A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.”
J – ‘s face was calm, next to me, as I thought of Johnny, and of all the others. After a while I closed the book and slowly stood up. I took J – gently by the hand and we walked out, shutting the heavy oak door behind us, into the dim, evening green-ness of the churchyard and the faraway sound of engines in the summer twilight, as the first stars were beginning to appear.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Approach and Landing. [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] APPROACH AND LANDING [/underlined]
With the inevitablity [sic] of an experience of déja vu, it unrolled itself with preordained certainty in my dream, as completely familiar as the action of a film one has seen often before, slowly remembering it in all its detail, and on waking and thinking afresh about it, I realised with some surprise that I had never written about, or even spoken to anyone about this particular event – since the time that J – and I talked about it, that is – one which both at the time it happened and since that time, I had always privately marvelled – and shuddered at what might have been.
At night in the Ops. Room at Breighton, once 78 Squadron’s Halifaxes had taken off there was little to do for whoever was on duty. Normally there was one Int./Ops. Officer – that is, Pam, Derek or myself – one duty Watchkeeper, a W.A.A.F. Sergeant, Billie, Freda or J - , and an Ops. Clerk. There was time to catch up on all sorts of things which of necessity had to be shelved during the process of assisting perhaps twenty or so aircraft to take off, adequately prepared and correctly informed, to bomb some target in the Third Reich. There was, naturally, time to chat, time to drink tea and to smoke endless cigarettes while the hours crawled by until the tension of the time of the first aircraft due into the circuit approached. And when J – and I were on duty together (and I took some pains to ensure that we often were) the conversations were naturally more relaxed, more personal.
It was on one such occasion, when the names of people one had known in the Service were casually dropped into the talk like snowflakes on to a pond, to exist for an instant and then to vanish and to be almost forgotten, that one name struck a chord between us.
I mentioned F – ‘s name quite casually, as that of someone I had known well by sight but not personally, a pilot on our sister Squadron at Binbrook eighteen months before, and who was the central character in a very highly skilled but very high-risk piece of flying which I had witnessed from, literally, a grandstand seat, and which, these many years later, was the subject of my dream.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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At Binbrook, when operations were on, it was necessary to have what was termed a Despatching Officer, one who was not flying on that operation. He was provided with a light van and a driver, and was to ensure that in this van there was contained every conceivable piece of necessary equipment which any member of any crew flying on the operation was likely to find to be unserviceable or to have forgotten prior to takeoff – articles such as flying helmet, goggles, oxygen mask, intercom. leads, the various essential maps and charts, and so on. In the event of a sudden radio call from an aircraft to the Flying Control Officer on duty in the Watch Office that some such was required. The Despatching Officer would be driven rapidly to the relevant aircraft’s dispersal to deliver the required piece of equipment.
On one particular late winter’s afternoon, although both Squadrons were operating, my own crew was not among those detailed. And I was designated on the Battle Order as Despatching Officer. There was, as it happened, no call for my services and the Wellingtons started to take off, using one of the shorter runs, roughly north-west to south-east and passing within two or three hundred yards of the Watch Office. Once that I was certain that nothing was required, I went into the Watch Office and up on to the balcony to watch the aircraft taking off, bound for some target – I cannot recall which – across the North Sea.. All had left the ground and were on their way, vanishing into the evening sky to the east, when there was a call over the R/T from one of them which had just crossed the English coast. It was that piloted by F - .
One of his main undercarriage wheels, the port wheel, could not be retracted. He was climbing away with one wheel locked into the ‘up’ position and one which would not join it. Apparently he could neither retract the wheel which was locked down nor lower again the wheel that was retracted. He was carrying a 4000 lb. High Capacity blast bomb, irreverently and casually known to us as a ‘Cookie’. His Commanding Officer, watching take-off from the Watch Office, called him up on the R/T and ordered him to jettison the Cookie into the North Sea, then to return to the aerodrome to attempt what would have been, in any case, a fairly hazardous
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landing with a full petrol load. But it was the only possible and sensible procedure in these unfortunate and unhappy circumstances.
But F – was very much his own man. I knew him, from a distance, almost as the reincarnation of a cavalier of King Charles’ day, dark, good looking, dashing, individualistic, the complete extrovert. He might well have served as the model for Frans Hals’ “The Laughing Cavalier”. He replied – to his C.O., mark you – that he intended to bring his bomb back with him. Then, apparently, Wing Commander K - , his C.O. and he exchanged words and observations of some sort. But F - , literally in the driving seat, was adamant and persuasive enough to have his way. We waited rather breathlessly for what might transpire, as well as what his C.O. might say to him, should he, in fact manage to return safely.
After a short while, all the aircraft operating having cleared the area, we heard the note of F – ‘s Twin Wasp engines, as noisy as four Harvards, which is saying something. He appeared on the circuit, a grotesque and unsettling sight. To those of us who have flown aircraft, especially Wellingtons, it is an almost unconscious reaction on seeing any aircraft in the air, to project oneself, as it were, into the cockpit, holding the controls, glancing at the blind-flying panel’s telltale instruments, and in this case, in F – ‘s case, seeing the wretched sight of one green light and two reds in the trio of small undercarriage warning light on the dashboard.
There were now five or six of us on the Watch Office balcony and we watched tensely as F – steadily made his circuit and, throttling back, commenced his final approach. His particular aircraft, in common with a few on both Squadrons’ strengths, had been modified to carry a ‘cookie’, which was essentially a railway locomotive boiler, thin-skinned and packed with high explosive. The bomb was too deep to be accommodated in the normal Wellington bomb-bay, so the modification consisted in suspending it in a rectangular hole like an upturned, lidless coffin without bomb-doors, in the underside of the aircraft. And the bomb was by no means flush with the aircraft’s belly, it protruded, throughout its entire length, by several inches, horrifyingly open to flak, machine gun bullets, cannon-shells – or a belly landing. The sensitivity of the weapon was legendary, the name “blockbuster” applied
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to it by the press was completely apposite.
So F – made his approach, one wheel up, one down, a grotesque and unpleasant sight, the cookie protruding ominously. Why we stood there watching, goodness only knows. Perhaps we were simply too fascinated to move or perhaps we were quite unthinking as to what the outcome might be, should there be an accident, a bad landing, and the cookie were to explode. If that had been the case, I would not be writing this. Or perhaps we were just plain stupid or reckless not to have sought cover.
The aircraft slowly slid down its final approach in the quickly-fading daylight. We watched and waited, almost holding our breath. I remember lighting a cigarette with a hand which was not altogether steady. Then, holding the starboard wing over the ‘missing’ wheel well up, F – touched down, it must have been lightly, on the port wheel only, the engines throttled back to a tick-over. Miraculously, he kept the aircraft straight. We hardly dared look at the protruding cookie. As the Wellington slowed the starboard wing slowly drooped, and finally, at the end of the aircraft’s run, the wing finally scraped the runway, the Wellington slewed around through ninety degrees to starboard and came to a lopsided rest. The fire tender and ‘blood wagon’ raced up, but neither, thankfully, were needed.
It would be trite to say that we breathed again but I am sure that there were some of us who in the final seconds of the touch-down and landing run were actually holding our breath. We stood there, the small group of us, on the balcony, potentially exposed to what would have been a blast-wave of killing proportions not only for us, but for many quite far distant from the runway. Perhaps the fact that we stayed to watch was even due a degree of professional interest in the expertise of one of our peers. But the visual memory of F – ‘s landing that evening has remained with me as something at which to marvel.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
“Oh! Did you know F - , then?” J – asked, that night in the quiet Ops. Room at Breighton.
[page break]
“Only by sight” I replied, then I told her about the landing.
“I will never forget that, I assure you. You knew him, too, then?” I added. J – nodded.
“Oh yes, who didn’t? He was quite a character, wasn’t he?”
“’Was’?”
“Yes. Perhaps you didn’t know he had been killed at --- .” She named an aerodrome not too far distant.
Apparently F – had taken off on a non-operational flight. On board was also an A.T.A. girl pilot and the aircraft had, for some unknown reason, crashed, killing everyone on board. J – mentioned that there was a certain theory concerning something which might have been a contributory factor to the tragedy. I will not set down here what that theory was. But I shall continue to remember F – as I knew him at Binbrook, debonair, dashing, cavalier-like and above all, just that bit larger than life, and possessed of flying skills to which few of us could ever hope to aspire.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Knight’s move [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] KNIGHT’S MOVE [/underlined]
“One sang in the evening
Before the light was gone:
And the earth was lush with plenty
Where the sun shone.
The sound in the twilight
Went: and the earth all thin
Leans to a wind of winter,
The sun gone in.
One song the less to sing
And a singer less
Who sleeps all in the lush of plenty
And summer dress.”
“Casualty”
from “Selected Poems” by
Squadron Leader John Pudney.
Once I had seen the hangar, intact, black and huge, just over the hedge as I rounded the bend of the lane, everything seemed to fall into place, even after so many years.
Everything, except, of course, that J – was gone. I shut my eyes for a moment and forced my thoughts away from her. God knew what became of Pam, and as for Derek, I never heard of him for years after I left Breighton. But now I had, for the first time, come back. Seeking what? I could find no answer to that in my mind, except that I had obeyed some inner compulsion to revisit the place and that somehow it seemed to bring me some peace and calm of spirit to be back there amid the quiet hedges, the ruined buildings, the memories, and the silent, empty sky, where among so many losses I had, with deep feelings of the unique guilt of the survivor, found
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my personal happiness when so many had lost everything, for ever.
I walked down the empty road in the warm October sunshine, past what remained of the East-West runway, and marvelled at the utter silence. The little river at the edge of the road slipped silently over its green weeds and I remembered Gerry, how he had aborted a takeoff one night, smashed through the hedge and across the road and had finished up with the aircraft’s nose almost in that river. Amazingly, they had missed everything solid and had all walked away from it. I smiled to myself as I recalled how everyone in the Mess had kidded him about it the following morning.
The Mess itself was till there, pretty well intact. One or two broken panes in the windows, the buff-coloured walls reflecting the warmth of the sun, the porch by now overgrown with tall weeds around which a bee idly buzzed. Now, no bicycles leaned against its walls, there was no C.O.’s car parked, no battledressed figures walked in and out, calling to one another – there was just the brilliant sunshine and the utter silence. And then, as I visualised the inside of the Mess, its layout, its half-remembered faces; I thought of the events of such another day of sunshine all that time ago. I saw the interior of the anteroom, the small table with the chessmen on their board, the young bomb-aimer sitting opposite me, frowning with concentration as we played, then looking at his watch and standing up reluctantly, the cracked record, “I’ve gotta gal, in Kalamazoo”. “Shall we finish it tomorrow?” I had said to him.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
My part of the briefing came second, as usual, after the Wingco had told them the target and shown them over the route on the wall-map. Most of the crews weren’t really interested in the industries, population or the other standard Intelligence gen which I served up to them, and I didn’t blame them; their main concern was what the defences were like – and, privately, whether they would get back. They were silent when I pointed out the flak and searchlight belt around the target, and a few night-fighter aerodromes near to their route. There were one or two whistles when I told them
[page break]
how many aircraft were on that night; it was quite a big effort and craftily organised so that there were two targets, the stream of kites splitting up abreast of and between the two towns, then turning away from each other to attack their respective targets some sixty miles apart. There were also elaborate Mosquito spoof attacks to draw off the enemy fighters from the main force.
“We hope that will fox the defences,” I concluded.
When briefing was over I left the hubbub and snatches of nervous laughter from the crews and cycled down to the Ops Room in the summer afternoon to try to finish plotting last night’s bombing photos. One of our Halifaxes was on his landing approach, another was on the downwind leg with his undercart lowered. One of their engines was slightly desynchronised and it made a throbbing note above the steady roar. The sun was very bright, the trees were a deep green above the huts and the houses of the village and it was warm.
One of the bombing photos was holding us up. There was only a small fragment of ground detail, more or less one block of houses, visible in the usual mess of smoke, cloud, bomb bursts, flak and fires. Pam was having a go at it when I arrived.
“Any luck?” I asked, throwing my cap on the table.
“Not yet,” she said, “but it must be somewhere near the aiming point because there’s so much going on in the photograph.”
We stewed over the mosaic for a time, trying to fit the photo in, which would enable us to discover where the aircraft had dropped his load of bombs. Pam looked along the approach side to the A.P., I took the exit side. Finally, I had it placed.
“Oh, good,” Pam said rather wearily, and stretched.
I measured the distance carefully.
“Can you give him a ring in the Mess, Freda?” I asked the duty Watchkeeper, “he’ll be wanting to know. Tell whoever you speak to that they were about a thousand yards from the A.P., would you?”
After that, we generally tidied up from last night’s effort, and as far as we could, from tonight’s preparations. I did a last minute check that the Pundit was in the right place and set to flash the correct letters, and that the resin lights on the aircraft were the correct colour combination. About six o’clock I went down to the Mess, put my feet up and relaxed. There were several battledressed and white sweatered chaps clumping about in their heavy, soft-soled flying boots, trying not to smoke too much, mostly a bit pale and rather quiet.
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Dinner was much as usual, no-one had very much to say to anyone else, at least among the crews who were on. Derek came in and said he was going up to relieve Pam on duty.
“See you before take-off,” I told him.
“What the heck for?” Derek asked, “there’s no need – why don’t you get some sleeping hours in till they come back?”
“Oh, I don’t know; I might as well be up there,” I said, not wanting him to know that J – and I had a sort of thing starting. I hoped so, anyhow. She would be taking over from Freda about now. I’d taken her out a couple of times and I thought she was pretty wizard; we seemed to speak the same language. Had to be a bit careful, though, the R.A.F. was touchy about male Officer – W.A.A.F. N.C.O. relationships. You could easily find that one of you was suddenly posted to Sullom Voe or somewhere like that, and the other to Portreath, or worse still, overseas.
I went into the anteroom. Someone had the radiogram going. It was Glenn Miller and the Chattanooga choo-choo on Track 29. I settled down with Tee Emm at a table where someone had left the chess board and pieces, and was chuckling over P/O Prune’s latest effort when a voice said, “Do you play?”
I looked up. He was a P/O Bomb-aimer, rather stocky, darkish, with his name on the small brown leather patch sewn above the top right-hand pocket of his battledress, his white, roll-necked sweater and half-wing looked rather new, I thought.
“Sure,” I said, “but not very well, I’m afraid. I’ll give you a game, though, if you like.”
“I’m not very good myself,” he said.
As we were setting out the pieces, “Who are you with?” I asked. He named his skipper.
“He’s good; flies these Hallies like Spits!” he said, laughing. For an instant, the lines of stress on his face were smoothed out in the snatched and fleeting relaxation of the moment, so that instead of looking like a young man, he looked like a very young one.
“Yes, I know the name,” I said, “I think I’ve plotted one or two of your photos recently. How many have you done?”
“Six”, he answered.
There was nothing I could say to that. Thirty trips was a hell
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of a way off when you’d done six.
He chose white from the two pawns I held in my closed fists.
“Off you go, then,” I said.
He opened conventionally enough, pawn to king’s fourth, pawn to queen’s third, and so on, and as we played I could tell we were both about the same calibre, on the poor side of indifferent. After a while, he started looking at his watch a lot and I could see his concentration was beginning to fade, but his knight was going to have my bishop and rook neatly forked, so I knew I was in for a bit of trouble. He sighed and said, “That’s about it for now, I’m afraid, I’ll have to get weaving up to the Flights.”
I said, “O.K., then, shall we finish it tomorrow? I’ll make a note of the positions, if you like.”
“Yes,” he said, “fine,” and got to his feet. “Thanks for the game.”
“Enjoyed it,” I said, and gave him the usual and universal Bomber Command envoi, “Have a good trip.”
“Sure, thanks,” he said, gave a half-wave and went out.
I watched him go. He looked rather like a schoolboy who had been sent for by the Head. A slightly cracked record on the radiogram was now telling us that someone liked her looks when he carried her books in Kalamazoo. I wondered idly where that was. I made a copy of the position on the chessboard and went out of the Mess. It was a beautiful summer evening, the sun was starting to dip now and there were some streaks of altostratus in the north-west. A faint breeze brought the twittering of sparrows; a blackbird nearer at hand was giving a few clarinet notes, intent on practising the first bar of his eventual good-night song. A Halifax droned over, to the east, high, probably setting off on a night cross-country or a Bullseye. His engines made a hollow, booming roar in the clear evening air. Then the Tannoy came to life with a hum and with a leap of the heart I heard J – ‘s voice come over, telling someone he was wanted at his Flight Office.
I cycled up the quiet road through the hamlet, which was companionably and inextricably mixed up with the Station’s huts, and turned right at the tall gable-end of a house on to the narrow concrete road which, in a few hundred yards beyond the W.A.A.F. site, came to the Ops Room.
[page break]
The sentry gave me a cheery “Good evening, sir,” and I went inside to the strip-lighting, the huge wall-blackboard, the central plotting table and the long desk with the telephones. Derek, J – and little Edith, one of the Int. Clerks, were on duty. I saluted and said, “Hiya, folks, everything under control?” It was. Edith was finishing writing up the captains and aircraft letters on the big blackboard and it looked impressive. You started to imagine the bomb-load from that lot going down on to a built-up area, and what it would do. Then you stopped imagining. I got busy with some paper-work, tying up loose ends and amending some S.D.s, then the clerk made some tea. J – ‘s phone was pretty quiet – it usually was a couple of hours or so before take-off – she was writing a letter, I think, and Derek was sorting out the mosaics alphabetically and sliding them back into the big drawer below the table.
“Time we had a new one for Hamburg,” he said, “this one’s about had it.”
“So’s Hamburg,” I said, “if it come to that,” and we grinned.
We drank tea, smoked and chatted a bit, mostly about our next leave. Derek was whistling “Room 504” off and on, and rather badly. There wasn’t a lot to do now except wait for a scrub, which we knew wouldn’t happen when there was a big summer high over western Europe. Odd calls came in to J – requesting Tannoy messages; she put them out and logged them all.
I went outside for a while to look at the sky. The Ops Room was windowless and the lighting and general fug got you down rather after a time, especially as we all smoked like chimneys. It was about nine o’clock. I looked over the cornfield which was just outside the Ops Room door. The corn was ripe, grown high, ready for harvest; the sky was very beautiful, pale green almost in one place, some stars showing, complete stillness.
“Calm before the storm,” I thought, rather tritely. I breathed the cooling air gratefully. Somewhere in the distance the blackbird was firing his short bursts of evening song. It was all very peaceful and the war seemed a hell of a long way off.
The sentry seemed fidgety, he was probably wishing I would hurry up and go in again so that he could have a quiet smoke himself.
[page break]
“Nice night,” I said to him.
Back in the Ops Room I felt we were completely insulated from the outside world. Until the phone rang.
“Ops, Breighton,” J – said. She listened, then put the phone down.
“Flying Control,” she said to me, “they’re taxying out. First off should be any minute now.”
“O.K.,” I said, “I might as well chalk them up.”
I was feeling a little strung-up; it would give me something to do. In a little while the phone rang again.
“Ops, Breighton….. right, sir, thank you.”
J – turned to me.
“B – Baker airborne 2149.”
I chalked up the time opposite ‘B’. After that, the phone went at very short intervals, until they had all gone. In the Ops Room we never heard a thing, only the hum of the air-conditioning and the buzz of the strip-lighting.
I imagined them doing their gentle climbing turns to port and setting course over the centre of the aerodrome, the Navigators carefully logging the time, the gunners in their turrets watchful for other aircraft, then climbing steadily away towards Southwold where they crossed out for the North Sea, the enemy coast and whatever lay in wait for them beyond, on the other side.
When they’d all gone, the Wingco came in for a chat. He was a good type and we all liked him. He and Derek shared an interest in painting, and after a while he took Derek off to the Mess for a drink. There wouldn’t have been much for Derek to do behind his desk, anyhow.
“Can you cope?” Derek asked, as he went.
“Of course,” I said, hiding my elation that J – and I would be able to have a talk. The clerk slipped off into the Int. Library, I think she sensed that three was a crowd. After a while, the phone rang again.
“Ops, Breighton….. yes, thank you, I’ve got that.”
She turned to me again.
“Flying Control. Early return, F – Fox, starboard inner u/s. I’ll phone the Wingco in the Mess.”
While she was doing so, I went outside again. It was quite dark now, and countless stars were showing. They had put the Sandra Lights on for
[page break]
F – Fox. In a little while I heard him coming from the south, then he came into the circuit with his nav. lights on, flashed ‘F’ on his downward ident. light and slid down on to the runway behind the H.Q. huts, his three engines popping as he throttled back. In the stillness I heard the screech of his tyres as they bit the runway, then his engine-note faded into silence. In a minute or two I heard his bursts of throttle as he taxied into dispersal. He would have jettisoned his load, and most of his petrol, into the sea. J – had logged his time of landing on the board.
“I’ve told the Wingco,” she said.
We swopped childhoods, parents and early Service days for a while, then I decided to go and have a sleep in the Window Store, on the bench. I must have been tired and slept very soundly, because I was awakened by knocking on the door and Edith’s timid voice calling, “First aircraft overhead, sir.”
I shivered as I swung my legs down off the bench and on to the stone floor; I always shivered when I heard those words, wondering how it had gone. Had they had much opposition? That was always my first thought. Had there been much fighter activity? What had the flak been like, and the searchlights? I never thought much about the target; what seemed to matter to me was whether they were all back.
I went into the Ops Room and lit a cigarette, passing my case around. Derek was back.
“Here’s Rip van Winkle,” he said, “come to muck things up for us.”
“Get knotted,” I grinned, “and let’s have my fags back.”
He threw my case back at me and I disappointed him by catching it. The phone rang; J – answered it. The first one had landed safely. Derek said, “I’ll get along and start the interrogations, Pam’s on, too.”
“O.K., Derek,” I told him, “I’ll be down later,” and he left.
He still had “Room 504” on his mind and it still sounded no better. The phone rang again, it was another one landed. They kept coming in steadily and whoever was nearest the blackboard chalked them up. By quarter to six we had them all back but two. I took a quick
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look around. The clerk was in the far corner collecting empty cups. I said to J - , quietly, “Can you meet me tonight? Seven o’clock? We’ll go to the Plough, if you like.”
She nodded.
“Yes,” she breathed, and smiled briefly. She still looked wizard, I thought, even at six o’clock in the morning after a long night duty. For a while we let our thoughts take possession of us. Then the phone broke the silence again. One of the two had landed away, in 3 Group. That left just one outstanding.
The minutes ticked by. Then I said the usual thing, one of us always said it at times like this.
“He could have landed away, too, and they haven’t told us yet.”
But there was actually only fifteen minutes left before his endurance, on the night’s petrol load, ran out. I went outside, restlessly. The Sandra Lights looked desolate in a vivid and rigid cone above the aerodrome, waiting in the silence which had now enveloped everything. Dawn was starting to break. It looked like being another perfect summer morning. Far away, a door slammed and someone whistled, loudly and jauntily. Probably one of the returned crews, just off to bed. The sky, lightening, seemed immense, the stars had faded and the trees were motionless. In a little while I went back inside.
“Anything, J - ?”
She shook her head. I looked at my watch. Time was up, and more. We were quite quiet for a long while. Then I said, “I was playing chess with his bomb-aimer just before they went. Let’s hope to God they are P.o.W.s”. We still sat, waiting. When I knew it was quite hopeless I said to J – “You’d better phone the Wingco and the Padre. I’m going to see about the photographs. See you this evening, then, goodnight, J - .”
“Goodnight, or rather, good morning,” she said.
I walked out of the Ops Room into the early morning with a feeling of weariness and desolation. What was it all about? I thought. It was quite cool outside; I reached for a cigarette and my hand found a piece of paper in my pocket. It was the sketch of the chess board. I looked at if for a minute or so, then I said,
[page break]
“Good luck, wherever you are.”
I screwed the paper into a ball and dropped it into the waist-high corn, and I thought of the seven men who might be lying amidst the wreckage of their aircraft somewhere across the sea. It was growing light now and a faint breeze stirred the ripened heads of the wheat. Somewhere, the blackbird was starting to sing. The Sandra lights had been put out. There was nothing left for me to do. I shivered, and turned away.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
With an effort I dragged my thoughts back to the reality of the present, and I realised it was already time to go. The sun was dazzlingly low, but its warmth still lingered and there was a faint scent of late roses as I walked up through the hamlet, towards the gable-end and the road to the Ops Room. An old man was stiffly tending his patch of front garden, and looked up as I said “Good evening.”
“Been a fine day,” he said. He saw my rucksack. “Have you come far?” he added.
“Yes,” I said, “I’ve come a very long way,” and I walked on, into the silence and the shadows of the gathering twilight.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] A different kind of love. [/underlined] [/inserted]
[page break]
[underlined] A DIFFERENT KIND OF LOVE [/underlined
“’Tis sure small matter for wonder
If sorrow is with one still”
(A.E. Housman)
Temporization, delaying tactics, putting-off. Call it what you will. I try to justify it be telling myself that whatever one calls it – and I am fairly certain we have all of us been guilty of it at some time – it is a human failing, and the guilt one feels, if one should feel guilt at some action or lack of action if it affects only oneself, has been felt by many another person. And should one indeed experience feelings of guilt if whatever the reason for the “putting-off” it affects only oneself? But I am afraid that in the circumstances which I have finally decided and brought myself to the point of describing, at least one other person must have felt some hurt, almost certainly deep hurt, and this is what has concerned me for a very long time. The thought and the concern I have felt is something which comes into my mind for no apparent reason at intervals of time, like the aching of a doubtful tooth which one knows will prove difficult and extremely painful of extraction. The moral points having been made, it is time for me to elaborate, sparing, I hope, no detail, least of all sparing nothing of the sad story of my own actions which undoubtedly started the whole business. These events, I know, will be re-lived in my mind, as they have been over the years, for days on end, producing invariably feelings of deep sadness and of ineradicable guilt.
I think it is worthy of mention that in the closing months of my career in the R.A.F. I was successively Adjutant of two units. The first of these was the unhappiest unit I had encountered, and the second, which followed immediately afterwards was without doubt the happiest one; one where I felt that those around me were like-minded. I went, at the behest of the powers-that-were in South East Asia Command, from one to the other on receipt of the appropriate signal, teleprinted on to paper, simply by walking from one tent to
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another on a crowded-to-capacity aerodrome near Rangoon, the Japanese surrender having thankfully taken place a few hours before. I met some of my new fellow-Officers and took to them immediately. First impressions were confirmed over the next days, weeks and months. On the final posting of my R.A.F. career I had arrived on a unit which was the most agreeable I had experienced in six years. I think that was understandable when one considers that I would wake in the mornings knowing that there was no war being fought, that no-one was going to be killed among those around me, no-one was going to go missing on operations and that one would not find an empty bed across one’s room in the morning, no empty chair in the Mess, no letters to be written to next-of-kin.
From the tented camp, where conditions were, to put it mildly, primitive, we were, after a few days, put on board a small paddle-steamer and left Rangoon for where we knew not. On this small ship I was to meet people with whom I was to work and play very happily for almost the last year of my service in the R.A.F. and with a few of whom I was to form enduring friendships, now alas, terminated by the inevitable and merciless passage of time.
It was on this ship too, where I first became acquainted with the music of Elgar. One morning as we were steaming southwards – we knew that much! – I was coming down a short flight of stairs leading to what, in terms of a house in England, would be described as a hallway or lobby. Some music was being played on a gramophone there and I was so struck by its grave beauty that I stood stock still on the stairway until it had ended. Then, moved by it and marvelling at its beauty I went up to the Equipment Officer who was playing it on his wind-up gramophone. This was at the time of 78 r.p.m. shellac records, of course. I asked him what he had just been playing and he was more than pleased to tell me that it was a movement from Elgar’s Enigma Variations, called Nimrod and explained the significance of that title. Little did I know that I was to hear the same music, in vastly different circumstances very soon, the recollection of which would have the power to move me deeply for years afterwards, not only because of the music itself, but because of the player of it and what the player meant – and still means – to me.
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We soon learned that we were heading for the island of Penang, of which most of us had heard, but that was all, as part of Operation Zipper, the British occupation, or rather re-occupation, of what was then Malaya, after the Japanese surrender and withdrawal. We were to be, in fact, the first R.A.F. unit to land in Malaya. And so it was. We arrived at the quayside of Georgetown, the principal town, under the massive shadow of the battleship H.M.S. Nelson, anchored next to us. Over the next few days we found our quarters in an old army cantonment on a wooded hillside, at Sungei Glugor, and took possession of the small aerodrome at Bayan Lepas in readiness for the arrival of a Spitfire squadron and a detachment of two Beaufighters from Burma. We hunted for furniture for the empty and deserted cantonment and found ample in the abandoned dwelling houses on the island. We readily imagined what must have happened to the original occupants during the Japanese occupation.
Within days we had the Station operating and thanks to the Royal Signals, in contact with our parent formations at Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. The Spitfires and Beaufighters duly arrived. We were an operational formation.
Now that I was settled into a permanent location I had the time and facilities to write a letter to J – every day, as she did to me. We had been engaged to be married for just under two years and there was a clear agreement between us that we would not be married until after we were both settled into civilian life again. Never did either of us doubt the promises made to one another and despite the time and distance which separated us, neither of us doubted the fidelity or behaviour of the other. J – was a W.A.A.F. Sergeant on an operational bomber station, now thankfully converted to peaceful purposes, and she was surrounded by some hundreds of both W.A.A.F. and R.A.F. personnel. As for me, my surroundings were peopled exclusively by men. The relationship between J – and I was firmly founded on mutual trust.
It had been decided that we should participate in a Service of Thanksgiving in one of the churches in Georgetown, and the arrangements were soon made, as were the arrangements for a victory march-past of all the armed services in Georgetown’s Victoria Park.
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I suppose there were over 100 of us to attend the service, which was held in the Chinese Methodist Church on a pleasant evening. A sizeable Chinese contingent were also present, men and women, all beautifully dressed in white. I was near to the right hand end of a pew fairly near to the front of the church, and as I took my place the organ was being played. To my amazement and delight I immediately recognised the tune as none other but ‘Nimrod’, which I had only recently come to know and which had made such an impression on me on the boat coming down from Rangoon. Smiling to myself, I looked up and to my right to see if it was one of our number who was the organist. My further surprise was that it was not anyone that I knew, but someone I took to be a Chinese youth in a white surplice. And then I saw that I was again mistaken; the organist was a Chinese girl in a long white dress. As she finished ‘Nimrod’ she moved almost seamlessly into a Chopin E Minor Prelude whose tune, full of yearning, almost brought tears into my eyes.
The service itself was jointly conducted by a Chinese clergyman about 50 years old and of almost ascetic appearance, and our own Methodist Padre. During the service an announcement was made that light refreshments would be served in the church hall afterwards and I determined to be there, partly from personal preference and partly because as Wing Adjutant it would obviously be my duty not to return immediately to the cantonment at Glugor but to show a degree of sociability towards the local people who were our hosts.
It dawned on me that since I had left England more than six months previously I had never seen a member of the opposite sex in that time, nor even heard a female voice. My mother, on my embarkation leave and J – immediately prior to my going on leave, had been the last two women to whom I had spoken.
I wondered, as, the service over, I went into the fairly crowded church hall, whether the girl organist would be there so that I could tell her how I had enjoyed and been moved by her choice of music. She was indeed there, one of those serving refreshments at a line of tables at one side of the hall. I was extremely pleased, went straight across to her, and smiling, spoke to her, complimenting
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her on her playing.
She smiled depracatingly [sic] and brushed away with her hand one side of the curtain of her collar-length black hair from her face, a gesture which, so characteristic of her, I have recalled very many times since. Her voice was soft, musical and charmingly accented, reminding me forcibly of J – ‘s own voice. She apologised for not having played well; she said she was out of practice. These few seconds were the start of an utterly delightful, all-too-brief, but quite unforgettable friendship. It became a friendship, and only that. Nothing more. During the time that I knew her I never once touched her, not even to shake hands when eventually I left Malaya for good. (‘For good’? I was in two minds about that. I felt I was being torn apart). My promises to J – were unbreakable and at no time did I think even of the possibility of breaking them. We were engaged to be married; we would be married as soon as it could be managed when I returned to the U.K. Strangely, I have only just discovered some poignantly applicable words in a chanson by the 14th century Guillaume de Machaut –
‘…. in a foreign land,
You who bear sweetness and beauty
White and red like a rose or lily ….
The radiance of your virtue
Shines brighter than the Pole Star ….
Fair one, elegant, frank and comely,
Imbued with all modesty of demeanour.’
I was not alone in making a friend in the local community; there were at least two other Officers to my knowledge who formed attachments of one sort or the other while we were on the island.
And at home? J - , in her daily letters to me occasionally mentioned going to dances on the aerodrome where she was stationed and I presumed that obviously she danced in the arms of men. But I trusted her as implicitly as I hope she trusted me. She mentioned two men, both Australian pilots, by their nicknames. One of them was killed, with all his crew, when they crashed within sight of the aerodrome on returning from an op. No reason for the crash was ever
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established. But to my discredit I could not help feeling a twinge - - perhaps more than that – of jealousy whenever I read their names in her letters. And some time after J – and I were married, while we were once talking about wartime days and nights, quite out of the blue she said, only half-jokingly, “If I hadn’t married you I would have married an Australian”. I remember that I smiled but said nothing. What could I say?
I find it difficult now to describe Chiau Yong adequately as I saw her then and as I think of her now, without using trite phrases or words which in this age of cynicism would be sneered at or greeted with unbelieving or sarcastic laughter. But then, and over the weeks which followed I was charmed by her placid nature, her smiling, childlike innocence, her undoubted beauty and her impish sense of humour.
That evening in the church hall, as I chatted to her, standing as we were at opposite sides of the table of refreshments, I felt a growing happiness which I had not known for a long time stealing over me and calming me, as though the war, with all the tragedies which I had seen and experienced, had never taken place.
When, regretfully, it was time for me to go I had learned her name and that she was the daughter of the clergyman whose church this was. I had also, hesitantly and tentatively, expecting nothing except possibly a polite rebuff, asked if I might see her again by coming to hear her organ practice, whenever that might be. She shyly consented and I felt, as I left the hall, that my feet were hardly touching the ground. I think I must have been smiling foolishly, but fortunately no-one commented as we boarded the gharries to return to Glugor.
As often as I possibly could I went to the church and sat in a pew near to the front, where I could see her sitting at the organ console, while she practised, content to listen to the music she made and to watch her as she played, quite unperturbed that I was there, a few feet away from her, listening and watching. Sometimes I went with her into her home, where she played the piano for me. And often we talked. Her English was truly excellent, somewhat reminiscent in her use of words and phrases of the Victorian era, but none the less lucid and charming to hear spoken
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in her soft, lilting voice. We talked about the music she played; she asked what sort of music I liked. We talked a little about our respective backgrounds. She was keen to learn anything about England. I mentioned one or two of my wartime experiences but asked for no details of hers or of her family’s under the Japanese occupation. I developed an interest to scratch the surface of knowledge of the Chinese language. Her own dialect, and that of her mother, who spoke no English, unlike her father and her sister, was Hokkien. She and her sister, who joined us on one occasion when we sat talking, amused themselves and entertained me by translating my name into written Chinese ideographs, which they pronounced as ‘Yo-min’. Whenever Chiau Yong wished to draw my attention to something or ask me a question, it was always prefaced by her saying ‘Mister Yo-min….’ . I suppose in her strict upbringing, which I assumed she had had, the use of my Christian name would have been seen as unduly familiar.
She taught me the numerals from one to ten and chuckled delightfully behind her small hand at my unavailing efforts to pronounce the words for ‘one’ and ‘seven’ correctly. To my ears they sounded identical; I am afraid that I was an obtuse pupil. I asked her about her own name; she told me that it meant ‘shining countenance’ which, I thought, could not have been more appropriate. As to her age, I never enquired. I would have put her as being slightly younger than I. I was 24 at the time, she would be possibly around 20, I thought.
I met her parents on at least one occasion. They very kindly invited me to come to their home for an evening meal, which I was glad and honoured to do. Two things stand out clearly in my mind about that occasion: the number of different languages spoken around the table and the sense of peacefulness which surrounded us. Her mother, a quiet middle-aged lady, simply dressed in black, spoke only Hokkien which, if she addressed me, was translated by Chiau Yong, as was my reply to her mother. Her father, the minister, spoke excellent English in a calm and measured manner. Her sister, Chiau Gian and her rather quiet younger brother spoke English too, for my benefit. Chiau Yong, who had told me that she was learning Mandarin, the classical Chinese tongue, spoke in English, of course, to me, in Hokkien to her mother and in Malay to the houseboy who appeared from time to time on his domestic errands.
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After I had visited their home on several occasions to see Chiau Yong and to hear her play, I was slightly surprised when one afternoon, as we were talking together, a pilot from the Spitfire squadron which had arrived came into the room. I knew D – P – well enough to talk to, but I thought, in my limited understanding of such things, he did not fit into my preconceived idea of what a fighter pilot should be like. He was, from what I had seen of him in the Mess, not only slightly older-looking than the other pilots, with somewhat thinning hair, but also of a quieter disposition than most of the others. However, a Spitfire pilot he was, whatever ideas I had formed about the differences between them and bomber pilots such as I had been. I gathered he had come to see Chiau Yong’s father, and not being interested in the reason for his visit I promptly forgot about him after we had exchanged polite enough greetings on this and on one or two further occasions when he came to the house to see Mr. Ng.
I knew that my time on the island and indeed in the R.A.F. must shortly come to an end. Being an administrative officer, as Adjutant, I could almost forecast when my time would come to ‘get on the boat’ and while others around me were obviously in a fever of impatience to get back to ‘civvy street’, as it was always called, I found my own state of mind to be more in the nature of calm acceptance, knowing that while I would be returning to J - , whom I loved and to whom I would be married, somehow, somewhere and at some time, I had spent a quarter of my life and almost all my adult life in R.A.F. uniform and would find things difficult or indeed incomprehensible.
At about this time our unit, 185 Wing, received orders to move across to the mainland, into Province Wellesley, to become R.A.F. Station Butterworth, leaving very good and well-appointed accommodation for something not quite so commodious. But there was a very good ferry service between Butterworth (which local people knew as Mata Kuching) and Georgetown, so I was still within easy reach of the town, its cafes, good sports facilities which were well used by us all, and above all, still within easy reach of Chiau Yong.
Towards the end of my service at Butterworth, on one visit to her, she suggested that we take a cycle ride to see some nearby parts
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of the island which were strange to me, and this we did for a couple of hours, along deserted roads, up hillsides, almost always under the cover of trees with their blossoms, so exotic to my eyes, with their birdsong, and the chattering and calling of monkeys and chipmunks.
The idyll had to end. I think my unconscious mind has, as a defence mechanism, obliterated the recollection of our goodbyes, for I can remember not one single thing about it. It is as though it had never happened. But it must have done, of course. I returned to England, a stranger to a strange land. Standards had changed, attitudes had changed, there was no longer the feeling of one-ness, of co-operation and togetherness which the war had engendered. It seemed now as though it were ‘every man for himself and damn the others’. I let a decent interval of two or three days pass as I settled in at home with my parents then I travelled south to be with J - . It was a happy but strange reunion. Strange to see her in civilian clothes, strange to see her leave to catch an early train to Brighton to work for the South Eastern Gas Board. All our talk was of when, where and how we were going to be married and where we would live. In the end, with the willing help of my parents, I found very basic accommodation in my home town, as I had agreed with J – that I needed to return to my old occupation and to obtain a necessary qualification as soon as possible.
J – and I were married in the autumn from her aunt’s home in Surrey and after our honeymoon in Edinburgh we were thrust into the realities of married life in cramped surroundings, comprehensive rationing, with a shared kitchen, and where even the basics of living necessitated stringent saving on my salary, with all of which J – coped amazingly well. I had to study hard in the evenings in the same small living room where J – was usually reading or knitting, deprived of the radio so as not to disturb me. Settling down at work was none too easy. My superiors were a man who had somehow missed the first World War and who was too old for the Second, his deputy, who had tried hard to dissuade me from volunteering for aircrew on the grounds that I would be probably be instrumental in killing people and who himself, had he not been reserved from military service as a key employee would have been compelled to describe himself as a conscientious objector. There were also two ex-R.A.F. men, who in six years of service had attained the respective ranks of Corporal
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and of Leading Aircraftman. Perhaps because I had outranked them it became apparent that any particularly physically dirty or awkward job was allocated to me. I accepted the situation as a continuation of military discipline, as I did when the office clerk, a lady of mature years, when I politely declined to do part of her far less than arduous work for her (so that she would have more time for gossiping, I suspected), told me rather angrily and unimaginatively that since “I’d been away” I had changed, which I thought was something of an understatement. I never talked of my wartime experiences and no-one asked me a single question. All they knew was that I had flown aeroplanes, been over Germany and finished my career in the Far East. The rest was silence.
Having neither a telephone nor a car I kept in touch with friends I had made in the R.A.F. by letter and rarely did a week go by without news from someone, either in the U.K. or some other part of the globe. My correspondents, of course, included Chiau Yong, whom I had told in a letter that I was finally married, and had given her my address. I certainly had not forgotten her and whenever I thought of her I smiled mentally at the remembrance of her charming company and her music-making.
At this time, although of course there was no means of knowing it, J – was sickening for a serious, potentially fatal illness, which within months was to take her into sanatoria for more than a year of her young life. Whether this slow decline in her health, coupled with the novelty of her surroundings and circumstances contributed to the short and low-key breakfast table conversation which took place between us I do not know, but I suspect it might have done so.
I remember vividly that it was a Saturday morning. There were two letters for us, one for J – and one for me, which, to my delight I saw was from Chiau Yong. We opened our respective mail at the breakfast table. The letter was typical of Chiau Yong’s nature – pleasant, equable, written in beautiful English and containing some mildly jocular reference to something I must have once said to her about settling down into civilian life. It contained no word of love; it ended without those conventional little crosses which were the well-known signs for kisses. I would have been astonished beyond measure if it had done so. J – had finished reading her own letter. I smiled across the table and said “From Chiau Yong. Read it, darling”.
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She took it without a word and read it expressionlessly. I had no inkling of what was to come as she handed the letter unsmilingly back to me. Looking directly at me, she said “I don’t think it’s right that she should be writing to a married man like that and I think you should tell her so”.
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I was completely taken aback with shock and surprise. I had known J – for more than three years during which time we had seen eye-to-eye on almost everything and no word of disagreement had ever passed between us. But I recovered my composure quickly and knowing that one’s wife must come first in everything, I said “All right”.
I immediately left the table, got the writing pad and sitting down again in front of J – I wrote the cruellest words that I have ever in my whole life composed. My opening words are to this day burned into my memory.
“Dear Chiau Yong”, I wrote, “In England, a married man does not write letters to another girl”. And I continued briefly that the correspondence between us must now stop. It took about three minutes. I handed the letter wordlessly to J – who read it and gave it back to me with a nod. “Yes,” she said.
Chiau Yong’s name was never again mentioned during our married life, but I cannot and would not pretend that, happily married as we were for almost 40 years, I never thought of Chiau Yong. For I have thought of her often and I have been deeply and bitterly troubled that I must have been the cause of her suffering so much shock and pain so unexpectedly and, in my eyes, without any reason, and certainly not by any misdeed of hers, intentional or otherwise. I have prayed again and again over the years, and still do, that she might have eventually forgiven me. I never saw her again; I never heard from her again. Whether she is alive or dead, was or is happy or unhappy, I do not know, but I do know that she brought light and sweetness in unbelievable measure into my life and that our short and beautiful friendship was as innocent in every respect as any relationship could be.
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There is a curious and disturbingly bitter postscript to this unhappy episode in my life. J –‘s parents lived in Worthing and naturally she wanted to see them and her unmarried younger sister whenever she could. We had not much money, but by dint of hard saving we were able to spend two or three weeks every summer, usually during the Worthing Cricket Week, with her parents. One summer’s day, not all that many years before she died, J – and I were walking through the park near to the Worthing sea front. We left the park and crossed the road, going towards Lancing, still near to the sea. On the corner stood a church whose denomination I did not know – until I read on a notice board erected near to the church door, “Minister – D. P. –“ I looked away quickly before my shock and astonishment became too obvious. It could only have been the Spitfire pilot from Penang who used to visit Chiau Yong’s father, presumably for some sort of guidance or instruction as to his post war vocation. If things had been other than they were I would have gone immediately with J – to seek him out, to talk over the times when we first met, but of course Chiau Yong’s name would have come into our conversation. I walked on in silence, as though nothing untoward had happened, but with my mind in a turmoil. So J – never knew about D – P – , about his nearness and of the memories I still had of sunlit afternoons in the church hall in Georgetown where I would sit talking with that beautiful young girl in her long white dress.
Was I in love with Chiau Yong? Can one be in love with two people at once? Was that possible when I never stopped loving J - ? These are questions I have many times asked myself. The only self-convincing conclusion to which I can reasonably arrive is while there was no element whatsoever of the physical aspect of love in my relationship with her, yet I feel that the affection which I held and hold for her, whatever her feelings might have been for me, was more than mere friendship, that this was a different kind of love. Christ exhorted us to love one another. We were both Christians and I think that this is what He meant us to feel for one another.
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And so now, very often, while I have been writing this belated account of something which has haunted me for a very long time, and very often since I wrote that terrible, wounding letter, I remember with a sort of poignant gratitude and happiness, bitter-sweet happiness, the beauty of her nature and her innocent sweetness and I thank God for the gift of happiness which she gave me. But at the same time I feel a profound and bitter guilt and sadness, knowing that the dreadful hurt which she must have suffered and perhaps for years remembered was due to no fault of hers but was entirely due to me.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Mi querer tanto vos quiere,
muy graciosa donzella,
que por vos mi vida muere
y de vos no tiene querella.
Tanto sois de mi querida
con amor i lealtad,
que de vos non se que diga
viendo vestra onestad.
Si mi querer tanto vos quiere,
causalo que sois tan bella,
que por vos mi vida muere
y de vos no tiene querella.
(Enrique, d. 1488)
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[inserted] [underlined] Sun on a chequered tea-cosy [/underlined] [/inserted]
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O where are you going, Sir Rollo and Sir Tabarie,
Sir Duffy and Sir Dinadan, you four proud men,
With your battlecries [sic] and banners,
Your high and haughty manners,
O tell me, tell me, tell me,
Will you ride this way again?
(School Speech Day song, 1936.)
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[underlined] SUN ON A CHEQUERED TEA-COSY [/undelrined]
It was Zhejian green tea. I poured the water on, placed the lid carefully on the pot and took the tea-cosy in my left hand. The sun through the kitchen window shone brightly across its red and green checks. And stirred some memory, deep down in the recesses of my mind. Those checks had some significance, somewhere from a long way back. I stood there, looking down at the covered teapot and let myself relax until the realisation slowly dawned. I was looking again at the band around Ivor’s R.A.F. peaked cap when he was an apprentice at Halton, before the war, and I found myself thinking back to the times I had walked with him along the cliffs, hearing the gulls screaming overhead and wheeling in the sunlight, laughing with him as he sang “Shaibah Blues”, with the waves crashing on to the rocks below.
I never thought I would find myself in the position of trying to do a small thing to defend Ivor, after all this time, but, of course, there’s no one else left to do it now. Looking back over it, although so many years have passed since H – wrote what he did, it still seems to me that they were very cruel words to use, especially as Ivor had no means of defending himself, no right of reply nor of appeal. It was something so barbed that it eventually acquired, through its re-telling, the significance and nature of a legend, and in the perverse way of things it elevated Ivor to the status of a minor hero. But all the same, at the time it took place I could see it had made a deep and lasting impression on him, young and resilient as he was. And now, to me, at any rate, H – ‘s words about Ivor have acquired a poignancy which can never to expunged.
Ivor need not, of course, have let anyone into the secret; one didn’t do that sort of thing, very often, at school, in case it was thought that one was being sissy or trying to attract attention and sympathy, but it was sufficient to indicate to me, and to John, I believe, who was there at the time, how deeply it had struck home, when Ivor approached us one day on the Second Field, before school went in.
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It was the beginning of the Autumn term. The field behind the woodwork room looked bare and open without the cricket nets; the marks of the bowlers’ run-ups and of the batting block-holes could still be seen. The rugby pitch, away down the slight slope, looked very green and inviting with its newly painted posts and flawlessly straight white lines. During the winter months I lived for rugby and thought of little else; scholastic subjects took a poor second place.
As was the custom, about half the school were engaged in punting a single rugger ball around, more or less at random, before lessons started, competing with one another to catch it then punt it as far as one could again. It sounds, and looked, I suppose, pointless. But it was rare that anyone in any match missed catching a kick by the opposition, and no-one at all would dream of letting the ball bounce before he attempted to take it. I was squinting up into the sun at the flight of the ball when I heard someone call, “Hey! Yoicks!”
I turned to see Ivor. John, who was nearby, grinned when he saw him and came over, with his rather stiff-legged, rocking walk. Ivor and I exchanged the usual new-term greetings and repartee – where had we been, had we seen the latest laurel and Hardy picture, and so on. Then, surprisingly, for the old term was now but a hazy memory, Ivor said, “What was your report like?”
“My report?” I repeated in astonishment.
“Yeah, what was it like?” Ivor repeated, attempting a casual nonchalance.
I was surprised at his interest in that, because Ivor, more so than I, perhaps, was not particularly scholastically minded. He had the build of an athlete, taller than me by four or five inches, heavier by almost a stone, with dark, short-cropped hair, a freckled face and a pugnacious jaw. He moved with the natural athlete’s springy lope. He was a more than adequate boxer, a hard-working and aggressive lock forward and, during the summer, a forthright, attacking middle order batsman, as well as being a bowler of fearsome pace and hostility, if rather lacking in accuracy.
“What was it like, then, your report?” he repeated insistently.
To be truthful, I could hardly remember much about it; I took little interest in it, apart from my French result and the comments opposite “Games”. My parents rarely commented on it either, except to tell me, with some regularity, that I would have to pull my socks up.
“Oh, all right, I suppose,“ I said off-handedly to Ivor. “I was top in French,” I added rather smugly. He ignored that.
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“What did H – have to say – about your Speech Training?”
I looked at him in amazement. Speech Training? It just didn’t count; there was no exam., no placings, just remarks on the term’s progress, or lack of it.
For a short while around this period of time, the powers-that-were quite rightly decided that we should be put on the path towards becoming at least partly comprehensible in our speech to someone who might live more than half-a-dozen miles away. And Mr. H - , as a recent graduate from Oxbridge, was deputed to perform this function. It must be said that he did so with rather bitter sarcasm, delivered under a thin veil of feigned jocularity, which did little to impart in us either the ability, or indeed the desire to speak our mother tongue in a widely acceptable form. In fact, it had, in some cases, where the pupil concerned was either of a rebellious or strongly independent nature, quite the reverse effect, as toes were, metaphorically speaking, firmly dug in.
Into this category Ivor fell; he took very personally and very much to heart the barbed remarks directed at him during the rather tedious classes in Speech Training, and in the end, it was obvious to everyone that he was adopting an attitude verging on passive resistance to H – ‘s instruction. It seemed that Ivor’s was the proverbial duck’s back off which the pure water of H – ‘s tuition flowed unheeded.
Ivor seized me, in mock anger, by the lapels of my blazer.
“C’mon, c’mon!” he exclaimed in his best Humphrey Bogart accents, “Come clean, y’rat!”
“Well,” I said, rather tired of the subject by now, “if you must know, I think he said something like ‘fairly good’. I didn’t get myself told off by my parents, anyhow, so it can’t have been too bad. But why, anyhow? What’s all the fuss about?”
Ivor’s eyes narrowed and he looked around him before, dropping his voice, he said to John and me, “Do you know what the rotter put on mine?”
“No,” I said, somewhat obviously.
“Well, on mine, he said, ‘Seems incapable of sustained effort’, the so-and-so. My Dad played merry hell about it, threatened to
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stop my pocket-money and goodness knows what.”
“I say, it is a bit thick, though, isn’t it, H – saying a rotten thing like that? I mean to say – “
I left the sentence unfinished; I felt that H – ‘s remark was a bit much. Surely he could have simply said ‘fairly good’ or ‘could do better’? They were the customary form of words. But this, well, it was rather damning. Both John and I made sympathetic noises, then John passed around his wine gums. I let Ivor have the black one and we chewed them in thoughtful silence, each of us meditating on the rat-ishness of H - . The next time I caught the ball I passed it hard to Ivor and he gave vent to his feelings with a tremendous punt which almost cleared the fence by the Art School.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
At that age, memories are short, and mine was no exception. I cannot speak for Ivor, of course; I suppose that somewhere inside that stubborn, defiant head of his a resentment still burned, and as far as H – was concerned, while it would be quite unfair to say that he had it in for Ivor, it was apparent that he singled him out with some slight relish as the object of any cutting remarks he felt inclined to make concerning our defective pronunciation. But it was something which, to be honest about it, did not loom very large in my life. Perhaps twice a week, during the Speech Training lessons I would look covertly, with mingled anticipation and apprehension, at the scornfully sarcastic H – and at a reddening Ivor, his lower lip jutting stubbornly, as the temperature of the atmosphere rose between them. But my Autumn term was dominated by the fact that I was picked to play for the Junior House fifteen.
I knew, of course, that Ivor’s eldest brother was in the Royal Air Force; from time to time he mentioned him, proudly, and looking back, I realise that I never knew his first name, he was to Ivor, simply ‘my brother’. Somehow, it lent them both a great deal of dignity, I think. Ivor would also tell us the latest Station his brother was on, their romantic-sounding names supplying, as it were, a coloured backdrop to the anonymity of ‘my brother’ in his coarse, high-necked airman’s tunic and peaked cap pulled down on his brow,
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as I saw him in my imagination, marching in a squad of men – I did not yet know they were called ‘flights’ – across a vast parade ground.
“He’s on a course at St. Athan, just now,” Ivor would tell us, or, “My brother’s been posted to Drem,” or again, “He’s at Scampton.”
What his brother did, exactly, we never knew, nor thought to ask, it was sufficient that he inhabited and was part of a picturesque, far-off and dashing world, greatly removed in every way from our monotonous and rather dreary provincial town.
One day, Ivor came up to John and me and said, proudly, “My brother’s been posted overseas, he’s gone to Aden.”
John said, mischievously, “Will he be wearing a fez?” and had to dodge the powerful left swing which Ivor pretended to aim with serious intent at him. On the strength of that news, John and I took to calling Ivor “Ali”, but we could tell he didn’t much like it, and as he was still the target of H – ‘s jibes we thought he had sufficient to contend with, so we eventually dropped it.
It was during the Christmas holidays when I was, for want of something better to do, in our sitting room playing the piano rather loudly and very inaccurately, that my mother put her head around the door.
“You’re not concentrating,” she said, “I can tell, you know. But there’s someone here for you, do you want me to bring him in?”
“Who is it?” I asked, glad of the interruption.
“I think he said his name was Bradley,” she replied.
“Oh, it must be Ivor, then,” I said, feeling much less bored and getting up from the piano. I went to the front door. Ivor was standing there with an expression of elaborate unconcern on his face.
“Hello, Yoicks,” he greeted me.
“Hiya,” I said, “what are you doing here?”
I thought perhaps he might want to borrow a book, or something.
“I was just going for a walk along the cliffs – want to come?”
This surprised me slightly as he wasn’t by any means a regular friend of mine away from school; there were a group of five or six of us who lived near to one another and who tended to congregate
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on our bikes in our immediate neighbourhood; Ivor lived all of three-quarters of a mile away in quite another part of the town, separated from our district by a railway line.
“Sure,” I said, glad of the distraction, “just hang on, I’ll shove my coat on.”
As I was doing so, “Mother!” I called, “I’m just going along the cliffs with Ivor.”
“Mind you don’t get cold,” she said, “Have you got your coat on?”
I rolled my eyes at Ivor, who grinned understandingly.
“Yes, Mam,” I said, in a long-suffering voice, and shut the door quickly behind me. We strode away.
When we arrived at the cliff-tops, the cold easterly wind was smashing the rollers against the rocks below and tugged at our overcoats as we walked. Until then we had talked of the usual things, what we had had for Christmas presents, the “flicks”, as Ivor always called them – a word learned from his brother, perhaps? – and how we had been passing the time during the holidays.
“My brother’s in Aden,” Ivor said, “did I tell you?”
I said yes, he had told us, how was he getting along?
“Great,” he said, “but it’s bloody hot out there. They’re all wondering what this bloke Mussolini’s going to do, he keeps talking about – what’s its name? – Abyssinia, or some place?”
I wasn’t greatly interested in the comical figure of the Italian dictator, comical, that is, as he appeared to us, or as he was portrayed to us. So I merely grunted something non-committal.
Ivor said abruptly, “I’m leaving. I thought I’d tell you.”
“You’re what?” I shouted above the noise of the sea, “You’re leaving? Leaving school? But you can’t!”
“Oh, yes I can, though,” he replied with a grin of triumph, “my Dad’s been to the Town Hall to check up.”
“But what are you going to do?” I asked, now all agog. He used an expression I heard then for the first time, on that cold and windswept cliff path, one which, when I hear it, inevitably brings to mind Ivor, his freckled face pink with the cold, as he proudly said, “I’m going to join the Raf.”
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The penny didn’t drop. It must have been the cold.
“The what?” I said, “What’s the Raf?”
He punched my shoulder playfully. Fortunately he was nearer the cliff-edge than I.
“C’mon, yer mug, it’s the R.A.F., of course. What else did you think?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” I replied, recovering my balance. “When’re you going, then?”
“Soon as I can. End of next term, prob’ly. I’m going to be a Boy Apprentice at Halton!”
He squared his broad shoulders. A vision of Oliver Twist with his empty porridge bowl held out in front of him floated into my head. ‘Boy Apprentice’ sounded rather like someone who was being exploited, ill-treated. I am sure I was wrong, but the picture remained. But I grinned and said, “You might get out to Aden with your brother.”
“Hope so,” he said wistfully, “but he’ll prob’ly be posted again before that. Anyhow, that’s what I’m doing. I’m leaving as soon as I can. No more speech training for me!”
We laughed. Two gulls wheeled noisily overhead, their screaming cut across the noise of the sea and of the wind. Ivor aimed his fingers, pointed like a pistol, at them and clicked his tongue very loudly, twice. He was good at that.
“Gotcher!” he exclaimed.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
The Spring term came and went. Ivor, as they would put it nowadays, kept a low profile as far as H – was concerned, and worked assiduously at every subject, even Speech Training. At the end of term he quietly left us. I don’t even remember saying ‘cheerio’ to him. We were young, you see, and quite without sentiment. Then it was summer, and the nets went up again. To my surprise I was elected Junior House cricket captain and became rather insufferably swollen-headed about it. It was on a Saturday afternoon that summer when I saw him again. I was sitting at home, reading, when a shadow passed the window, there was the sound of heavy footsteps and someone knocked at the door. I heard the door-knocker flap loosely as my mother answered it, then the sound of conversation.
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“It’s your friend,” mother said, “the one in the Air Force.”
I hurried to the door. Ivor stood there, smiling broadly, resplendent in his uniform, heavy boots shining brilliantly, his cap carrying the chequered band of the Halton Cadet.
“Hiya, Ivor!” I said. (I almost called him ‘Ali’ and only just corrected myself in time.)
“Hiya, Yoicks! How about comin’ for a walk? I’m on a forty-eight.”
I had no idea what that was but I went to tell my mother where I was going.
“Isn’t he smart?” she smiled quietly, “he looks well in his uniform.”
We set off for the cliffs, in the sunshine. I noticed he did not lope along now, he marched. He seemed taller than I remembered him, bronzed and deep-chested, harder. We exchanged news. In one way he seemed to be very grown-up but in another, he was still my form-mate, furrowing his brow at some problem of Algebra.
“What’s a forty-eight, by the way?” I asked.
“Just a forty-eight hour pass.”
“You haven’t got much time at home, then, have you? All that way from Halton and you’ll have to be back again inside two days?”
“Sure,” he said, airily and confidently, “it’s a piece of cake.”
That was another new expression; I stored it for future use.
“Where’s your brother just now? Still in Aden?”
“No, he’s been posted to Shaibah; bet you don’t know where that is.”
I shook my head.
“never heard of it before,” I said.
“Middle East,” Ivor said proudly, “Iraq – getting his knees brown good and proper.”
He started to sing joyfully what I later knew to be the anthem of all overseas R.A.F. men, “Shaibah Blues”. Then he ripped into several verses of “Charlotte the Harlot”, and while, having been very strictly brought up, I didn’t know the meaning of some of the expressions, I gathered from their anatomical connections that it was not the sort of thing one would sing at home. At least not at my home. But I smiled rather sheepishly when he’d finished.
I said, “Do you like it, in the Raf?”
(I hadn’t forgotten.)
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“It’s great,” he said decisively, “bloody great.”
He slapped me hard on the shoulder.
“It’s a great life if you don’t weaken, Yoicks!”
“What do you do?”
“Oh, square-bashing, P.T., lectures – I’m going to be a Flight Mechanic.”
I could see he was as happy as a sandboy, it shone out of him. He was alert, confident, buoyant, a complete contrast to the rebellious and scowling youth who had reluctantly forced himself to stand and, red-faced, chant, “the rain in Spain.”
“that’s fine, then,” I said, “but we don’t half miss you in the scrum.”
He never mentioned H – ‘s name.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Then, of course, the fuse which had been smouldering in Europe for six years finally detonated the bomb, and everything blew up in our faces. Not many of us were at all surprised. Although I and nearly all our little crowd who lived nearby had left school and were settling into our various jobs, as soon as Munich had come along I pushed my studying to one side. I knew there was no point in it now. It was going to be, at the very least, somewhat interrupted. So I, and my friends, played a lot of games, went to a lot of flicks, cycled a lot, and, out of working hours, lived our lives to the full, as far as we could. I started to take a girl out. Her name was Lilian, and she was extremely beautiful.
When the Battle of Britain was on I went into the R.A.F. One of my leaves, much later, coincided with one of Ivor’s, and he called at hour house, out of the blue. This time, as we were men, we shook hands firmly. He looked me up and down.
“I’m bloody well not going to call you ‘sir’,” he said.
“You’d bloody well better not try,, either,” I replied, “or I’ll stick you on a fizzer!”
He swung a playful punch at me, which, knowing Ivor, I was half-expecting. I dodged it and clouted him in the midriff, hard enough to make him wince.
“You rotten sod!” he gasped, “come on, let’s have a walk on the
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cliffs!”
I handed him a Players’, we lit up and strode away. The cliffs were partly wired off as an anti-invasion measure but we managed to get near enough to hear the same waves crashing on to the same rocks, and to smell the salt air as we walked. Until I looked at us, I felt nothing had changed; then I knew it had, really, and that you could never, ever, put the clock back to what had been.
It was about this time that the inevitable, impersonal and cruelly clinical process of the dissection of our little crowd began.
Norman was unfit for military service because of his deplorable eyesight. He was working for one of the Government Departments in London when a German bomb killed him. Peter, who lived in the next house down the street, and whose father had been drowned at sea a couple of years before, went into the R.A.F., became a Navigator, and was killed when his Wellington, from Finningley, crashed one night. I visited his mother on my first leave after it happened.
She was in a state of near-hysteria at mention of his name, and bitter, it must be said, that everything seemed to be going well for me. She did not know, of course, about my crew. I left her staring into the small fire, locked in her private world of abject misery. Then there was Jack, who was also an only son, strangely enough, also a Navigator on Wellingtons, also killed in a night crash.
By the time Alan, whom I had met in London while I was on my Intelligence course, had qualified as a Radar Operator on Beaufighters, the Germans had ceased flying over England at nights and he was transferred to non-operational flying. George also went into the R.A.F.., qualified as a pilot, then, almost immediately, the war ended. He emigrated to the U.S.A., where he had been trained.
Connie and I had a few months together at Moreton-in-the-Marsh, until I was grounded for good. I left him there, bumped into him once more, on leave, then learned of his death. He had crashed his Stirling, towing a glider, over England.
When it was all over, I asked Alan to be my best man. I would have done so anyhow, but in practical terms I had no choice – there was no-one left in our crowd now but he and I.
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So much had happened since I had last seen Ivor that he rarely had entered my thoughts. There was little reason for him to have done so, as he was a Fitter, in a pretty safe ground job in the R.A.F. Like thousands of other friends, we had been separated by the war and we would either bump into each other on some R.A.F. station, or in some outlandish place in the Far East, or eventually, we’d see each other back in the U.K. When he did enter my head occasionally, I thought perhaps he might have met and married a girl from some other part of the country, or, like George, had seen service in foreign parts and emigrated. I visualised him in a fez, thought about John’s remark about his brother, and smiled to myself at the happy recollection. But gradually, Ivor faded out of my mind.
Until I bumped into a chap who owned a shop, and who had been in our form at school. He had lived within a few hundred yards of Ivor. He, also, had served in the wartime R.A.F., as an armourer, and strangely enough, he told me he had been on the nearest Station to Breighton, at the same time as I had met J – there. I don’t know how he managed it, but he was a mine of information as to what happened to the chaps in our form. Ivor’s name did not come up immediately, as, of course, he had left school before we had done so. But in a pause during his cataloguing of old friends and acquaintances I asked him, “Where’s Ivor got himself these days? I haven’t seen him for years.”
P – was solemn, bespectacled and deliberate in manner and speech. He looked earnestly at me through his thick lenses for a moment or two, as though sorting through some mental card-index and trying to decide whether I could be trusted to hear the information which he had in store there.
“Ivor,” he said slowly, “Ivor Bradley. Yes. he went into the Raf, of course – you knew that?”
“yes,” I said, “He was a Boy Entrant, a Halton Brat, as they were known.”
A smile flicked on to and off his face, like the headlights of a car signalling ‘come on’.
“That’s right,” he continued, then paused. “Yes, well he went missing, you know.”
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For a moment I could not think what he meant. Rather obtusely I said, “You mean he left town? Went off somewhere suddenly?”
“No, no, he was aircrew, he went missing on a raid over Germany,” P – said, looking more owlish than ever.
“But – he was a fitter, surely?” I exclaimed, with an awful feeling, which I had hoped never again to experience, beginning to overtake me. Then, as the light dawned, I said, “Did he remuster to aircrew?”
P – nodded.
“Yes, that’s what happened. I saw him just after he volunteered for aircrew – you remember we lived near to one another? – and he said he wanted to do something a bit more active. So he became a Flight Engineer.”
“Good God,” I said softly, I’d no idea at all. I never dreamed that Ivor would go – like that.”
He nodded again, solemnly.
“Well, he did, I’m afraid,” he said.
He shuffled through a few more cards.
“How long were you at Breighton, by the way? I saw your name in the Visitors’ Book in the Church there, on the day after you’d been in.”
“That’s remarkable,” I said, “what a small world, isn’t it?”
I remembered very vividly going into the church with J - , the day after Johnny P – went missing.
P – said, “You must call in again sometime. I’ll shut the shop and we’ll have a cup of tea and a proper chat.”
I said yes, I would do that, and I felt I should really have made more of an effort to do so. But I was a bit of a coward about the rest of his card index, I’m afraid.
It was several more years before I learned what had happened to Ivor. Searching through a volume of aircrew losses I finally found his name. He was lost without trace, with his crew, during a raid in a Pathfinder Lancaster in the summer of 1943.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I poured myself a cup of the green tea and took a sip as I looked out of the window. But it was terribly tepid, so I threw it all away
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and found I wasn’t really thirsty after all. The sun had long since moved off the chequered tea-cosy, and it was starting to get dusk. I shivered suddenly and found I was feeling extremely lonely and extremely depressed. I looked across at the white telephone and wished to hell that someone would ring, anyone at all, even a wrong number would have done, just so that I could have heard a voice. I sat for a while, waiting, but I knew it was a stupid thing to do. Nobody did ring, so I put on my anorak and went out quickly.
I walked around for a bit. I passed a lighted pub which looked very inviting and cheerful with people smiling at one another and chatting while they drank their beer. I wished I could go in and have a few beers, with Connie, like I used to. I stopped and thought about it, but I knew it would be no good, and as M – had said, it wouldn’t solve anything. So I kept on walking and feeling bloody miserable when I thought about Ivor and Connie, and about Jack and Peter and Norman, and all my crew. And about J - . Her especially. Then I had a strong craving for a cigarette, but I knew that would be a stupid thing to do, too.
It started to rain, so finally, I made my way back to the flat. It felt empty and cold, like somewhere someone had once lived, but didn’t any more. If no-one rings before nine o’clock, I told myself, I will ring M - , just so that I can talk to someone, for Christ’s sake. I sat and looked at the telephone again for a bit and thought about it. But nine o’clock came and I didn’t do anything about it in the end, because I knew it wouldn’t be very cheerful or very much fun for her, and as I was tired and cold I swallowed a couple of aspirin and got into bed.
While I was taking them it occurred to me that there was a stack left in the bottle which could be put to very effective use, but then I thought that wasn’t exactly any part of a pressing-on-regardless effort, so I shoved the bottle firmly to one side.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to go off to sleep after all this business, and I was damned right. I kept thinking about Ivor, then I started thinking about the crowed and how much I realised I was missing them. And about J - ; her, most of all. Then I thought,
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“My God, there’s only me left now, and I’m not much damn good to anyone like this, even if there were anyone,” which made things worse. I would have given a great deal if I could have turned the clock back, to have gone back to Breighton, to that lovely summer, to have started all over again, to be meeting J – for the first time, that wonderful morning when I saw her walk into the Ops Room, when she came to attention smartly and saluted and said, “Good morning, sir.” Little did I know, little did we both know what was to happen to us.
But this was getting me nowhere, so in the end I said aloud, “Oh, Christ, I just don’t want to wake up in the morning.” Then I said goodnight to J – ‘s photograph, in our own very special way, like I always had done, to her, once upon a time, when we were together, when we were happy.
And then I put out the light.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Photograph in a book. [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] PHOTOGRAPH IN A BOOK [/underlined]
“Frankie, do you remember me?”
(Late 20th century pop song.)
I realise it is very trite to say that the unexpected is always happening. Nevertheless I have to say that something completely unexpected happened recently to me, which produced, out of the blue, a violent cocktail-shaking of emotions which I thought were firmly and peacefully laid to rest.
I flatter myself that usually I am among the first to obtain, or at least to see, newly-published books on the subject of Bomber Command in the second world war, but for one reason or another, this was not the case in relation to a recently-published history of No. 4 Bomber Group.
4 Group included the aerodromes at Linton-on-Ouse, (my initial posting as an Int/Ops Officer), Holme-on-Spalding-Moor, to which I was moved when the Canadians were about to take over the northernmost aerodromes of 4 Group to form their own 6 Group, and Breighton, the satellite of Holme, where I was to meet, fall in love with and become engaged to J - , who, when the war was over became my wife.
I should have, to have been true to form, snapped up the book on its first appearing, but for various reasons, I did not. Instead, I heard reports – all good – of it from D - , an Ex-W.A.A.F., who features on a whole page of it, complete with her charming photograph, and with whom I had been corresponding. And I heard of it from Alan, a friend who was instrumental in having a memorial installed on the village green close to the place where Pilot Officer Cyril Barton, V.C., of 578 Squadron in 4 Group, sacrificed his life in bringing back his crippled and half-crewed Halifax after the disastrous Nuremberg raid. Alan was a schoolboy at the time and was among the first on the scene of Cyril Barton’s crash. He has, most worthily, devoted a considerable amount of his time and energy to ensuring
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that Cyril’s sacrifice will never be forgotten. It was as a result of this that, just before J – died, I met Alan, a very caring man, a man who has become a true friend to me. He was given the book as a birthday present.
He and I live in neighbouring towns. We speak on the telephone quite often; we meet whenever we are able and always find much to talk about, as Alan was also in the Royal Air Force. He was thrilled to receive the book, which, naturally, contains material concerning Cyril Barton. I had been searching bookshops for it, but without success; I had been waiting for the local Library to obtain it for me.
Early one evening there was a ring at my doorbell. Alan was standing there, cheerful as ever, a welcome sight indeed. He was carrying something flat in a Sainsbury’s carrier bag. With typical generosity he said that as he and his wife were shortly going on holiday, I might as well have the benefit of the book while he was away. I was grateful to him, and leafed through it while we chatted for a while before he had to leave to go to work. He showed me a picture in the book of Cyril’s wrecked aircraft and of Alan himself, as a schoolboy, standing near to it, very soon after the crash occurred.
When Alan had gone, impressed by the high quality of the book and by the photographs in particular, many of them amateur pictures taken by wartime aircrew members, I leafed through its pages, then worked through them systematically.
There were many poignant, familiar scenes. Of aircraft and their crews, of aerodromes and their buildings, targets in Germany and the occupied countries, pictures of people I had known of by reputation, people I had known personally, many I had never known. I found myself wondering how many of those young faces smiling at me from the pages were now, like myself, turning these same pages thinking, as I was thinking, “Oh, yes, I remember a scene like that”, or how many if them were no longer able to do this. A lump was gathering in my throat as I turned to a particular page and saw, among a group of captions, one which read ‘Interrogation for 78 Squadron crews as others await their turn, following the raid
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on Berlin on 31st August/1st September 1943.’
Reading it, I thought, “Well – I was an Intelligence Officer to 78n Squadron at that time.” Then I looked at the photograph and saw myself pictured there, in the far corner of the room, writing down the replies to my questions to the crew – heaven only knows who they were – at my table.
“My God,” I exclaimed.
I could not help it and I am not ashamed to admit that my eyes flooded with tears. I had no idea that the photograph had been taken; the author’s credit was to Gerry C - , who was a pilot on the Squadron at that time, whom I knew, and with whom I am still in contact.
I felt as though I had been wrenched back in time to that night, almost fifty years ago, as though the intervening years had never been, as though I were still at Breighton, working those long and irregular hours in the windowless Operations Room alongside Derek and Pam, with one or other of the W.A.A.F. Watchkeepers – Freda, or the attractive and much sought after Billie, or with J - . I felt, strangely, that all I needed to do was to walk out of the door of this cottage and I would find myself, miraculously, back on the narrow concrete road leading from that house in the hamlet of Breighton with its tall gable-end, along past the W.A.A.F. site to the Nissen huts of the Intelligence Library, the Window Store and the Ops. Room, where the armed sentry would be on duty, where the cornfield would be stretching away to my left, up towards the perimeter track and the runways of the aerodrome. I would return the sentry’s salute and his greeting and I would open the heavy door of the Ops. Room to see, on my left, the huge blackboard with the captains’ names and their aircraft letters already entered for the night’s operation. At the top, the target for tonight, perhaps Duisburg or Mannheim or Essen – or Berlin. The route written underneath that – Base – Southwold – Point A, with Lat. and Long. positions for the route-marking flares to guide the bomber stream to the target. The time of briefing, of the operational meals, of transport out to the aircraft, of starting engines, and of take-off. Of ‘H-Hour’, the time on target. On the wall facing me I would see the huge map of the British Isles, the S.D. 300, blotched in red with gun-defended areas, stuck with broad-headed pins and coloured threads carrying information
[page break]
about navigational hazards.
In the middle of the room the big map table where, after the raid, we spread the mosaic photograph of the German town which had been the target and would plot the crews’ bombing photos. And, to the right, the place where I shall sit, near to the telephones and next to J – who is there behind her switchboard and Tannoy microphone, ready for the night’s operation. If she had been born a man she would, I know, have been a member of a bomber crew, for she thought and talked of little else but bombing operations.
Except on stand-down evenings, in the twilight, when we met secretly in the village at a quiet angle of buildings on the main road, near to the bus stop, then cycled to the ‘Plough’ at Spaldington, the nearest village to the bombing range, where, amazingly, there were no other uniforms to be seen in its homely bar. Where we would spend the long, warm evenings over two or three beers, sitting in the high-backed, high-sided wooden seats made for two, made for people like we were then, people who were young and who had met and who loved each other deeply and desperately. And sitting there, talking gently together, we would hear, above the murmur of the farm workers’ talk, the drone of some aircraft, perhaps on a night cross-country flight, perhaps heading for the other side on a raid. Then we would both sit silently, listening, not saying anything, but I know we were both praying for its safe return to base.
Sometimes, when our own aircraft had gone on a raid and we were not due on duty until they returned, we would steal a precious hour together, sitting with our arms around one another in the darkness, on a low grassy bank under some trees, not far from the unmanned railway level crossing at Gunby, the Sandra lights from the aerodrome shining distantly through the trees, heavy with their summer foliage. For some reason, whenever I hear Delius’ ‘The Walk to the Paradise Garden’ I invariably and inevitable think of J – and I at that place and those wonderful, warm summer nights we shared in the countryside of East Yorkshire, around Breighton.
The tears which came to my eyes when I saw my photograph, and the sadness which overwhelmed me, were because now, that Interrogation Room, whose walls, had they been possessed of ears, would have heard
[page break]
small, unemotionally told tales, couched in the understated phrases of flying men, of achievement, of failure, of heroism, of desperation, triumph and tragedy, that Interrogation Room is now an unoccupied ruin, and the Ops. Room is no more, now part of an isolated dwelling house. I know, for I have been back there, where among so much tragedy, I was so happy.
And J - , now, is no more, except in my memory. I sat with her, taking her cold and unfeeling hand in mine, one beautiful summer morning, such as we used to have at Breighton, and I watched her life slip away from the loveliness that had been her. But we shall meet again, I know, she and I, and all the many crew members who came into our lives and went again, and were forgotten by us, like the many dawns and the many sunsets which we shared.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
[page break]
[underlined] GLOSSARY [/underlined]
Abort – to abandon an operation and return to base.
A.C.P. – Aerodrome Control Pilot, a ‘traffic policeman’ for those aircraft within visual distance.
A.G. – Air Gunner.
Alldis lamp – high-powered lamp capable of flashing Morse letters.
A.P. – Air Publication, usually a book; Aiming Point.
A.S.I. – Airspeed indicator.
Astrodome – transparent blister half way back along the fuselage of the Wellington.
A.S.V. – Anti-surface vessel.
A.T.A. – Air Transport Auxiliary, civilian aircraft delivery service.
Base – parent Station of one or more satellite aerodromes. Three, four, or even five Bases and their satellites constituted a Group.
base – one’s home aerodrome.
Best blue – best uniform.
Bind – (noun) nuisance, annoyance. (verb) to complain, tiresomely.
Bomb plot – plan of the target area annotated with the positions of each of the Squadron aircraft’s bombing photos.
Bombing Leader – senior Bomb-Aimer on a Squadron, responsible for instruction and training of other Bomb-Aimers.
Bombing photo – vertical photo taken automatically on release of an aircraft’s bombs, thus showing the point of impact.
Boost – petrol/air mixture pressure at the engine inlet manifold.
Buck House – Buckingham Palace.
Bullseye – bomber exercise in conjunction with friendly searchlights.
Circuits and bumps – take offs, circuits and landing, the staple diet of training pilots.
C.O. – Commanding Officer.
Cookie – 4000 pound High Capacity blast bomb, nicknamed by the press and B.B.C. ‘blockbuster’.
DC3 – Douglas Dakota twin-engined transport aircraft. Also known as a C-47.
Defiant – Boulton Paul single-engined fighter/night fighter. Two-seater, the rear seat being in a rotatable 4-gun turret.
[page break]
D.R. – Dispatch rider.
Drem lighting – aerodrome runway and perimeter track lighting, protected by metal dish-shaped hoods so as to be invisible from above. First used at R.A.F. Drem, Scotland.
Early return – (later knows as ‘boomerang’) aircraft returning from an abortive sortie.
E.F.T.S. – Elementary Flying Training School.
Erk – Aircraftman.
E.T.A. – Estimated time of arrival.
Feathering – device which enabled the pilot to turn the blades of a propeller edge-on to the direction of flight, thus minimising the drag on the aircraft in the event of an engine failure.
Flak – German anti-aircraft fire.
Flights – Flight Offices and crewroom.
Flying the beam – flying from A to B by means of an aural signal transmitted by B.
Fresher – a new crew; such a crew’s early operational flights; the target for such a crew.
Fizzer, stick (or put) on a – charge with an offence.
Gee – radar navigational aid which enabled an aircraft to fix its position. Had a limited range which just covered the Ruhr and was susceptible to jamming.
Gen – information, news, divided into ‘pukka’ (true) and ‘duff’ (false). (Meteorological Officers were invariably known as Duff Gen Men.)
Geodetics – aluminium girders formed into spiral basket-work construction which made up the fuselage and mainplanes of the Wellington.
Get weaving – get going, get started.
Glim lamps/lights – low-powered lights which formed the flarepath of an aerodrome.
Glycol – Ethylene glycol, liquid coolant.
Gong – medal.
Goose-necks – paraffin flares housed in watering-can-shaped containers. Supplemented Drem lighting.
G.Y. – Grimsby.
Gyro – gyroscopic compass.
[page break]
1 Group – Bomber Group in north Lincolnshire consisting of, originally, 4 R.A.F., 3 Polish and 2 Australian Wellington Squadrons, latterly, of Lancaster Squadrons.
3 Group – Bomber Group in East Anglia consisting of, originally, Wellington Squadrons. Converted to Stirlings, latterly to Lancasters.
Halifax – Four-engined Handley Page bombers with crew of seven. Nicknamed Hali or Halibag.
Hampden – Twin-engined Handley Page medium bombers, crew of three.
Harvard – single-engined North American Aviation Co. advanced fighter trainers. Also know as Texan or AT – 6.
“Have a good trip” – Between close friends on a Squadron this parting remark was occasionally varied by the addition of “Can I have your egg if you don’t come back?” This was part of the grim humour current among bomber aircrew.
H.E. – High explosive.
High – anticyclone, high-pressure weather system.
H2S – Radar device which showed a ground plan of the earth below an aircraft.
Ident. light – identification light, a small nose-light used for flashing Morse.
I.F.F. – Identification friend or foe. Radar set carried on an aircraft to identify it as friendly to British ground defences. Set to ‘Stud 3’ it gave a specially-shaped distress trace on ground radar screens.
Int. – Intelligence.
Intercom – internal ‘telephone system’ in an aircraft.
Interrogation – now known, in view of the current overtones of ill-treatment which have become implicit in the term, as ‘de-briefing’.
I.T.W. – Initial Training Wing.
Juice – petrol
Kite – aircraft.
[page break]
L.A.C. – Leading Aircraftman.
L.A.C.W. – Leading Aircraftwoman.
Line-shoot – boast.
Link Trainer – a simulator which gave practice in instrument flying.
Lysander – Single-engined Westland Aviation Army co-operation (originally) aircraft.
Mag drop – the reduction in r.p.m. of an engine when one of its two magnetos was switched out.
Mae West – Inflatable life-jacket which gave to its wearer the contours of the famous film actress.
Mosaic – collage of aerial photographs, taken probably at different times, but from the same height, making up a complete picture of a German town, and used to plot bombing photos.
Nav. – navigator, navigation.
N.F.T. – night-flying test.
Nickels – British propaganda leaflets dropped over enemy territory. To drop the leaflets was known as nickelling.
Observer – Navigator/Bomb-aimer in twin-engined bombers prior to the establishment of these as separate categories.
Occult – white flashing beacon showing one Morse letter whose latitude and longitude was carried by Observers or Navigators (in code).
On the boat – posted overseas, or, when overseas, posted to the U.K.
One o’clock – slightly to the right of dead ahead (twelve o’clock). Dead astern was six o’clock.
Ops – operations.
O.T.U. – Operational Training Unit.
Oxford – twin-engined advanced bomber-trainer, made by Airspeed Ltd.
Peri. track – perimeter track, a taxying track connecting the ends of the runways on an aerodrome, and having aircraft dispersal points leading off it.
Pigeon – homing pigeon carried in bomber aircraft to carry a message back to base giving the aircraft’s position in the event of ‘ditching’ (landing in the sea), when the aircraft would be too low for its radio transmissions to be heard.
[page break]
Pit – bed.
Pitch controls – varied the angle of the propeller blades and consequently controlled the r.p.m. of the engine.
Pitot head – (pronounced pea-toe) fine-bore tube facing forward which supplied air pressure from the movement of the aircraft through the air and showed this pressure as airspeed on a ‘clock’ in the cockpit.
P/O – Pilot Officer (not necessarily a pilot!)
Poop off – shoot off.
P/O Prune – a cartoon character in Tee Emm (q.v.), an inept pilot forever involved in accidents of his own making.
Portreath – R.A.F. Station in Cornwall
Prang – crash, wreck, break.
Press the tit – press the button.
Prop – propeller, more properly, airscrew.
P.R.U. – Photographic Reconnaissance Unit.
Pundit – aerodrome beacon, flashing two red Morse letters which were changed at irregular intervals. The beacons were always within two miles of the parent aerodrome, although their position was changed nightly.
R.A.A.F. – Royal Australian Air Force.
R.C.A.F. – Royal Canadian Air Force.
Resin lights – low-powered lights at the rear of an aircraft’s wingtips, illuminated over this country as a warning to friendly night-fighters. Colours were changed at irregular intervals.
Revs – revolutions.
Rolling the bones – gambling with dice.
R/T – radio telephone (speech).
Sandra lights – cone of three searchlights stationary over an aerodrome, to assist returning aircraft.
Scrub – cancel.
Second dickey – second pilot.
S.D. – secret document.
S.D.300 – wall-map of the U.K., kept in the Ops Room and maintained by the Watchkeepers, showing positions of all gun-defended areas, navigational hazards and convoys.
[page break]
S.F.T.S. – Service Flying Training School. (Stage following E.F.T.S.)
Spit – Spitfire.
Spoof. – feint.
Sprog – newly arrived, newly joined, raw, inexperienced.
Square-bashing – drill.
Stall – lose flying speed.
Stirling – four-engined bomber manufactured by Short Bros.
Stooge – boring, casual or haphazard flying.
Stud 3 – Distress frequency setting on I.F.F. (q.v.)
Sullom Voe – R.A.F. Station in the Shetlands.
Sweet Caps – Sweet Caporal cigarettes, a popular Canadian brand.
Tee Emm – Air Ministry Training Magazine. Humorously written and comically illustrated aid to safe flying and good navigation and gunnery. It was extremely popular with all aircrew.
Trailing edge – rear edge of mainplane or elevators.
Trimmers – (or ‘trimming tabs’). Small adjustable sections of the aircraft’s control surfaces, enabling it to be flown, when they were carefully adjusted, without undue pressure on the controls by the hands and feet.
Undercart – undercarriage.
u/s – unserviceable.
u/t – under training.
Vic – V.
W.A.A.F. – Women’s Auxiliary Air Force; a member of same.
W.A.A.F. (G) – Officer responsible for the discipline and well-being of all W.A.A.F. on a Station.
Watchkeeper – W.A.A.F. Sergeant who acted as a clearing house for all telephoned outgoing and incoming secret operational and other information, and who was responsible for its prompt and correct transmission to the appropriate person(s).
Wellington – twin-engined Vickers bomber with a crew of six.
Wimpy – Nickname for the above. Derived from the character in a ‘Daily Mirror’ cartoon – J. Wellington Wimpy, a friend of Popeye.
[page break]
Wingco – Wing Commander. (C.O. of a bomber Squadron).
W/T – wireless telegraphy (Morse code).
Y.M. – Y.M.C.A.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Loose on the wind
Description
An account of the resource
Starts with a poem and then a series of stories which together form the memoirs of Harold Yeoman, an officer who served in Bomber Command during the war, initially as a pilot on Wellingtons and then as an Intelligence Officer. He relates his activities both professionally and personally during this time and recounts the many friends and colleagues he lost whilst on operations. He recalls his flying training on the Tiger Moths at Sywell, then on to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, Canada for further training. He was then posted to Bassingbourne O.T.U. to train to fly Wellingtons, before going to Binbrook on operational flying duties. Harold flew a number of operations before being grounded due to medical reasons. It was whilst he was grounded that his crew were reported as missing and subsequently recorded as killed in action. While waiting for his Medical Board, Harold was stationed at the Operational Training Unit at Moreton-in-the-Marsh ferrying brand new Wellingtons from Kemble and flying them to Moreton to hand over to pupil crews. He was then moved to ‘X’ Flight of the O.T.U and trained new pilots before being grounded again for medical reasons when he transferred into Intelligence for Bomber Command. He completed his R.A.F. career in Penang as an Adjutant.
Creator
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H Yeoman
Date
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1994-11
Contributor
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Tricia Marshall
Format
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Multipage printed document
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Text. Poetry
Coverage
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Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Canadian Air Force
Royal Australian Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Northamptonshire
England--Northampton
England--Devon
England--Torquay
England--Cheshire
England--Wilmslow
Iceland
Iceland--Reykjavík
Canada
Nova Scotia--Halifax
Nova Scotia--Cape Breton Island
Saskatchewan--Moose Jaw
England--Suffolk
Germany
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Netherlands
Netherlands--IJssel Lake
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Essen
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grimsby
Germany--Wilhelmshaven
Germany--Cologne
England--Berkshire
England--Reading
Netherlands
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Germany--Essen
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Sylt
Germany
Germany--Helgoland
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Germany--Lübeck
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Bochum
England--Gloucestershire
England--Yorkshire
Burma
Burma--Rangoon
Malaysia
Malaysia--Kampong Sungai Gelugor (Pinang)
Malaysia--George Town (Pulau Pinang)
Malaysia--Butterworth (Pulau Pinang)
England--Buckinghamshire
Wales--Vale of Glamorgan
Germany--Nuremberg
Saskatchewan
Nova Scotia
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
1942-05
Identifier
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BYeomanHTYeomanHTv1
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
1 Group
12 Squadron
4 Group
578 Squadron
78 Squadron
air gunner
Air Transport Auxiliary
aircrew
animal
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
arts and crafts
B-17
B-24
bale out
bombing
bombing of Hamburg (24-31 July 1943)
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
control tower
crash
crewing up
Defiant
faith
fear
final resting place
flight engineer
flight mechanic
forced landing
Fw 190
Gee
Gneisenau
grief
ground crew
ground personnel
Guinea Pig Club
H2S
Halifax
Hampden
Harvard
In the event of my death letter
Ju 88
killed in action
Lancaster
love and romance
Lysander
Manchester
McIndoe, Archibald (1900-1960)
medical officer
mess
military ethos
military living conditions
military service conditions
navigator
observer
operations room
Oxford
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Bassingbourn
RAF Bawtry
RAF Binbrook
RAF Breighton
RAF Finningley
RAF Halton
RAF Holme-on-Spalding Moor
RAF Kemble
RAF Linton on Ouse
RAF Little Rissington
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Moreton in the Marsh
RAF St Athan
RAF Sywell
RAF Torquay
RAF Tuddenham
Scharnhorst
searchlight
shot down
Spitfire
sport
Stalag Luft 3
Stirling
Tiger Moth
training
Victoria Cross
Wellington
Window
wireless operator
wireless operator / air gunner
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/194/27209/MAdamsHG424504-170215-01.2.pdf
1081940cd3d5fc25972f96a05b4902d4
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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Adams, Herbert
Herbert Adams
H Adams
Herbert G Adams
Description
An account of the resource
88 items. Collection concerns Herbert George Adams DFC, Legion d'Honour (b. 1924, 424509 Royal Australian Air Force). He flew operations as a navigator with 467 Squadron. Collection contains an oral history interview, photographs of people and places, several memoirs about his training and bombing operations, letters to his family, his flying logbook and notes on navigation.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Herbert Adams and catalogued by Nigel Huckins and Trevor Hardcastle.
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
2017-02-15
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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Adams, HG
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[inserted] (There is some duplication of notes for Ops [symbol] 1 to [symbol] 14 as I wrote something at different times (years apart.)) [/inserted]
[inserted] [symbol] Soon after we feathered that engine over “A” Flight commander flew up on our wing top & feathered 3 engines & kept up with us! He was giving us some assurance that a lightly loaded Lancaster could fly level (for a while) on 1 engine … reassurance for a new crew [/inserted]
My navigation Logs & Charts of our operations with 467 (RAAF) Squadron at Waddington, near Lincoln, from 10.9.44 to 16.1.45, with extracts from a publication giving some details of every operation by 467 & 463 Squadrons from 10.9.44 to 25.4.45.
[circled 1] [underlined] LE HAVRE, 10.9.44 [/underlined] 21 from 467, 20 from 463 as part of 992 bombers on 8 different German strong points outside of Le Havre. The targets were accurately marked and bombed, with no losses from Waddington. We took off at 1522, flew to Syerston (nearby), then did a radius of action on a track of 260oT so as to be back at Syerston at 1604 at 8000’. The winds were about what was forecast, 025/15; we bombed at 1723 at 12100’, bomb load was 11 x 1000 + 4 x 500 lb H.E. Two minutes after we dropped our bombs our Port Outer motor stopped (stray AA – fire?), we feathered the prop & flew home OK on 3 engines, airborne for 3h 55 min.
[symbol] On 11.9.44, 218 bombers from 5 Group attacked the German positions still holding out at Le Havre, with no losses. 2 British divisions were attacking Le Havre & the German garrison surrendered a few hours after the raid. The British wished to capture the port intact, but the German garrison had laid mines, and blown up most of the docks, and so it was several weeks before the port could be used.
DAMSTADT, 11.9.44. 226 Lancasters from 5 Group bombed at night, losing 1 crew (all K.I.A.) from 463 Sqdn. Our pilot, Peter Gray-Buchanan, did his “Second Dickie” on this raid.
[circled 2] [underlined] STUTTGART, 12.9.44. [/underlined] 20 from 467, 14 from 463, of 204 from [underlined] 5 Group [/underlined]. (On the same night 378 Lancasters bombed Frankfurt with success.) Post-war, a German expert – Heinz Bardau – wrote that the northern & western parts of Stuttgart city were erased in this concentrated attack… a [underlined] fire-storm resulted [/underlined], with 1171 people killed, the city’s highest fatality figure for the war.
[page break]
STUTTGART (Con’t)
467 Sqdn lost 2 crews (F/L D. Brown, 5 KIA, 2 POW, F/O Bright. 5 KIA, 2 POW.)
We took off at 1916 & set course at 1919, staying at 2500’ until 2137 when we began climbing, to 16000’ by 2233. Our last GEE fix was at 2232 and the next (after bombing OK at 2316) at 0022… so nearly 2 hours of Dead Reckoning with some map reading. (The Germans jammed our GEE receiver so that the screen was filled with “Grass”). The actual winds were about as forecast 160/15 at the target. Our bomb load was 1 x 4000 lb “cookie” & 13 J clusters (of incendiaries). Two minutes after bombing our gunners saw a fighter (they think a Do217) at about 400 yards, so we began to “corkscrew”. We continued corkscrewing until 2329, seeing one plane (unidentified) at about 50 yards! and another with a light on (!). We were airborne for 6h 51 min.
[circled 3] [underlined] BOULOGNE. 17.9.44. [/underlined] We took off at 0806 & flew to Syerston, then did a Radius of Action (on track of 260oT) to return to Syerston at 0837 at 6000’, where we did a circuit to port to lose height & get into formation at 3000! We had an uneventual [sic] trip to the target where we bombed at 8100’, dropping 11 x 1000 + 4 x 500 lb. We were airborne for 3h 26 min. 19 Lancs from each of 467 & 463 joined 762 bombers dropping more than 3000 tons of H.E. bombs on German positions around Bologne in preparation for an attack by Allied troops. The German garrison surrendered soon after the raid.
[circled 4] [underlined] BREMERHAVEN 18.9.44. [/underlined] 19 Lancs from each of 467 & 463 were part of a total of [underlined] 206 from 5 Group [/underlined], with no losses from Waddington. The post-war assessors found that this 5-Group attack, with less than 900 tons of bombs, started a [underlined] fire-storm [/underlined] which destroyed 2750 buildings in the main port area, & that [underlined] 30000 [/underlined] people were made homeless & had to live in the open until evacuated several days later.
[page break]
Extracts from a publication giving some details of every wartime operation by 467 & 463 Squadrons (loaned by Sam Nelson) RED = Daylight. BLACK = Night BLUE = We weren’t on it.
[circled 1] 10-9-44 LE HAVRE 21 from 467, 20 from 463 as part of 992 bomber raid on 8 different German strongpoints outside Le Havre. The targets were accurately marked and bombed. No losses.
D. 3h 55m. 11 x 1000 + 4 x 500. 12000’ (We lost P.O. engine during bomb-run).
Day 11-9-44. LE HAVRE. 218 bombers from 5 Group attacked German positions still holding out at Le Havre. Two British divisions were now attacking Le Havre and the German garrison surrendered a few hours later. The British wished to capture the port intact as a supply port for the armies, but the German garrison had proved spiteful – they had mined and blown up most of the docks, and it was a number of weeks before the port could be used.
[inserted] Night [/inserted] 11-9-44 DAMSTADT. 226 Lancasters of 5 Group.
Our pilot (Peter Gray-Buchanan) did his “second dickie”. 1 A/C from 463 lost (7 KIA).
[circled 2] 12-9-44 STUTTGART. 20 of 467, 14 of 463, of 204 from 5 Group. (Same night 378 Lancasters on Frankfurt … with success.) Post war, a German expert, Heinz Bardau, wrote that the Northern + Western parts of the city were erased in this concentrated attack, & that a fire-storm resulted … 1171 people killed. Stuttgart’s highest fatality figure for the war. 467 lost 2 crews: F/L D. Brown .. 5 KIA, 2 POW; F/O Bright … 5 KIA, 2 POW.
F 6h 50m 1 x 4000 + 13 J clusters. 15750’
[circled 3] 17-9-44. BOULOGNE. 19 from 467, 19 from 463, of 762 bombers dropping more than 3000 tons of H.E. bombs on German positions around Boulogne in preparation for an attack by Allied troops. The German garrison
[page break]
surrendered soon afterwards.
D. 3h 25 m. 11 x 1000 + 4 x 500. 8100’
[circled 4] 18-9-44 BREMERHAVEN. 19 of 467, 19 of 463, of 206 from 5-Group. No losses from Waddington. The post-war assessors found that this 5-Group attack, with less than 900 tons of bombs, started a fire-storm which destroyed 2750 buildings in the main port area, & that 30000 people were made homeless & lived in the open until evacuated several days later.
D 4h 45m. 18 cans (incendiaries – 150 per can). 15250’
[circled 5] [inserted] 19-9-44 [/inserted] RHEYDT/MUNCHEN-GLADBACH. 19 of 467, 16 of 463, of 227 Lancasters of 5-Group bombing the twin towns. German reports state that only between 267 and 271 people were killed. 467 lost one Lanc, crashing on returning (4 KIA, 1 POW, 2 evaded, including pilot, F/O Findlay) Master Bomber was W/C Guy Gibson, VC, DSO, DFC (of Dambusters fame) flying a Mosquito … which crashed in flames near the Dutch coast. He and his navigator (S/L J.N. Warwick, DFC) were killed and buried at Steenbergen-en-Kriesland. (Orbited target for 17mm – marking delay). 11000’
D 5h 5m 1 x 2000 + 12 J clusters.
[circled 6] 23-9-44 DORTMUND-EMS CANAL (Aqueduct). 19 of 467, 17 of 463, of 136 Lancs. from 5-Group mounting a special attack on the aqueduct at Ladbergen on the Dortmund-Ems Canal. The canal was breached, but losses were heavy 10% of the force were lost. 467 lost F/O G.A. Brown and crew. (5 KIA. 2 POW). (Orbited target losing height for 15 min extra there. Meant to bomb 14000’ but 6400’ due to cloud)
C 5h 25m 14 x 1000
[page break]
[inserted] On the unused back of one of the logsheets are some sketches (rough) of GEE BOX & the kind of blips, scales etc, displayed [/inserted]
(BREMERHAVEN, Con’t).
We took off at 1832, orbited base until 1844, when we set course at 2000’. At 1915 we needed to alter course southwards to regain our track as the winds were from about 085oT rather than 060oT (forecast). Our last GEE fix (before jamming) was on track near turning point A, and we’d climbed to 15000’, from which height we bombed at 2103. Our bomb load was 18 cans of incendiaries. The Lancaster bomb-bay, (quite long & wide, under the floor) had 14 ‘hooks’, so to use 18 cans, 3 of the hooks had a framework added to hold 3 cans side by side. The bomb-aimer could select all 14 hooks to release independently, usually at fairly short time intervals to produce a “stick” of bombs usefully spread. Each can of incendiaries released 150 small bombs about 5 cm diameter & about 40 cm long, each capable of starting a fire.
It was an easy trip for navigation, with GEE only jammed for about 1/2 hr before & after the target. We were airborne for 4h 46 min.
[circled 5] [underlined] RHEYDT/MUNCHEN-GLADBACH. 19.9.44 [/underlined] 19 Lancs from 467, & 16 from 463 were part of a total of 227 from 5 Group bombing the twin-towns. German reports state that only between 267 & 271 people were killed. 467 Sqdn lost one Lanc. crashing on returning (4 KIA but pilot, F/O Findlay, & one other evaded, & the 7th was imprisoned). The Master-Bomber was W/C Guy Gibson VC, DSO, DFC, of Dambuster fame, flying a Mosquito which crashed in flames near the Dutch coast. He and his navigator (S/L J.N. Warwick, DFC) were killed and buried at Steenbergen-en-Kriesland. We took off at 1856 and did a Radius-of-Action (track 260oT) to arrive back at Base at 1913, at 2000’. The winds were about as predicted, we kept close to track & time, and arrived at target at 2139 at 11000’, but were told to [underlined] orbit [/underlined] (to port) due to marking problems. At 2148 we were told to [underlined] orbit again, [/underlined] until, at 2151 we we [sic] told to “attack Green spot fires direct”, which we did at 2155, at 11000’.
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[photograph] D-Dog at Waddington, 1944
[photograph] [symbol] Peter at pilots window
[photograph] Our gunners
Left: Ken Nicholls, Rear Gunner
Right: Ray Giles, Mid-Upper Gunner
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RHEYDT/MUNCHEN-GLADBACH (Con’t).
At 2159 1/2 I logged “a/c hit ground – explosion – flame & smoke”
At 2201 1/2 I logged “a/c on ground, bears 000o, 2 min (51o23’, 05o51’E).
At 2211 we saw an unidentified fighter so went into the corkscrew routine, at about 51o30’N 05o00’E.
At 2213 1/2 , while in starbord [sic] turn saw unidentified fighter above us, at about 51o31’N 04o53’E, so continued to corkscrew.
At 2221, I logged “possible a/c hit ground 3 mi on port beam, about 51o32 1/2’N 04o19’E. Our bomb-load was 1 x 2000 lb & 12 “J” clusters. We were airborne for 5h 5 min.
[circled 6] [underlined] DORTMUND-EMS CANAL [/underlined]. 23.9.44. 19 from 467 & 17 from 463 of total 136 Lancs from 5 Group mounted a special attack on the aquaduct at Ladbergen. The canal was breached, but losses were heavy … 10% of the force. 467 Sqdn lost F/O G.A. Brown & crew (5 KIA, 2 POW).
We took off at 1906, did the usual Radius-of-Action to be back at Base at 1931 at 2000’. We crossed the Channel at 4000’ then climbed to 6000’, keeping nicely to track until 2047. GEE was being jammed, and the next 2 fixes showed us 10 & 20 mi North of track … they may have been wrong. We continued by dead-reckoning through cloud climbing to 14000’ and arriving at the target on time at 2148. (We were told by Master-Bomber at 2146 “to bomb 150 ft N.W. of Red Target Indicator (flare)” J. But we were in thick cloud, so [underlined] orbited to port [/underlined] losing height … very dangerous in cloud. At 2155 the Master-Bomber said “cloud base is 8000’, come in and bomb”, but we were still in cloud & had to do [underlined] another orbit [/underlined], losing height to 6300’, so that finally we could see the target at bombed at 2203 from 6400’.
At 2205 I logged “a/c hit ground & exploded 8 mi S.E. of [symbol], (at about 51o59’N 07o53’E.”
At 2228 1/2 I logged “crossed river; a/c hit ground, port beam, 3 mi.”
At 2229 “a/c directly under us hit ground, 52o15’N 06o11’E.”
At 2231 1/2 I logged “a/c hit ground ahead about 10 mi” [brackets]
At 2236 1/2 I logged “a/c (same one?) on port beam, 5 mi [brackets] 52o10’N 06o00’E
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DORTMUND-EMS CANAL (Con’t).
After leaving the target area, the winds must have been stronger than predicted from the South.
At 2253 I logged “Strong searchlights ahead … Bomb-Aimer thinks its Rotterdam” (about 10 mi North of desired track). So we immediately turned 40o to port, but copped some flak.
At 2303 we saw searchlights over the OVER FLAKKEE area, and at 2304 got our first GEE fix since our last good one at 2047 putting us about 11 mi north of track.
Our bomb-load was 14 x 1000 lb. We were airborne for 5h 25 min.
[underlined] CALAIS. 24.9.44. [/underlined] 8 from 467, & 7 from 463 of a total 188 from 5 Group. 8 were shot down, including 1 from 467 Sqdn, F/O R.A. Jones (3 KIA & 4 POW).
[circled 7] [underlined] KARLSRUHE 26.9.44 [/underlined]. 17 from 467, 14 from 463 of a total 227 from 5 Group. A short German report states “that there was damage throughout the city & lists several important buildings destroyed”. 467 Sqdn lost F/O K. Miller (1 KIA, 6 POW).
We took off at 0055 & did the usual radius-of-action to be back at base at 0113 at 3000’. The winds were much as predicted and we kept close to track & timing, our last reliable GEE fix was at 0337; we arrived at target at 0408 and Master-Bomber told us to “bomb direct on mixed Red & Green T.1’s” But we had 10/10 cloud below us, so we “went round again” & managed to bomb at 0414 from 11500’. Our first reliable GEE fix on the way home was at 0444, only just over 1 hour of jamming.
Our bomb-load was 18 cans of incendiaries, and we were airborne for 6h 50 mins.
[circled 8] [underlined] KAISERLAUTERN 27.9.44 [/underlined] 16 from 467, 15 from 463 of a total of 217 from 5 Group, did the only major raid of the war by Bomber Command. 909 tons of bombs were dropped causing widespread damage to this medium-sized city. A local German report complained that the town was not a military objective, but went on to list a catalogue of small factories destroyed. We took off at 2205,
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24-9-44. CALAIS. 8 of 467, 7 of 463, of 188 from 5-Group. 8 were shot down. 467 lost F/O R. A. Jones & crew (3 KIA, 4 POW)
[circled 7] 26-9-44 KARLSRUHE. 17 of 467, 14 of 463, of 227 from 5-Group. A short German report states that there was damage throughout the city & lists several important buildings destroyed. 467 lost F/O K. Miller & crew (1 KIA, 6 POW).
J 6h 50m 18 cans incendiaries 11500’
[circled 8] 27-9-44 KAISERLAUTERN. 16 of 467, 15 of 463, of 217 from 5-Group on Kaiserlautern, a medium-sized city, in the only major raid on it by Bomber Command during the war. 909 tons of bombs were dropped a widespread damage was caused. A local German report complains that the town was not a military object, but goes on to list a catalogue of small factories destroyed.
H 6h 20m 18 cans incendiaries 4000’
(Sept. Summary: 467 flew 199 sorties; lost 6 crews (23 KIA, 17 POW, 2 Ev.) 4 tours completed.)
[circled 9] 5-10-44 WILHELMSHAVEN 17 of 467, 16 of 463, of 227 from 5-Group. 10/10 cloud, marking by H2S. The Wilhelmshaven Diary states that only 12 people died and one bomber was shot down. 467 lost 1 crew (they ditched … hadn’t got to the target … at about 11 am. They were finally rescued about 5pm next day. After short leave, they returned to ‘ops, and were all Killed-in-Action on the Harburg raid.
(This was the only ‘trip’ on which we were allowed to use H2S (they thought enemy fighters could use its transmission to find us). We couldn’t see the markers, so bombed by H2S.)
C. 5h 5m. 18 cans incendiaries. 15000’ (We flew to target in formation escorted by long-range Mustangs
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did a Radius of Action to be back at base at 2228 at 3000’. We stayed at 3000’ until 0010, then climbed to 4500’ and stayed at 4500’ until close to target, when told to bomb from 4000’, which we did (1 1/2 min early), dropping 18 cans of incendiaries. We kept close to track all the way and only lost GEE for an hour. We were airborne for 6h 20 min.
[circled 9] [underlined] WILHELMHAVEN. [/underlined] 17 of 467, 16 of 463, of 227 from 5-Group, a daylight raid flying in formation to the target, escorted by long-range Mustang fighters. The met. forcast [sic] was for considerable cloud at the target, and we were given the most unusual priorities for bombing:-
(i) drop them visually if target is clear;
(ii) use H2S if target is obscured; or (!)
(iii) drop when you see another bomber drop its load.
We took off at 0755, did a Radius of Action to be back at base at 0811 to join formation at 1500’. My GEE set was not working, but being in formation I didn’t have to navigate anyway. Ted Pickard, the new assistant Nav. Officer, criticised my lack of effort to have some practice. At 1010 we began to climb to 15000’ at the target where at 1106 there was 10/10 cloud below. Our Bomb Aimer & I operated the H2S and aimed at the NW corner of the town and dropped our bombs at 1110 and noticed two other Lancasters dropped theirs immediately after. We flew home independently, but other Lancs were visible so we followed the stream. At 1212 I took over flying a plane for the first & only time, keeping straight & level without much trouble for half an hour. We did a bit of map-reading for the last 1/2 hour, and landed at 1306, being airborne for 5h 5 min. Our bomb-load was 18 cans of incendiaries. The Wilhelmshaven Diary states that only 12 people died and that 1 bomber was shot down. 467 lost 1 crew … they ditched before the target at about 11 am & were (finally) rescued about 1700 the next day. After short leave they resumed ops., but were all K.I.A. on the HARBURG raid on 11.11.44. Our bomb-load was 15 cans of incendiaries
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[circled 10] [underlined] BREMEN [/underlined] 17 of 467 Sq., 18 of 463 Sq., of 246 from 5 Group, a night raid on 6.10.44, with bomb-load 18 cans of incendiaries dropped from 17250’. Air borne at 1736 & did Return of Action arriving back at base at 1753 at 5000’. A good navigation trip keeping close to desired track, but winds were lighter than expected, so, despite reducing air-speed twice (10 mph each time) we did a 60o – 120o triangle to lose 7 min. This was the last of 32 major Bomber Command raids on Bremen of the war. This raid, based on the 5 Group marking method, was an outstanding success. 1021 tons of bombs were dropped, of which 868 tons were incendiaries. A detailed report (local) is available which was compiled by an official who stated that: “the night was clear, with 3/4 full moon. A huge fire area was started. Classed as destroyed were 4859 houses, 42 factories, 2 shipyards, the Focke-Wulf works & the Siemens-Schubert electrical works. The transport network was seriously disrupted.” This raid, by no more than 1/4 of Bomber Command (& hardly mentioned in the British War History) had finished Bremen … it was not attacked again in the war.
We landed at 2233 after a trip of 4hr 55 min.
[circled 11] [underlined] FLUSHING [/underlined] (WEST DYKE on WALCHEREN ISLAND in the Scheldt Estuary.) 12 of 467, & 11 of 463 of a total of 121 of 5 Group, a daylight raid on 7.10.44. We each did 2 runs dropping a stick of 7 each run (all 1000 lb HE bombs). The sea-wall was breached and virtually all the island was flooded except the rest of the sea-wall, the central tour (Middleburgh) & the town of Flushing. English newspapers had a photo of the flooded island the next day. We had no losses despite plenty of A.A. [inserted] [two indecipherable words] [/inserted]. On the same day 846 of Bomber Command attacked Kleve-Emerich & Kembs Dams. 617 Sqn. used Tallboys (12000 lb bomb) on Kembs to destroy the floodgates to [underlined] prevent [/underlined] the Germans flooding the valley in the face of the American & French advance.
We were airborn for 3h 10 min.
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[circled 10] 6-10-44 BREMEN. 17 of 467, 18 of 463, of 246 from 5-Group. This was the last of 32 major Bomber Command raids on Bremen during the war. The raid, based on the 5-Group marking method, was an outstanding success. 1021 tons of bombs were dropped of which 868 tons were incendiaries. A detailed local report is available which was compiled by an official who stated that the night was clear with 3/4 full moon … A huge fire area was started. Classed as destroyed were 4859 houses, 42 factories, 2 shipyards, the Focke-Wulfe works and the Siemens Schubert electrical works. The transport network was seriously disrupted. This raid, by no more than 1/4 of Bomber Command (and hardly mentioned in British (War) History, had finished Bremen and the city was not attacked again by Bomber Command.
D 4h 55m 18 cans incendiaries 17250’
[circled 11] 17-10-44 FLUSHING (WALCHEREN ISLAND – WEST DYKE)
12 of 467, 11 of 463, of 121 from 5-Group to successfully breach the sea-wall near Flushing. No losses. (The same day 846 of Bomber Command attacked Kleve Emerich & Kembs Dams … 617 Squadron used ‘Tallboy’ bombs on Kembs. (The idea was to destroy the floodgates to [underlined] prevent [/underlined] the Germans flooding the Rhine valley in the face of French & American advances … this was done OK.)
D 3h 10m 2 sticks of 7 x 1000 6100’ Extra 6 min. orbit for 2nd stick.
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DAY 11-10-44 FLUSHING. 14 of 467, 20 of 463, of 115 from 5-Group attacked gun positions on N. bank of Scheldt Estuary near Flushing. No losses from Waddington.
[deleted] NIGHT [/deleted] [inserted] DAY [/inserted] 14-10-44 DUISBURG Bomber command sent 1013 heavy bombers, and 473 fighters, Americans sent 1251 heavy bombers and 749 fighters … the raid was carried out on a directive from Allied H.Q. to show the Germans the power of Bomber Commands.
NIGHT 14-10-44 BRUNSWICK 19 of 467, 20 of 463 to join 233 of 5 Group. The most effective of numerous raids on Brunswick. Using the 5-Group low-level marking method, Brunswick was finally destroyed. A German report simply lists the number of hectares burnt out. 23000 people were rescued from air-raid shelters and only 200 perished. A special train was sent from Bavaria to help feed the 80000 homeless.
DAY 17-10-44 WESTKAPELLE 2 of 467, 9 of 463 of 47 from 5-Group attacking sea-wall at Westkapelle. Bombing appeared to be accurate but no report is available. No losses.
[circled 12] 19-10-44 NUREMBERG (& DUISBURG) 20 of 467, 20 of 463, of 263 from 5-Group with 7 Mosquitoes in a special low-level-marked attack on Nuremberg. The target was completely cloud-covered and low-level marking could not be used. The raid was effective but not the ‘knockout’ as hoped. (There were 103 bombers from another Group on Stuttgart and other targets, losing only 0.9%). 467 lost F/O E. Rodwell & crew (7 KIA)
D 8h 10m 1 x 2000 + 12 J clusters. 17400’
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On 11-10-44, 16 of 467, 20 of 463 of total 115 (all 5 Group) attacked big gun positions on the bank of [underlined] Scheldt Estuary [/underlined], near Flushing. The big guns prevented a sea attack to open the Estuary for Allied supply shipping (a minefield had to be cleared too), and they menaced the Canadian Army who were attacking south of the Estuary, but couldn’t match these big guns for range. I think the weather was bad, poor visibility maybe no great harm done to the guns.
On 14-10-44 there was a big daylight raid on [underlined] Duisberg [/underlined], carried out as a directive from Allied H.Q. to show the Germans the power of Allied Air Power. Bomber Command sent 1013 heavies & 413 fighters, the Americans sent 1251 heavies & 749 fighters.
That night, (14-10-44) 5 Group sent 19 of 467 Sq & 20 of 463 Sq of a total of 233, to [underlined] Brunswick [/underlined], using the 5 Group low-level marking method, Brunswick was finally destroyed. A German report simply lists the number of hectares burnt out. 23000 people were rescued from air-raid shelters & only 200 perished. Special train sent from Bavaria to help feed the 80000 homeless.
On 17-10-44, 2 of 467, & 9 of 463 Sq. of total of 47 of 5 Group attacked the sea-wall again near Westkapelle on Walcheren Island. Bombing appeared to be accurate but no report was available.
[circled 12] [underlined] NUREMBERG [/underlined]. 5 Group sent 20 of 467 Sq. & 20 of 463 Sq of a total of 263 with 7 Mosquitos to do low-level marking. There was total cloud cover which prevented the low-level marking. The raid was effective but not the knock-out hoped for. The rest of Bomber Command raided Stuttgart & other nearby targets, only losing 0.9%. 467 Sq. lost F/O Rodwell & crew (7 KIA). We took off at 1713, did a Radius of Action coming back to base at 1718 at 2000’. We reduced speed to 150 mph but still had to lose 6 min doing 60oL, 120oR, then got to [symbol] OK but had to orbit as directed.
Bombed 15 min late at 17400’ on Red & Green Target [deleted] [indecipherable word] flares [/deleted]
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Our bomb-load was 1 x 2000 lb HE, and 12 ‘J’ clusters (incendiary). After leaving the target we descended to 6000’, & flew on dead-reckoning, south of Stuttgart & Strasbourg for 2 hours until I got the first GEE fix, nearly 20 miles north of our track, but safely over France. Sid discovered that we had one of the ‘J’ bombs “hung-up”. We went to the jettison area in the Channel & tried to release it manually … did 2 orbits as we kept trying, but without success. So we flew on home to base at 4000’, landing after 8hr 9 min airborne, by far our longest flight so far.
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[inserted] [symbol] Don Coults (Engineer went to Ireland to visit his parents there. [/inserted]
After our 11th Op at Flushing we went on the usual 6-day leave, after only about 4 weeks after we started our tour. The crews were put on a roster for leave, usually each 6 weeks, but you could go earlier if a few crews before you on the list went missing.
A few items from a diary I kept then … 7th Oct: On our return from the Flushing op, we “shot-up” the ‘drome (low level) for W/C. Brill who was going home to Australia. Wrote up log book. Went to a dance with Jackie from our Mess.
8th:- Applied for leave passes. Got paid. Packed.
9th:- Collected subsistence money, & petrol coupons for bike, [symbol] got leave passes. Caught train to London, missed by Ken. Booked in at A.C.F. Club for the night. Ken arrived at 10 pm. We booked in for the rest of the leave. Nice room.
10th. Had breakfast at the Boomerang Club. I looked around & spotted Kirk Beddie from Mendooran. I’ll just go back in time to our first couple of operations to relate a coincidence. When our 8 new crews arrived together, our Nav. Leader, F/Lt Arnold Eastman, was still doing Ops himself, yet was responsible for in-service training of the navigators (especially us new ones). So he delegated the checking of log & charts, and giving advice to some of his senior navigators (Who’d lasted, say 10 ops or more). The first one who helped me twice was called Scotty – I didn’t find out his surname, it was strictly teacher & pupil, especially as he looked elderly … moustache & bald patch … (actually he was about 26). I didn’t see him again at Waddington – we had about 300 air-crew Flight sergeants there.
Anyway, at the Boomerang club, I said good-day to Kirk, we told each other what we’d been doing … he was well into a tour as captain of Sunderland crew – doing Atlantic patrols.
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I remarked that it was a coincidence that the only two fliers [sic] from Mendooran should be on leave at the same place & time. He said ‘-“Oh no, there’s another Mendooranite over here, Vernon Gall, who was the teller at the Bank of NSW there.” I replied that I didn’t know him. Kirk said:- “Well you might not have met him as you were at High School at Mudgee when your parents came to Mendooran, then you worked in Sydney, went into the Army, then the Air Force – you rarely were in Mendooran. Well, what do you know – there he is, I’ll bring him over & introduce you.” Kirk came back with Scotty. We laughed about that coincidence! After the war, when I bought the sports depot in Mudgee & transferred my bank a/c to the Bank of NSW there, Scotty was the teller.
[symbol] At the Club I also met Joe Barber & Eric Gentle who’d been with me at Cootamundra. Ken saw 4 chaps he knew at Lichfield, and I met Rupe Brown the Australian ground-crew corporal who looked after the 3 Lancs & ground crews at our dispersal corner. We went to a play, but didn’t enjoy it - - too serious. Back at A.C.F. played table-tennis with Ken & darts with Sid.
11th: Got some free theatre tickets with Sid & the play was quite enjoyable. Cinema after lunch .. Red Skelton in “Bathing Beauty”, very funny. Game of darts at the Club. Met Jack Freer, who played the saxophone on the ship across the Pacific.
12th. Ken & I got tickets for a play … a good comedy. Darts at the club after supper.
13th Got tickets for a show on Monday. Bought a wireless for £12/3/4.
[symbol] After the war, I found that Ray Meers (Rear Gunner) & Lindsay Francis (Wireless-Operator-Gunner, of Mendooran had both done tours with B.C. about the same time as I.
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14th. Bought more Xmas cards. Had lunch with Peter Dunn from Mudgee at the Club. Saw a newsreel, went to the Windmill theatre, a few beers with Ken, Supper, then table-tennis.
15th. Rupe left to return to Waddington (he’d shared our room
Visited Mme Tussauds waxworks Museum .. very good.
Walked through the Zoo. Saw a newsreel.
16th. At Boomerang Club met Ken Vidler’s crew (I think they were killed a bit later.) Walked the Embankment, saw Cleopatra’s Needle, down Whitehall, got a glimpse of 10 Downing St (cordoned off by Police). Saw the show we’d booked “Happy & Glorious”, easily the best show we’d been to. Had a few drinks with 2 girls who sleep in the railway station at Gloucester Road to be safe from air raids – they’d been doing that for years!
17th: Rain all day. Went cinema that featured 3 films … 4 1/4 hours. Had a steak (!) for 5/- then another film; couldn’t find the ‘steak’ cafe again.
18th. Packed, Sid came back from Exeter & Bristol. Played crib on the train with Sid, all the way to Lincoln. Lunch at 3, collected bike & rode back to camp.
19th. Flew at once for high-level-bombing practice … too much low cloud, so we got a fighter & did some affiliation practice. Then lunch & briefing at 1.30 for a “trip” to Nuremberg, the scene of one of B.C.’s worst losses sometime earlier, when about 500 heavies were caught below high cloud, searchlights lit them up & (from memory) nightfighters, mainly, & flak brought down 49 for a loss rate of 9%. This time it was cloud below us and 467 only lost 1 crew, F/O Rodwell’s … all KIA.
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[circled 13] 23-10-44 FLUSHING. 21 of 467, 20 of 463 of 121 from 5-Group attacked gun positions near Flushing. Visibility was bad and the bombing scattered.
D 3h 20m. 14 x 1000. Briefed to bomb at 6500’ but forced to descend (bad visibility). Bombed at 4000’
[circled 14] BERGEN 28-10-44. 20 of 467, 15 of 463, of 237 from 5-Group, to attack U-boat pens at Bergen. Target was cloud-covered and master-bomber called off the attack after only 47 planes had bombed … from below 5000’ (Mountains within 10 miles of track nearly 4500’!)
D 7h 30m. 12 x 1000 Briefed to bomb at 9000’. Orbited once [inserted] extra 6 min there [/inserted] and lost height using GEE to avoid mountains … bombed at 3800’ Diverted to Marston Moor on return (fog over Waddington). Returned next day.
[inserted] (On our final run there was AA fire from [underlined] above [/underlined] us (mountains) as well as below!) [/inserted]
[circled 15] 30-10-44 WALCHEREN ISLAND. 13 of 467, 13 of 463, of 102 from 5-Group attacked gun positions near Walcheren. The attack was successful and the Allied ground forces commenced their attack on 31st. No losses
Briefed to bomb at 6000’. Cloud over target. Two orbits made – 20 min over target area – bombed at 3500’.
D 3h 20m. 14 x 1000.
OCT ’44 SUMMARY: 467 flew 157 sorties, lost 2 crews (7 KIA, 7 Ev): 5 tours completed, incl. (C.O.) W/C. Brill completing his 2nd tour. 1 crew ditched, rescued & returned.
DAY 1-11-44 HOMBERG. 19 of 467, 17 of 463, of 226 from 5-Group attacked the Meerbeck oil plant at Homberg. Marking was scattered + only 159 planes attempted to bomb. No losses from Waddington.
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After nearly 2 hours on the way home we tried to jettison a J-Cluster (incendiary) which had “hung-up”. We turned back to try to realease [sic] it manually, but failed. So we brought it home & it was safely removed. We landed 1/2 hour late, time airborn was 8hr 9 min. Our bomb-load was 1 x 2000 lb HE & 12 ‘J’ clusters dropped from 17400’.
[circled 13] [underlined] FLUSHING [/underlined] 5 Group sent 121 incl. 21 of 467 Sq & 20 of 463, to attack big gun positions near Flushing on Walcheren Island on 23.10.44. Visibility was bad & the bombing was “scattered”. We took off at 1429, did a Radius of Action & got back to base at 1434 at 2000’. Had a good navigation trip but had to descent from 6500’ to 4000’ to see the target. 1 1/2 min before we bombed our gunners reported a Lanc. hit the sea behind us (I plotted it at 56o33’N, 03o27’E). Quite a few planes were lost and a lot of A.A. damage – we had many holes. Our bomb load was 14 of 1000 lb HE, and 1 of them “hung-up”. We tried to jettison it but couldn’t. We were airborn [sic] for 3h. 19 min.
[circled 14] [underlined] BERGEN (NORWAY) [/underlined] 5-Group sent 237 of which 20 from 467 Sq + 15 from 463, on 28-10-44 to attack U-boat pens at night. We took off at 2221 & did a Radius of Action & got back to base at 2250 at 1500’ which we maintained until 0120 (up till then we were over the N. Sea) when we climbed to 9000’ & increased speed to 180 mph as we were 3 min behind time. When we got to the target we were in cloud. The master bomber told us to come down to 5000’ … we had to orbit carefully as there were mountains East of Bergen over 4000’. I used GEE position lines to descend safely away from mountains to 3800’ when we bombed … about 10 min after the planned time. It was nice to have GEE all the way (no jamming like over Germany) & we kept nicely to track all the way. Our bomb load was 12 x 1000 lb HE. There was plenty of flak around Bergen … some from mountain tops nearly level with us! There was a lot of cloud (& maybe smoke-screen) at the target … master bomber cancelled the raid after only 47 of us bombed
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30.10.44. [symbol] 15 WALCHEREN ISLAND (FLUSHING). 13 from 467 Sqdn & 13 from 463 of 102 total (all 5 Group), daylight raid on big gun emplacements on the Southern edge of Walcheren Island. The Germans also held the Southern banks of the Scheldt Estuary. The Allies had always wanted to capture Antwerp (50 miles inland, the biggest port for unloading tanks & other heavy equipment). While ever these big guns covered both sides of the Estuary, the Allies couldn’t go in to clear the minefields. In fact the Canadian army trying to take the South bank was held up by bad weather (flooded terrain), lack of petrol & ammunition (Patton was partly to blame along with Eisenhower) for so long that eventually, [inserted] our [/inserted] [deleted] Armies [/deleted] [inserted] Marines [/inserted] took Antwerp from the East & finally [inserted] 8 NOV [/inserted] captured Walcheren Island by “sailing” through gaps in the sea-wall from the East! It then took [inserted] nearly [/inserted] another month to clear the mines & winter had set in … too late to use Antwerp for the big offensive they may have been able to mount had they cleared Antwerp 3 months earlier.
We took off at 1340, did a R. of A. & got back to base at 1356 at 1500’. The navigation was easy & we stayed on-track & on-time to the target. We’d been told to bomb at 6000’, but found cloud below, so had to orbit [inserted] twice [/inserted] lose height to 3500’, finally bombing 22 min later than planned. Our bomb load was 14 x 1000 lb HE. We had no losses. The attack was successful, and the Canadian army began their attack along the S. bank the next day.
We dropped 14 x 1000 lb HE; the flight took 3h 20 min. For October, 467 Sq. flew 157 sorties, lost 2 crews (7 KIA, 7 Evaded); 5 tours were completed; 1 crew ditched, were rescued & returned.
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Nov 1st. 226 Lancs of 5 Group (19 from 467 & 17 from 463), in daylight, raided the Meerbeck oil plant near Homberg. Weather was bad, the marking was scattered and only 159 attempted to bomb. No losses from Waddington.
2.11.44 [symbol] 16. DUSSELDORF. 5 Group was part of a big raid (992) by Bomber Command, 15 from 467, 15 from 463. Detailed German reports listed 5000 buildings destroyed, many of them industrial & production works. There were other raids that night too … a total of 1131 sorties. We took off at 1651, 15 min. late. We climbed to 17000’ & increased speed to 170 mph to catch up. At 1920 (at 18000’) we were “coned” by searchlights … very dangerous as ‘flak’ then could be fired visually. We shook them off & bombed at 1925, & I noted that an aircraft was hit about 10 mi ahead, our heading 220o.T. On the way home in the next 26 min, I made 12 more log entries of aircraft crashing to the ground with estimates of their bearing & distance from us.
The RAF had set up 2 more GEE “chains” based in Europe. I tried the RUHR chain, but found the readings “wouldn’t plot”.
Our bomb-load was 11 x 1000 lb & 4 x 500 lb HE.
The trip took 5h 20 min.
467 Sqdn lost F/O Langridge & crew (3 KIA, 5 evaded).
Dusseldorf taken (on Cook’s tour 19.6.45
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[circled 16] 2-11-44. DUSSELDORF. 15 of 467, 15 of 463 as part of 992 of Bomber Command. Detailed German reports list 5000 buildings destroyed, many of them industrial & production works. (There were other raids that night too … a total of 1131 sorties.) 467 lost F/O L. Langridge & crew (3 KIA, 5 evaded).
C. 5h 20m. 11 x 1000 + 4 x 500. 18000’
NIGHT 4-11-44 DORTMUND-EMS CANAL. 12 of 467, 12 of 463, of 174 from 5-Group attacked the canal near Munster. The banks of the canal were breached again. A report from Albert Speer to Hitler dated 11.11.44 was captured at the end of the war. Speer stated that the raids on the Dortmund-Ems canal, with attacks on the rail system, produced more serious setbacks to the German war industry at this time than any other type of bombing.
[circled 17] 6-11-44. EMS-WESER CANAL. 19 of 467, 16 of 463, of 235 from 5-Group attacked near the junction of the Ems-Weser and Mittland canals, near Gravenhorst. Markers had considerable difficulty in finding the junction due to ground haze, until a low-flying Mosquito (pilot: F/L L.C. de Vigne, and Aust. navigator, S/L. F. Boyle of 627 Sqdn) found and marked the target with such accuracy that the marker fell into the water and was soon extinguished. Only 31 planes bombed before the Master-Bomber ordered the raid be abandoned. 10 planes lost in the raid, 3 crews from 463 (all KIA). Waddington was fog bound on return & most planes were diverted to Seething. We were perhaps the last to land (in v. poor visibility).
D 5h 25m. 14 x 1000 (but did not bomb). Orbited target once, for extra 10 min. over it.
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4.11.44. 174 Lancs of 5 Group, 12 each from 467 & 463 Sqdns, attacked the Dortmund-Ems Canal, near Munster. The banks of the canal were breached again. A report from Albert Speer to Hitler dated 11.11.44 was captured at the end of the war. Speer stated then:- “that the raids on the Dortmund-Ems Canal, with attacks on the rail system, produced more serious setbacks to the German war industry, at this time, than any other type of bombing.” (In early 1945, the raids on oil targets may have been even more damaging to their war effort.)
6.11.44 [symbol] 17. EMS-WESER CANAL. 235 of 5 Group, 19 from 467, 16 from 463 attacked the Ems-Weser junction with the Mittland Canal, near Gravenhorst. The markers had considerable difficulty finding the junction due to ground haze, until a low-flying Mosquito (pilot: F/Lt L.C. de Vigne, & Australian navigator, S/Ldr F. Boyle of 627 Sqdn) found & marked the target with such accuracy that the marker landed in the canal & was soon extinguished. Only 31 planes bombed before the Master-Bomber abandoned the raid. 10 planes were lost, 3 of them from 463 Sqdn (all KIA).
We were supposed to take off at 1633 but actually took off 28 min late, so once we climbed to 11000’ we boosted our I.A.S. to 180 mph & were on-time by 1915. I logged a Lanc. crashing at 1923 1/2; we had to orbit twice [inserted] (12 min) [/inserted], at the target (due to the marking problem) … very dangerous. Logged 4 more planes crashing [deleted] at [/deleted] in the target area, & another at 1943, after we’d left the target without bombing. I couldn’t get any “joy” on either of the 2 new GEE chains. The trip took 5h. 25 min. We brought back our 14 x 1000 lb H.E. bombs.
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The weather deteriorated on the way back … the bumps were so bad that I had to hold all my navigation gear down to stop them hitting the roof, & brace my knees under the nav. table to avoid joining them there. The visibility at Waddington was bad due to fog, and most of our planes were diverted to Strubby; however, Peter did an abbreviated circuit (so he could actually keep the runway in sight) & then came in as if in a Tiger Moth, almost clipping the caravan stationed near the “funnel” (where they might use a Verey to send-you-round-again), but he landed safely … and then they closed the airfield.
Besides getting the 2 new GEE chains (RHEIMS & RHUR) to help with navigation over Germany, we now had LORAN fitted. It was similar in some ways to GEE, but depened [sic] on the radio signals being reflected from the ionosphere (only at night). The stations were widely separated … I think England, Norway, Italy … and each single reading had to be made & timed, then another [deleted] one [/deleted] tuned-in, read & timed … probably 2 min or more later, & the running -fix method used. On 9.11.44 we did at [sic] Cross-Country, using Loran, over England, ending with some high-level bombing practice … 3 1/4 hrs trip. The trailing aerial had to be used to receive Loran signals.
11.11.44 [symbol] 18. HARBURG. A 5-Group raid of 237 planes, + 8 marker Mosquitos, 19 from 467, 14 from 463 … a night raid on the Rhenania-Ossag oil refinery, near Hamburg. This refinery had been raided several times by American daylight bombers. We took off at 1627, did a R. of A. to be back a [sic] base at 1634 at 3000’.
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(HARBURG)
We climbed to 15000’ & later to 16000’ to get out of cloud, & kept nicely to track all the way to the target, getting a bit behind time all the way (no worries we were over the sea nearly all the way). We bombed 8 min late from 16000’. Our WOP (Eric) told us the Master Bomber said to bomb the centre of the Red Target Indicators (there were 4), but to ignore outside Indicators which were dummies (set up by the Germans). Half an hour before the target I wanted to use LORAN, but Eric (our WOP) said he’d been ordered not to use the trailing aerial. I relied on Dead-Reckoning from the target and got my first GEE fix 50 min later about 15 mi. N. of track.
Our bomb-load was 1 x 4000 lb “cookie”, 6 x 1000 lb, & 6 x 500 lb H.E. We could still see the plant burning from 100 mi away on our way back. Our squadron lost F/O Fedderson’s crew (7 KIA) & F/O Eyre’s crew (6 KIA, 1 POW) … one of these killed was Geoff (“Bushie”) Goodfellow, their navigator, one of my best friends … we played a lot of cards together & we bunked opposite each other in our room. He came from Tooraweenah (father ran the “Mountain View” hotel there), & he said I was the only person he’d met that had even heard of the place, let alone been there, which I had.
F/L Kynoch’s plane was hit & badly damaged, but he crash-landed it at Manston (an emergency ‘drome on the coast) & he & the crew survived.
The flight lasted 5h. 35 min.
On 13.11.44 we did our “20 SORTIE CHECK”, on a flight of 55 min. We’d only done 18 ops plus the 2 BULLSEYES at Lichfield & Swinderby.
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[circled 18] 11-11-44 HARBURG. 19 of 467, 14 of 463, of 237 from 5-Group, plus 8 Marker Mosquitos attacked the Rhenania-Ossag oil refinery at Harburg (near Hamburg). This had been attacked several times by American (day) bombers. Brunwig’s ‘History of Hamburg & Harburg’ (air-raids), gives the raid a brief mention. (We could still see the plant burning 100 miles away on our way home.)
467 lost F/O. M. Fedderson & crew (7 POW), and F/O. T. Eyre & crew [inserted] (G Goodfellow was the Nav) [/inserted] (6 KIA, 1 POW). F/L Kynoch’s plane was hit and badly damaged – he crash-landed at Manston (an emergency ‘drome on the coast).
D 5h 35m. 1 x 4000 + 6 x 1000 + 6 x 500 16000’
[circled 19] 16-11-44 DUREN. 15 of 467, 15 of 463, as part of 1188 from Bomber Command, attacked Duren, Julich & Heinsburg in support of the American 1st & 9th armies which were about to advance on this area. Raids were made by 1239 American heavy bombers on targets in the same area. (this was the biggest raid we took part in … there were planes to the horizon all the way, heaps of fighter escorts.) 9400 tons of bombs dropped. The result was disappointing. Heavy rain and wet ground prevented much of the tank assault and slowed the supplies of artillery ammunition and the armies’ advance was slow and costly. (For our part, the centre of Duren was reduced to rubble.) G/C. Bonham-Carter, O/C of Waddington led our Group, as ‘second dickie’ to the crew who had bombed the wrong target on a daylight raid on Flushing (23-10-44?), killing some Canadians.
D 5h 25m. 12 x 1000. 10500’
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16.11.44 [symbol] 19. DUREN (daylight). 15 planes from 467, & 15 from 463, were part of a big effort by Bomber Command (1188 planes) attacking Duren, Julich & Heinsburg in support of the 1st & 9th American Armies which were about to advance in this area. Raids were made on other targets in this area by 1239 American heavy bombers. This was by far the biggest raid we took part in … there were planes to the horizon all the way with heaps of fighter escort … [deleted] B [/deleted] 9400 tons of bombs were dropped, but the result was disappointing. Heavy rain & boggy ground prevented most of the tank attack and slowed supplies of artillery ammunition with the result that the advance was slow & costly. For our part, the centre of Duren was reduced to rubble – it may have needed bulldozers to clear a path through it! The base commander at Waddington, Gp/Capt Bonham-Carter, led 5 Group as ‘second dickie’ to one of our crews who had bombed the wrong “target” (a smoke-generator) on an earlier daylight raid near Flushing on 23.10.44, killing some Canadian army men.
The navigation was easy. Our bomb-load was 12 x 1000 lb H.E. dropped from 10500’. Flight time: 5h 25 min.
[two photographs]
Snaps of Duren taken on the “Cook’s Tour” I did on 19.6.45.
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Extracts from Diary –
18.11.44 navigators briefing at 1.30 for a v. long trip. Not enough time for preparation. Our crew just got out to the “kite” when the trip was “scrubbed” …joy! After tea we went down to the local Horse & Jockey (Hotel). Saw a bloke about his car, & bought it for £3 … a little Morris 8 HP Sedan
19.11.44 To navigation section before lunch for another briefing, to the same place as yesterday, more time for preparation & less to do. No lunch … sandwiches at briefing … then it was scrubbed again. Collected car.
20.11.44. Went to briefing for another daylight raid on the Dortmund-Ems canal, but it was scrubbed. Went to town with Ken Nichols & Ken (of ground crew) … wanted to go to the theatre, but all seats were sold, so we went to the cinema & saw “White Cliffs of Dover.”
21.11.44. Briefed again for the same canal raid as yesterday, chart was already done. [symbol] It was scrubbed at the 11th hour & we missed lunch … again had sandwiches in the briefing room.
21.11.44 [symbol] 20 DORMUND-EMS CANAL
We took off at 1726, did a R. of A. & got back to base at 1754 at 2000’. The winds were light & fairly consistently Westerly at first, then N.W. It was easy to keep on track & close on-time. At 2020 I logged “Lanc, crashed & blew-up 15 mi. astern”. We’d been at 10250’ until 2058 when WOP told us to descent to 3-4000’ … we did so, fast, and bombed at 2103. At 2108 I logged: “Aircraft crashed below us 3 mi. past other target.” At 2232 we jettisoned a hang-up bomb in the sea. Landed at base at 2337, time airborne 6h 11 min. Our bomb-load was 13 x 1000 lb H.E.
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21.11.44. [symbol] 20. DORTMUND-EMS CANAL, near LADBERGEN.
15 from 467, 15 from 463 bombed Dortmund-Ems & Mittland Canals; as part of Bomber Command maximum effort of 1345 heavy bombers attacking 6 targets in this general area.
No losses for 5-Group.
We took off at 1726, did a R. of A. getting back to base at 1754 at 2000’. I had a good navigation trip, GEE from England lasted until 2020, then the RUHR chain worked to the target area. I logged a Lanc. blowing-up 15 mi astern at 2020. We were briefed to bomb at 10500’ but, 5 min before out T.O.T our W.O.P. (Eric) got word that we descend to 3 – 4000’ to get below cloud. We descended quickly & bombed 5 min later at 4500’; then began climbing again into the clouds. Tried Loran for fixing without success. We had a bomb hang-up, but jettisonned [sic] it in the sea at 2222.
Our bomb load was 13 x 1000 lb H.E.
The trip took 6h 10 min.
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This is an enlargement of the smaller print of the area bombed repeatedly … DORTMUND EMS CANAL.
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[photograph] Open bomb-bay of a Lanc. loaded with 1000 lb H.E. bombs. Bomb-aimer could select each one to drop separately at predetermined intervals (usually close together as a “stick”.)
[photograph] Our Mid-upper gunner Ray Giles, near his turret – 2 Browning .303 machine guns
[photograph] Lanc’s in formation on a daylight raid. Nearest is PO-J
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On a low-level “Cooks Tour” from Wigsley on 19th June, 1945 (after war’s end in Europe), I took some photos with the old box Kodak.
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The Dortmund Ems canal where it was built above a stream, shown clearly in the left photo. The embankments here were bombed repeatedly, 8 times I think. We did 3 of Ops there and one at the nearby Ems-Weser canal.
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Broken bridges over the Rhine at Duisberg – we didn’t bomb there, but 5 Group did.
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The Krupps works at Essen, which was regularly bombed by the RAF during most of the war. Including some 1000 – bomber raids.
[photograph] Wrecked bridges at Cologne, another regular RAF target; somehow the Cathedral survived.
[photograph] The railway marshalling yards at Hamm received plenty of “attention”
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Dusseldorf was regularly bombed … we did our 16th Op. there
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[circled 20] 21-11-44. DORTMUND-EMS CANAL, (near LADBERGEN). 15 of 467, 15 of 463 as part of 1345 Bomber Command heavies attacked 6 targets in this general area. 5-Group targets were the Mitteland and Dortmund-Ems canals … without loss.
D 6h 10m. 13 x 1000. Briefed to bomb at 10250’, got 5 min warning by radio to descend to cloud base … bombed at 4500’.
[circled 21] 23-11-44. TRONDHEIM. 16 of 467, 4 of 463 of 171 from 5-Group, incl. 7 Mosquito Markers, to attack U-boat pens at Trondheim. The target was covered b y a smokescreen and could not be marked. The Master Bomber ordered the raid abandoned. No losses. (The weather was bad; big wind changes. Many jettisoned bombs in North Sea or diverted to North Scotland due to fuel shortage … we were the only one to return to Waddington with bombs still aboard.)
D 10h 55m. 9 x 1000 (brought home).
26-11-44 MUNICH (Our rear gunner, K. Nickols, went on this trip as ‘spare bod’.) 270 Lancs from 5-Group, 467 lost F/O Findlay & crew (crashed – out of fuel … their Nav. vomited and blocked his oxygen supply, went unconscious and they got lost in cloud. But all survived the crash and were flown home by the Americans on 1.12.44.
NOVEMBER SUMMARY 467 did 148 sorties, lost 4 crews (9 KIA, 8 POW, 11 Ev) 8 tours expired. 2 were badly wounded.
NIGHT 4-12-44 HIELBRONN. 282 from 5-Group (Main force attacked Karlsruhe). 467 lost F/O J. Plumridge & crew (6 KIA. 1 POW). F/L Bill Kynock & crew attacked by fighter, rear gunner killed (F/S R. Steele), and plane badly damaged (we think it was ‘D’.), crash landed at Manston (emergency airfield).
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23.11.44 [symbol] 21. TRONDHEIM (Norway). 5-Group sent 171 planes (including 7 Mosquito markers) to attack the U-boat facilities there. This was a very long trip mostly over the North Sea at low-level (1000’) in bad weather, rain & severe wind-changes. Tankers topped us up with petrol at the end of the runway before we took off at 1609, 12 min late. GEE ran out at 1848 … over 2 hours before we’d reach the target. We were unable to identify where we crossed the coast, so we continued on northwards and at 2050 saw the target lit up by flares to our left. A wind velocity to use for bombing was received by radio, and at 2055 we saw yellow Target Indicators about 10 mi to Port. We turned to a Westerly course. At 2102 we were told to abandon the raid as a smoke-screen obscured the target. We continued by Dead Reckoning & B.A. (Sid) identified a pin-point at 2112. We descended from 9000’ to 1000’, and at about 2130 discovered that the earlier pin-point was wrong, giving a new one near Smolen Island. At 2248 I got my first GEE fix (after 1 1/2 hr since the target) … about 50 mi NW of where we thought we’d be … big wind change. Pilot (Peter) & I decided to aim to land at LEUCHARS (Nth Scotland) as we had a head-wind. Then, at 0024 I got a good fix & found the wind had eased & changed to NE, and by 2130 was from the NW & getting faster. Pilot & Engineer consulted with me & we decided to try for Waddington, cutting our speed back from 190 to 170 mph. The wind held about NW & increased to about 45 mph, so we reached base OK & landed at 0302, with only about 80 gallons left. Most of our planes jettisonned [sic] bombs in the North Sea, or landed at Leuchars. We were the sole plane to bring our bombs home to Waddington. Trip-time 10h 53 min.
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26.11.44. 5-Group sent 270 heavies to MUNICH. Our rear-gunner, Ken Nicholls went as a “spare-bod” in place of a sick crewman. One of the 467 crews crashed, out of fuel. Their navigator had vomited and blocked his oxygen supply, he went unconscious, and they were lost in cloud. They all survived the crash-landing and were flown back by the Americans on 1.12.44.
November summary for 467 Sqdn: 148 sorties, 4 crews lost (9 KIA, 8 POW, 11 Evaded); 8 tours expired. 2 men were badly wounded.
4.12.44 (night). HEILBRONN was attacked by 282 from 5 Group, while the main force of Bomber Command attacked Karlsruhe. 467 Sqdn lost F/O Plumridge & crew (6 KIA, 1 POW). F/Lt Bill Kynoch’s plane was attacked by a fighter, his rear-gunner killed (F/Sgt R. Steele) & the plane badly damaged … we think it was our favourite “D”. They crash landed at the emergency ‘drome, Manston, & we heard that “D” was a write-off.
6.12.44. GIESSEN (night) attacked by 255 of 5-Group (19 from each of 467 & 463 sqdns) while the rest of Bomber Command bombed Osnabruck & Leuna (oil plant).
8.12.44 URFT DAM [symbol] 1. 205 of 5-Group (10 of 467, 15 of 463). 9/10 cloud over target, no result observed. No loss.
10.12.44 URFT DAM [symbol] 2. 5-Group (15 [inserted] each [/inserted] of 467 & 463). All were recalled before the target due to bad weather & visibility.
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More extracts from Diary.
23.11.44. No operations on. Went to Lincoln with Peter & Don in my car to see about getting Peter’s car fixed. Went to the pictures.
Feeling very crook … terrible cough.
24.11.44. Went on sick parade. The Dr. reckoned I was OK for flying … I didn’t. had heard there was to be a long trip that night & saw the Dr. again .. he put me into Sick Quarters & I slept!!! about 20 hours a day. Our crew wasn’t listed for the operation that night, but our rear-gunner, Ken Nichols, opted to go with Bill Kynock’s crew … but the trip was scrubbed anyway. Ken visited me.
25.11.44. Still in sick-quarters. No ops. Ken, Don & Rupe came to see me, then they went to an ENSA concert on the base.
26.11.44. Out of sick-quarters. Ken went with Kynoch’s crew to MUNICH in crook weather. It was OK at the target, quiet & a good ‘prang’. Went over to [deleted] 3 Sqdn [/deleted] SICK QUARTERS to see Ted Pickerd who’d been our Navigation analysis ‘joker’ for some months. Played pontoon, won 10/- Kynoch’s crew were diverted to Langham.
27.11.44. Went to Swinderby & got 3 gal of petrol in the car. Ken & Kynocks crew came back from Langham.
28.11.44. No ops. Made up a list of comments on ops that had to be done … big job. Flew to Thornaby [deleted] to bring [/deleted] & back in ‘D’ [deleted] back [/deleted] with a ferry crew for their plane.
Navigators party on tonight … too bad Ted Pickerd is still in sickquarters. Des Sands (o i/c A flight … Sqn Ldr, DFM on 2nd or 3rd tour) Lionel Hart & I took others in cars, the rest used bikes. Wionderful show. Bags of beer & fun.
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NIGHT 6-12-44 GIESSEN 19 of 467, 19 of 463, of 255 from 5-Group. (Main force attacked Osnabruck & Leuna).
DAY 8-12-44. URFT DAM [symbol] 1. 10 of 467, 15 of 463 of 205 from 5-Group. 9/10 cloud over target and no result observed. No loss.
DAY 10-12-44 URFT DAM [symbol] 2. 15 of 467, 15 of 463 … 5-Group. All recalled before reaching target due to bad weather and visibility.
[circled 22] 11-12-44 URFT DAM [symbol] 3. 15 of 467, 15 of 463, of 233 from 5-Group, with Mosquito Markers. Hits observed but no breach seen. (We brought our bombs home, despite doing an orbit … (hoping for gap in clouds) … against orders … extra 7 min. in target area. Very accurate radar-directed flak; we lost P.O. motor.).
F 6h 5m. 14 x 1000 (brought home) (9750’)
[circled 23] 17-12-44 MUNICH. 22 of 467, 19 of 463 of 280 from 5-Group, with 8 Mosquito Markers. (Main force attacked Duisburg, Ulm and Munster … a total of 1310 heavies, 1.1% loss.) Reconnaissance showed severe damage. 467 lost F/O T. Evans & crew (all 7 Ev) … they collided after bombing with an engine on fire.
M 9h 45m 1 x 4000 + 9 cans + 1 MONROE 11750’
[circled 24] 18-12-44 GDYNIA. 19 of 467, 15 of 463 of 236 from 5-Group. 2 crews from each flight attacked 2 pocket Battleships anchored near the port (which was the main target) … we hit “Lutzow” with 3 of our bombs (& 1 v. close in water) nicely near funnel area. Considerable damage to port area.
M 9h 45m. 10 x 1000 S.A.P.
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29.11.44. No ops. Went into Lincoln to try to register car … no joy; had to go to Sleaford, but no time. Tore around garages [inserted] for [/inserted] a battery & brake adjusters, but no joy. Finished off the navigation comments from yesterday. Decided to sell my autocycle & got a buyer. Played pontoon, won 3/-.
30.11.44. No ops. Went to Sleaford, got car registered & oil changed. Got coupons for petrol to go on leave, packed up, got leave pass, laundry & shoes. Went into Lincoln with Ken & got petrol & a new battery. Saw about trains for Ray & Eric for tomorrow.
1.12.44. Went out to our dispersal where mechanics helped get new battery in & working after a lot of trouble … bludged a couple of gallons of petrol from Ken (ground crew). Left at 10.10, had lunch at Nottingham & then went on to Birmingham, getting to where Don was staying at 3.30. had tea there, played solo until 1.30 am, went down to “Old Farm” at [inserted] ? Wesley [/inserted] Westly Castle for the night.
2.12.44. Duck eggs for breakfast! Lunch at Police Station (don had been a policeman in Birmingham before he enlisted for air crew.) Then tea at Mrs Benlays (friend of Don). Met Ken & Mrs Smith & Margaret from next door. Played solo. Went to Police Club for drinks. More solo ‘till 2 am. Slept next door at Smiths.
3.12.44. Breakfasts on both at Smiths & Benlays. Called at jewellers for Ken’s watch, but no luck. Set off for Swindon. Lunch at Swan’s Nest in Stratford. Looked over Shakespeare’s birthplace, got postcards & saw Home Guard parade. Went on to “Stow-in-the-Wold” & stayed the night in a nice little pub. Played darts, crib & drank beer.
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[photograph] Engineer Don Coutts & Mid Upper Gunner Ray Giles, Birmingham
[photograph] Rear Gunner, Ken Nichols, & Ray Giles at Benlay’s place at Birmingham where we stayed on leave 1/2 Dec ’44.
[photograph] Ray Giles, at Benlays’ place, Birmingham
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More from the Diary.
4.12.44. Rachel Swindon for dinner. Found our way out to Clyffe-Pyhard & saw Bunty Duff & got back just before dark. Had tea at fish & chip shop & went to pictures – saw Jon Hall & Maria Montez in ‘Cobra Woman’.
5.12.44 After breakfast towed an Engineers car to get it started. Bought side-lamp for car. Reached Slough via Reading for lunch & called [deleted] on [/deleted] at Margaret Vyner’s place … she was in London meeting Hugh Marlowe, home from France on 72-hours leave. Saw Mrs Vyner & Hugo, had afternoon tea & went to Slough, booked in at Salthill Hotel & had tea. At pub, picked up 2 girls & took them home but got lost on the way back. Turned in at 12.30.
6.12.44. Looked around a lot of shops in Slough & finally got some bulbs for dash-lights. Met an old Aussie-Scot, Macintosh for yarn & drinks; he showed us his home at 26 Windsor Rd. Slough. Drove to Windsor & looked over Eton College on Founders Day, … going for 504 years. Saw Windsor Castle & had tea there. Played cards with Ken, before & after tea.
7.12.44. After breakfast caught train to London & booked in at A.C.F. Club. Met Scottie Gall & Kirk Beddie again; had steak (!) & mushrooms at Athens Cafe; went to pictures & saw “Casanova Brown”. More steak with onions then a variety show at the Empire in Finsbury Park. Went back tp pub at Gloucester Rd & saw girls we knew from last leave in London. Also ran into Syd & Peter.
8.12.44. Arranged to meet Peter on the way to Cambridge. Got car at Slough & was 1 hr late in meeting Peter. Had lunch at Cambridge Arms. Saw a good picture “Love Story”. Met a navigator I knew at Brighton … Cameron, who’d done 35 ops in Mosquitos. More steak & onions for supper.
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9.12.44. Looked at some of Cambridge University … not much to see. Had lunch at roadside pub and got to Lincoln about 4.30. collected photos, had drinks at the Saracens head & went to a show at the Royal Theatre. Peter’s car had a flat tyre. Got battle-dress from cleaners & put overcoat in. A good leave
10.12.44. Welcomed back to nav. section. No ‘war’ today. had an interview for commission with Group-Captain Bonham-Carter. W/Cdr Bill Brill had told us not to apply for a commission until we’d done about 20 “trips”. But after he left, in October, the new C.O. W/Cdr J.K. Douglas invited anyone interested in a commission to apply, regardless of the number of ops. I did, but didn’t impress him with my answers (especially when I said “probably not” to his question “would I be more use to the air force with a commission?”. He didn’t recommend me. But Bonham-Carter said something like this: “I have 2 W’ Cdrs here, at 467 & 463; one C.O. recommends virtually all applicants after they’ve done 20 trips; the other (Douglas) likes to interview them at depth & knocks a few back. I have to make the final decision. You seem to be doing well. I’ll look at you again next month.” (He saw me in Mid-January with only one Op (Brux) to go, and recommended me without any further questioning.)
11.12.44. Took laundry & boots down but didn’t have time to check them in … there’s “war” on. Went to briefing room & sorted out Gee charts. The briefing was hurried; the plane we got, (F), was slow, climbed poorly, and we were late getting to the target.
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11.12.44 [symbol] 22. URFT DAM No 3. Daylight raid by 233 from 5-Group (15 each from 467 & 463 Sqdns), with Mosquitos doing the marking. Hits were observed but no breach seen. We brought our bombs back despite doing an orbit (against orders) hoping for a gap in the clouds … we spent 7 minutes extra over the target, and experienced very accurate radar-directed flak just after leaving. We lost our Port-Outer motor.
We took off at 1205, did a R. of A. returning to base at 1219, at 6000’. We climbed to 12000’ & “cruised” at 170 mph, but gradually got behind time (5 min late at 1350) but only 3 min. late at the target. This plane, F, would not go any faster with our bomb-load of 14 x 1000 lb. H.E. Pilot feathered our Port Outer motor at 1554 (maybe some flak damage). Jettisonned [sic] 2 bombs at 1645 which took extra time … ending up 47 min. late home. Flight time 6h 5 min.
17.12.44 [symbol] 23. Night-raid on MUNICH by 280 from 5-Group, (22 from 467, 19 from 463), with 8 Mosquito markers. The rest of Bomber Command attacked Duisberg, Ulm & Munster, a total of 1310 ‘heavies’, for a 1.1% loss rate. Reconnaissance showed severe damage. 467 lost F/O T. Evans & crew (all 7 Evaded) … they collided after bombing with an engine on fire; they baled out before the plane crashed.
We took off at 1636, 3 min late, and immediately began climbing on course, south for Reading, then into France near Le Havre, mostly at 4000’, very bumpy, tried 5000’ to get out of cloud, then down to 3000’ & back to 4000’. As we neared the SW corner of Switzerland we climbed to 15000’ & skirted its southern border, seeing lights on in some villages.
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We had a good navigation trip to the target, keeping close to track & timing OK. We used GEE until 2026, then some LORAN fixes (some inaccurate) but sighted target at 2152, descended to 12000’ to bomb at 2211.
At 2214 I logged “air-to-air firing up – qr. to beam”
At 2215 1/2 “ “ “aircraft went in 40 mi ahead”.
We began descending in steps to 5500’ & continued to use LORAN until 2350 when GEE came good.
I got very airsick about 2250 (first time since Cootamundra!), and at about 2310 saw flak coming up from Mulhouse, so we turned to Port to avoid it. At 0110, the GEE box went unserviceable (U/S), and we read PUNDITS back to base where we landed at 0220. Flight time was 9h 45 min, bomb load was 1 x 4000 lb “cookie” & 9 cans of incendiaries & 1 Monroe.
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18.11.44. [symbol] 24. GYDNIA (“A” Target: Pocket Battleship LUTZOW).
A 5-Group raid, 236 planes, 19 of 467 & 15 of 463 Sqdn, on the Naval base. Considerable damage to the port area was reported. Two crews from each flight of both squadrons were to arrive at their targets … two pocket battleships, 9 min before the rest of the Group were to start bombing; the markers & the accompanying flare-force (they dropped lots of long-burning flares to light up the area for the Markers) arrived then too. We were supposed to see the battleships in the light of the flares & do our bombing between 2151 & 2156. Our bomb-load was 10 x 1000 S.A.P (Semi-Armour Piercing) bombs … unlikely to be really damaging, although the decks of the pocket-battleships were much thinner than on “real” battleships (although they had 16” guns, the same.)
We took off at 1712, already 10 min later than planned, & flew at about 3 – 4000’ at 180 mph until 2000, when we climbed to 11500’. GEE had given out at 1850, but LORAN was OK & I got good signals at 1920, but we hadn’t been given Loran charts that covered beyond 56oN. So it was dead-reckoning & the hope of a pin-point later. Then, at 2055 1/2, I got a Loran fix, on track, just below the 56oN latitude, which could be plotted. I got another dubious fix at 2105 1/2, about 5 mi Sth of track, then another good one at 2122 1/2, on track again. I got another good Loran fix at 2133 which allowed me to estimate the wind velocity at 190/23. We turned on dead-reckoning 3 min late at point E, & arrived at point F, on dead-reckoning 2 min late, and steered visually for our target. At 2150, Syd, our Bomb-Aimer, reported a smoke screen starting over the battleships area. The flares went down at 2150 1/2, but didn’t penetrate the smokescreen. At 2153 our Pilot, Peter, decided to “go-round” again. As we turned Syd saw the Lutzow, [indecipherable word] behind us now. We flew North East
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for a while, did a timed run, using his stop-watch, to be back over our target at 2158. But again, the smoke-screen obscured our target. We turned Northwards & repeated the timed run. All this time we experienced a lot of radar-predicted flak, close enough to keep rocking our plane. While we were doing this 3rd orbit, Peter said: “If we can’t bomb this time, we’ll go round again and lose height to bomb at low-level.” Syd said: “Geez, that would be bloody dangerous.” At 2206, the target was clear & we bombed accurately. On the photograph which we saw back at base the next day, 3 of our bombs hit the deck amidships, one very close to the funnel, and a 4th bomb right alongside in the water. We’d actually bombed from 11750’ at 150 mph (I.A.S.), heading 260oT. At 2208 I logged: “Lanc. crashed Stb. Bow, 20 mi.” We crossed the coast at 2216 and got a Loran fix at 2222 1/2, only 3 mi. S. of track. The rest of the trip home was uneventful, we kept close to track and landed at 0303, flight-time 9h 51 min.
[drawing of area map]
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I did some research about the Lutzow & Admiral von Sheer. They were both damaged and the Lutzow was towed to Swinemunde, the Admiral von Sheer to Keil, where, on the night of 9/10 April ’45, a raid using 591 planes, sank the von Sheer, and so severely damaged the light cruised Emden & the heavy cruiser Hippo, that their crews then scuttled them … they were unable to put to sea. Then on the night of 16/17 April, 617 Squadron attacked Swinemunde, & effectively disposed of Germany’s last pocket battleship, Lutzow, although I read that its crew also finally scuttled it, as it was beyond repair
[symbol] [underlined] 25 [/underlined]. 27-12-44. 5-Group sent 200 planes (15 of 467 & 12 of 463) to bomb [underlined] RHEYT [/underlined] (our [symbol] 25 trip), the railway yards there, part of Munchen-Gladbach, where we’d done our 5th trip. We took off at 1204, did a R. of A. to be back at base at 1220 at 6000’. We were supposed to fly in formation but there was a lot of confusion … we finally flew individually until 1309 when we joined the formation. Near the target, the other planes began turning towards the target long before reaching the GEE lattice line we were told to follow. We did as we’d been told, and bombed at 1505 1/2 from 17200’. The trip home was uneventful, the navigation easy, as we had GEE all the way, using the RHUR chain over Germany. We had some flak going close just after the target at 1512 1/2. We landed at 1705, flight-time was 5h., bomb-load was 14 x 1000 lb. H.E.
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[deleted] [circled [indecipherable number]] [/deleted] NIGHT 21-12-44. POLITZ. 17 of 467, 17 of 463, of 207 from 5-Group attacked synthetic oil plant. 3 Lancs lost over Europe, but 5 crashed in England on return … 90% of airfields were fogbound … most were diverted to Scotland, but some were so short on fuel they had to try to land in fog. (F.L. Kynoch crashed ‘M’ at Waddington, but no injuries.)
[circled 25] 27-12-44 RHEYDT. 15 of 467, 12 of 463, of 200 from 5-Group, attacked railway yards at Rheydt. No loss
C 5h 0m. 14 x 1000. 17200’
DAY 28-12-44 MOSS SHIPPING (OSLO FIORD). 4 of 467, 6 of 463 of 67 from 5-Group attacked a large naval unit off Oslo Fiord. No direct hits claimed.
30-12-44 HOUFFALIZE. 12 of 467, 12 of 463 of 166 from 5-Group attacked the German supply bottleneck at Houffalize. Cloud obscured target. (Main force of 500 heavies attacked Kalh-Nord railway yards near Cologne … results obscured by cloud.)
DEC ’44 SUMMARY. December ended in a long spell of cold, fog & snow which restricted operations and serviceability. 467 flew 172 sorties, losing 2 crews + 1 gunner. (7 KIA, 1 POW, 7 Ev) 8 crews finished tours. 1 crew crashlanded [sic] and were rescued.
(The 2 Lanc. Squadrons (467 & 463) had learnt that the 5-Group method of marking was the most cost-effective way of striking heavy flows to the enemy. From 17.8.44 (when Bomber Command returned to attacks on Germany proper, after the many short trips for 2nd Front, a total of 72881 sorties from which 696 aircraft were lost (… about 1%). In this period of 137 days [deleted] 467 & 463 [/deleted] [inserted] Bomber Command [/inserted] made 530 sorties per day (av.) & lost 5.1 planes per day (av.) … 265708 tons of bombs were dropped.
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[circled 26] 1-1-45. DORTMUND-EMS CANAL 18 of 467, 5 of 463 of 102 from 5-Group, breached the canal near Ladbergen, (the Germans had repaired the canal again.) They were using an enormous number of slave labourers (‘Todt’ workers … 40000 we heard) to repair these vital links in their transport system. (And so when the barges began to run again they ‘knew’ the Lancs would soon come, and they were ready with AA & fighters … it was a hot spot.)
(On this trip F/O Merv Bache got an immediate DSO … their B/A. was Sam Nelson (WaggaWagga) … onfire, [sic] crashed just inside Allied lines … they’d all baled out in time. F/S Thompson of 9 Sqdn. got a posthumous VC also.)
B 6h 40m. 11 x 1000 + 4 x 500. 10900’
Landed at STRUBBY on return, due to fog.
NIGHT 1.1.45 MITTELLAND CANAL (GRAVENHORST). 4 of 467, 6 of 463, of 152 from 5-Group with 5 Mosquitos. No loss. During all this period, Waddington, and most of England, was deep in snow. Aircraft were buried in snow, and runways could not be kept open for them. Landing on icy runways was difficult. (On 1.1.45, Bomber Command flew 598 sorties day & night, and 5 planes crashed trying to land.)
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More about the DORTMUND-EMS on 1/1/45.
Many years after the war I got to know Sam Nelson, (also a golfer), who was the Bomb Aimer in Merv Bache’s crew. He told me that his navigator was in the process of writing a small book covering their ‘troubles’ that day. I mentioned that I still had my logs & charts, including for that day, so I posted them to him, with the result that parts of my log & chart were photocopied (reduced size) and included in his book … and I received a copy; later a few more pages were sent about what happened to their crew members thereafter. Several of their crew had a reunion in Canberra just at the time when they refurbished the Lancaster display in the War Museum. They told the staff of their “trouble” on 1/1/45, and were given the privilege of going inside the Lanc, even though it was not then open to the public.
I’ve made a “pocket” at the back of this folder for that book.
On pages 33/4 of that book is some details about a major German air attack on Allied aircraft & airfields on the same morning as our daylight raid on the Dortmund-Ems Canal. It may have been fortunate for us that most of their fighters were otherwise-occupied that morning.
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[circled 27] 4.1.45. ROYAN (S. France).
8 of 467, 16 of 463, of 344 Lancs & 7 Mosquitoes. F/O R. Eggins (467) had a mid-air collision with another Lanc., they baled out & were rescued.
Stubborn German garrison holding out at Royan prevented Allies from using Bordeaux as a port. (the Americans had kept a big force in that area, hoping to capture Bordeaux much earlier.) Bomber Command was ordered to bomb the town. It appears that the order was cancelled, but that order not received by the Squadrons concerned. But the French people there were told of the cancellation. As a result 700 French people were killed & soured relations with Britain.
We took off at [deleted] 0122 [/deleted] 0104, did the usual Radius of Action to be back at base at 0140 at 2000’. We flew southwards crossing the coast near Portsmouth. We had GEE all the way 7 so kept nicely on-track; the winds mainly from NNE varied between 35 & 60 mph.
When just short of the target we got a message at 0359 1/2 “do not bomb for 2 min.” We were due there in about 1 min. I wrote “Have to orbit I think.” Then at 0400 1/2 we were told “Come in & bomb”, which we did at 0401 without having to orbit, at 6250’.
We had an easy trip home, airborne for 6h. 30m. Our bomb load was 1 x 4000 (“Cookie”), & 16 x 500 lb HE.
On the back of my chart are several diagrams showing what the displays looked like on the GEE-BOX, and an indication of the curves on our GEE Charts.
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NIGHT. 5-1-45 HOUFFALIZE. 10 of 467, 8 of 463, of 131 from 5 Group, with 9 Mosquitos attacked supply bottleneck at Houffalize in the Ardennes. Target was hit with great accuracy. No loss. (Main force of 664 attacked Hannover, losing [underlined] 4.7%. [/underlined])
[circled 28] 7-1-45 MUNICH. 11 of 467, 16 of 463, of 645 Lancs. and 9 Mosquitos. This was the last major raid on Munich by Bomber Command; the industrial area was severely damaged. 467 lost F/O W. McNamee & crew (all KIA) … Severe icing caused high fuel consumption … they ran out of fuel and baled out over the sea 5 mi. from Eye, but were not found.
V 8h 45m. 1 x 4000 + 6 J clusters.
(The winds on this trip were forecast at about 80 mph from NW, so the route to the target was direct across Germany, then home south of Switzerland. (Usually, on Munich trips, we’d go out south of Switzerland, hiding from radar behind the mountains – maybe – then come home, faster across Germany.) The winds, in places, exceeded 100 mph. We were forced to ‘waste time’ on the way to the target (dangerous over Germany!). We took 3 hours to reach Munich loaded, then 6 hours to come home empty!)
[inserted] I haven’t got my log & chart for this trip – mislaid when I was teaching ATC cadets at Forest Hills [/inserted]
NIGHT 13-1-45 POLITZ. 17 of 467, 14 of 463, of 218 Lancs & 7 Mosquitos from 5-Group, attacked the oil plant near Stettin. Intended to be [inserted] a [/inserted] blind H2S attack, but the target was clear and the 5-Group low-level-marking was used in an accurate attack. Photo-reconnaissance stated that the oil plant was reduced to rubble. No loss from Waddington.
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NIGHT 14-1-45 MERSBERG-LEUNA. 14 of 467, 14 of 463 of 573 Lancs & 14 Mosquitos attacked the synthetic oil plant at Leuna. Albert Speer wrote … “this was the most damaging raid on the synthetic oil industry”. (The remainder of Bomber Command raided Grevenbroich & Dulmen … a total of 1214 sorties.)
[circled 29] 16-1-45 BRUX. 16 of 467, 12 of 463 of 231 Lancs & 6 Mosquitos of 5-Group, attacked the synthetic oil plant in western Czecho-slovakia [sic] (the plant had P.O.W. camps quite close by). The raid was a complete success. Speer also mentions this raid “as a particularly severe setback to oil production”. (Bomber Command attacked 4 other targets this night with a total of 1238 bombers. All were successful … the loss rate was 2.4% (about 30). No loss from Waddington.
D 10h. 0m. 1 x 4000 + 12 x 500 (Not dropped – bomb circuit U.S.) 14250’
(The bombing circuit was faulty – we made 3 orbits of the target, taking 20 mins, but could not remedy the trouble. We set out for home with bombs aboard and flew home at fairly low altitude – varying between 4500’ & 8500’, our airspeed 15 – 20 mph slower than the rest of the force. Then we had to make a diversion into the North Sea jettison area to manually release one bomb fitted with anti-handling fuse. The result was that we were last home, nearly an hour late. As this was our last trip we were ‘expected’ to come home faster than usual & be ‘first home’ … many thought we were unlucky enough to ‘get the chop’ on our last trip. The aircraft had severe problems (besides the bomb circuit and resulted in a tragic crash on 2.2.45, killing all but one of the crew … included were T. Paine & W. Robinson from Mudgee.)
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I met Chris Jarret at a University conference in the 60’s and heard from him what happened to them in ‘D’ on the night of 2-2-45.
He was lucky to survive, although it was easy for the Bomb-Aimer to be first out when told to “Bale-Out”. The next man out would have been Tom Paine, the Rear Gunner, & he told me that he was the only other one to get out & open his ‘chute in time to avoid death, but that Tom landed over the crest of a hill & was killed by the plane crashing & bombs exploding near him, while Chris had landed on the other side of the hill.
Tom Paine was in my classes at Mudgee High right from 1st year in 1936.
Bill Robinson must have started in 1935 as he was a year ahead of us; but I can remember him as the school was rather small (about 400) compared to the 1000+ when I taught there in the ‘60s.
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NIGHT 22-1-45. GELSENKIRCHEN. 0 from 467, 1 from 463. (photographic)
JANUARY SUMMARY. The month ended with heavy snow and bad visibility. 467 did 90 sorties losing 3 crews (7 KIA, 14 Ev.) 4 crews ‘tour-expired’.
NIGHT 1-2-45 SIEGEN (Railway Yards) 21 of 467, 19 of 463 of 271 from 5-Group. 467 lost one crew – the navigator was our A-flight commander, Des Sands DFM, an Australian in the RAF on his second tour … he survived, parachuted, captured.
NIGHT 2-2-45 KARLSRUHE. 19 of 467, 16 of 463, of 250 from 5-Group. 467 lost 2 crews (14 KIA (incl. a ‘second dickie’ pilot) 1 POW. ‘D’ was one of the two. F/O A. Robinson [inserted] (pilot) [/inserted] and Rear Gunner – Tom Paine – went to school with me at Mudgee High – Tom was in the same class. (See extract from ‘The Bulletin’ for story by Bomb-Aimer survivor, whom I met accindentally [sic] at an external studies school at UNE (Armidale) in the ‘60’s.)
NIGHT 7-2-45 DORTMUND-EMS CANAL (near LADBERGEN)
13 from 467. 467 lost c.o. W/C J. K. Douglas & crew (+ second dickie Bomb-aimer) … 3 KIA, 4 POW, 1 Ev.
NIGHT. 8-2-45 POLITZ. 15 of 467, 16 of 463 of 163 total (5-Group was 1st ‘Wave’, other groups followed and put this important oil plant out of action for the remainder of the war. 1020 bombers attacked other targets including Krefeld.
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13-2-45 DRESDEN. 17 of 467, 19 of 463 of 144 Lancs and 9 Mosquitos from 5-Group attacked Dresden as the 1st wave of a 2-part attack, dropping 800 tons. The second wave, 3 hours later, dropped 1800 tons, mostly incendiaries, causing a devastating fire-storm. German report says that more than 50000 people died.
14-2-45 ROSITZ. 16 of 467, 16 of 463 of 224 Lancs + 8 Mosquitos from 5-Group, attacked the oil refinery near Leipzig. The rest of Bomber Command attacked 4 other targets – a total of 1316 ‘heavies’, loss rate 1.7%.
19-2-45 BOHLEN. 19 of 467, 16 of 463 of 254 Lancs and 6 Mosquitos from 5-Group. Raid was unsuccessful. The Master Bomber, W/C E.A. Benjamin DFF + Bar, was shot down by flak & killed. Only superficial damage was caused.
20-2-45 MITTLELAND CANAL near GRAVENHORST. 10 of 467, 10 of 463, of 154 Lancs & 11 Mosquitos of 5-Group … raids on the canal by now were called “the milk run”. A comment (in the Waddington report) … “5-Group had bombed the canal so often that the Germans could leave their guns aimed ready for the next raid”. The Master Bomber abandoned this raid when it could not be marked properly due to heavy low cloud. (The Main Force – of B.C. – did 4 raids using H2S. Total of 1283 sorties, loss rate 1.7%)
21-2-45 MITTLELAND CANAL (again). 10 of 467, 10 of 463 of 165 Lancs & 12 Mosquitos from 5-Group. Weather was clear, and the canal was breached.
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The Main Force raided 4 other targets, 1110 sorties; losses 3.1%. 463 Sq. lost their C.O. W/C Forbes on his last trip of 2nd Tour … shot down by German nightfighter ace, Major H.W. Schnaufer.
NIGHT 23-2-45. PFORZHEIM. 1 of 463 (Photo) 367 Lancs of 1, 6 & 8 groups. 1825 tons of bombs dropped … “The 3rd most effective raid of the war … killed 17000, and 83% of the town destroyed by a fire-storm.
DAY 24-2-45 DORTMUND-EMS CANAL. 18 of 467, 11 of 463, of 166 Lancs & 4 Mosquitos from 5-Group … The target was obscured by cloud and the raid abandoned. No Loss.
FEBRUARY SUMMARY. The weather was often bad. 467 did 158 sorties, lost 5 crews + 3 who baled out + 3 “2nd dickies”. (25 KIA, 15 POW, 1 Ev.) 3 tours expired. 1 Crew crashed in training.
NIGHT 3-3-45. DORTMUND-EMS CANAL. 15 of 467, 15 of 463, of 212 Lancs + 10 Mosquitos of 5-Group breached the aqueduct near Ladbergen in 2 places, putting it out of action until after the war’s end. 467 lost F/O R.T. Ward and crew (7 KIA); F/O R.B. Eggins & crew (6 KIA, 1 POW), and the C.O. W/C E. Langlois & crew (5 KIA, 2 POW) … he had only become C.O. on 9th Feb. 8 Lancs lost over Ger. 20 over U.K.[inserted] loss [/inserted] 3.6%
(This night the Luftwaffe mounted “Operation Gisela” sending 200 night fighters to follow various bomber forces into England (& so not being detected). They took the British defences by surprise and they shot down 20 bombers over England (some were Lancaster training planes … a couple at Wigsley, where I was Duty Navigator in the control tower!) The bomb dump at Waddington was attacked but wasn’t blown up. 3 German fighters crashed flying too low.
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NIGHT 5-3-45 BOHLEN 15 of 467, 15 of 463 of 248 from 5-Group, attacked synthetic oil refinery. Target was cloudy but some damage. Bomber Command made 1223 sorties for 31 lost over Germany and 10 crashed in England … “visibility had detiorated [sic] for returning aircraft”. (Percy Jobson, of Wagga Wagga, a friend of hockey years, was shot down, parachuted, on this trip … a big write up given.)
NIGHT 6-3-45. SASSNITZ - - a port on the Baltic Sea.
NIGHT 7-3-45 HARBURG. oil refinery (5-Group). Bomber Command total (on various targets): 1276, loss 41 (3.2%)
DAY 11-3-45 ESSEN by 1079 bombers … the largest day raid by B.C. … “paralysed Essen until the Americans entered. 467 lost 1 crew (all KIA) on collision with a Hurricane near base in F.A. training.
DAY 12-3-45 Dortmund. 1108 planes, record tonnage 4851 tons … with fighter escorts, over 2000 planes … “put the city out of the war”.
NIGHT 14-3-45 LUTZKENDORF. 5-Group attack on oil refinery, losing 18 (7.4%). Main Force of 568 attacked Zweibrucken & Homburg & other minor targets … 2.8% loss
NIGHT 16-3-45 WURZBURG. 5-Group, 225 Lancs & 11 Mosquitos, dropped 1207 tons with great accuracy in 17 minutes … 89% of industrial part of city destroyed. 467 lost F/O Thomas & crew (6 KIA, 1 POW). Main force attacked NUREMBERG with 480 planes, losing 28 (4.2%), due to night-fighters joining the bomber stream before the target
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DAY 19-3-45 ARNSBERG RAILWAY VIADUCT. 37 Lancs of 617 and 9 Sqdns (and 1 photo Lanc. from 463) dropped 6 ‘Grand Slam’ 10-ton bombs … the ‘earthquake-effect’ collapsed the viaduct … the film was spectacular.
NIGHT. 20-3-45 BOHLEN. 5-Group. The main force was on Hemingstedt with 675 planes, loss rate 1.9%.
DAY 22-3-45 BREMEN. 5-Group. Rail bridge.
NIGHT. 23-3-45 WESEL. 5-Group. 1000 tons in 9 minutes from 9000’ … as close army support … “British Army crossed the river before the bombers had left the area”, and Wesel was in British hands before midnight (the bombing ended at 2239). Wesel claims it was the most heavily bombed town in Germany … 97% of buildings destroyed in main town area; population reduced from 250000 at outbreak of war, to 1900 in May ’45.
DAY 27-3-45 FARGE Oil Storage, 5-Group plus 2 of 617 attacking U-Boat shelters with 23’-thick concrete roof. 2 of the Grand-Slam bombs penetrated the roof and brought down thousands of tons of concrete and rubble, rendering the shelter ineffective.
MARCH SUMMARY 467 flew 185 sorties, lost 4 crews (24 KIA, 4 POW), 4 crews completed tours.
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DAY 4-4-45 NORDHAUSEN. 5-Group … Military barracks Many ‘forced labourers killed’.
DAY 6-4-45 IJMUIDEN … on ships … raid abandoned due to bad weather.
NIGHT 7-4-45 MOLBIS. Benzol plant … “all production ceased”.
NIGHT 8-4-45 LUTZKENDORF. 5-Group. Oil refinery. ‘Put out of action until end of war’. Main force was on Hamburg 440 planes, & other targets, total of 918 planes … 1.3% loss.
DAY 9-4-45 HAMBURG .. oil storage (5-Group) and 617 Sq attacked U-Boat shelters with Grand Slam bombs, and Tallboy bombs. Both raids successful. On this raid German ME 152 & 153 jet fighters attacked the Lancs for the first time.
NIGHT 16-4-45 PILSEN 5-Group. Rail Yards.
NIGHT 18-4-45 KOMOTAU 5-Group.
DAY 23-4-45 FLENSBURG Railway yards. (Abandoned – cloud)
NIGHT 25-4-45 TONSBERG Oil Refinery & U Boat pens (Norway)
463 Sq. lost the last Lancaster of the war (crew survived)
3300 Lancasters lost in the whole war.
467 Sq from Nov ’42 to 26 Apr ’45 – flew 4188 sorties, used 214 Lancs. lost 110 by enemy action, 4 damaged – crashlandings but recovered. 590 KIA. 117 POW. 8E Ev. 5 DSO, 146 DFC. 2 CGM. 36 DFM
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[underlined] 467 SQUADRON – R.A.A.F. [/underlined]
467 Squadron was formed at SCAMPTON, LINCOLNSHIRE 7-11-42.
Moved to BOTTESFORD by 30-11-1942. Moved to WADDINGTON 11-11-1943.
Bottesford Station Commanding Officers: G/C. SWAIN, F.R.O: OBE: DFC.
From 3.3.43. – G/C. McKECKNIE, W.N: DFC.
[underlined] 467 SQAUDRON moved to WADDINGTON 12.11.43 [/underlined]
Waddington Station Commanding Officers:
16.4.43. G/C. S.C. ELWORTHY, CCB, CBE, DSO, MVO, DFC, AFC, MA.
31.3.44. G/C. D.W. BONHAM-CARTER, CB, DFC.
14.4.45. G/C. E.D. McK. NELSON, CB.
1.8.45 G/C. D.D. CHRISTIE, AFC.
24.8.45. G/C. A.E. TAYLOR.
467 SQUADRON COMMANDERS:
7.11.42. W/C. C.L. COMM, DSO, DFC. _ _ _ KIA 16.8.43.
19.8.43. W/C. J.R. BALMER, DFC, OBE. _ _ _ KIA 11.5.44.
12.5.44. W/C. W.L. BRILL, DSO, DFC & Bar _ _ _ Died 1964.
12.10.44. W/C. J.K. DOUGLAS, DFC, AFC. _ _ KIA 8.2.45.
9.2.45. W/C. E. le P. LANGLOIS _ _ KIA 3.4.45.
4.3.45. W/C. I.H. HAY, DFC. _ _ To disbandment.
467 STATION ADJUTANTS: F/L. BURFIELD_CARPENTER.
F/L. A.D. McDONALD (A18121): F/L. J.M.W. LOVE.
467 SQUADRON moved to RAF METHERINGHAM 16.6.45 and were disbanded there October, 1945.
[underlined] 467 STATISTICS COMPILED FROM OPERATIONAL RECORD BOOKS [/underlined].
First Operational Sortie – 2/3.1.1943 – To FURZE _ Minelaying.
Last Operational Sortie – 26/26.4.45 – to TONSBURG.
[underlined] OPERATIONAL SORTIES ATTEMPTED [/underlined]:
No. of a/c actually took off on operations: 3977
No. of Operational sorties completed: 3795
No. of Operational sorties failed: 182
[underlined] REASON FOR FAILURE OF SORTIE [/underlined]:
a/c failed to return – listed missing 105
a/c early return due to Engine Failure: 28
a/c early return due to Electrical Failure: 10
a/c “ “ “ to Armament Failure: 9
a/c “ “ “ to Oxygen Failure: 9
a/c “ “ “ to Instruments, radio, intercom failure: 12
a/c “ “ “ to Ice in flight & ice damage: 6
a/c “ “ “ to Navigational Error: [underlined] 3 [/underlined]
[underlined] 182 [/underlined]
No. of Sorties completed in a/c damaged by Enemy Action: 230
No. of Aircrew listed in Operational Record Books as flown on ops from 467 Sqdn, RAAF: (inc. RAF, RNZAF, RCAF): 1814
No. of Aircrew listed in ORB’s as War Casualty from 467 Sq: (includes) RAAF, RAF, RNZAF, RCAF): 760
No. of whole crews posted to 467 Sq. for Ops: 258
No. of whole crews finished tour of ops – 30 or more: 74
No. of whole crews lost on Ops: 115
No. of whole crews still operating when hostilities ceased 8.5.45. and not tour expired: 31
No. of whole crews posted to other Squadrons during tour: 34
No. of whole crews with no Ops. before hostilities ceased: 4
No. of crews from 53 Base who flew on ops from 467 Sqdn and not listed as posted to 467 Sqdn. 6
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[inserted] Extract of “WAR” List for an Operation … late 1944. [/inserted]
F/S J.W. Singer (Can) – Sgt A. Carson – [missing name]
PB. 193 ‘W’ – F/O R.J. Harris – P/O J.T. Adair – Sgt T. Andrews – Sgt R. Walker
P/O H.F.C. Parsons – F/L R.W. Cook – Sgt S. Saunders
EE.136 – F/O A.L. Keely – F/S W. Chorny (Can) – Sgt A.E. Wotherspoon – Sgt C.H. Connwell
F/S L.W. Tanner – Sgt S.D. Chambers – Sgt J.E. Johnson
LM.713 – F/O C. Newton (Can) – Sgt P. Grant – Sgt W. Gregory – Sgt E.H. Cooper (Can)
Sgt R. Flynn (Can) – Sgt L.G. Kelly – Sgt R.S. Stevens (Can)
LM.715 ‘O’ – F/O R.W. Ayrton (Aus) – Sgt M.J. Herkes – Sgt H.K. Huddlestone – Sgt D.K. Chalcraft
F/S N. Bardsley – Sgt W. Scott – Sgt J.A.W. Davies
ME.809 – F/O R.C. Lake – P.O J.A. Peterson (Can) – Sgt R.W. Baird – Sgt R.A. Morton
W/O G.B. Watts (Can) – F/S G.E. Parkinson – P/O R.D. Kerr (Can)
No. 467 Squadron, Second Wave
NF.908 ‘C’ – F/L J.K. Livingstone – F/L D.O. Sands – F/O E.G. Parsons – F/O R.N. Browne
P/O W.D. McMahon (Aus) – F/O J. Pendergast – F/O T.C. Taylor
PB306 – F/O R.J. Mayes (Aus) – F/O L.J. Hart (Aus) – Sgt D.H. Hamilton – F/S J. Manning
F/S A.R. Edgar (Aus) – F/S J.G. Muir (Aus) – F/S K.W. Cary (Aus)
LM.100 ‘D’ – F/O P.R. Gray-Buchanan (Aus) – F.S. H.G. Adams (Aus) – Sgt D.M. Coutts – F/S J.R. Giles (Aus)
F/S B.J. Payne (Aus) – F/S E.J. Taylor (Aus) – F/S K. Nichols (Aus)
PD.215 ‘F’ – F/O L. Landridge (Aus) – F/S D.G. Beverley (Aus) – Sgt J. Halstead – Sgt D.J. Allen
F/S K.C. Woollam (Aus) – F/S W.C. Denny (Aus) – Sgt B.A. Davies
LM.542 ‘K’ – F/O T.A. Gummersall (Aus) – F/S L.C.C. Chalcraft (Aus) – Sgt J. Clemons – F/S E.R. Baldwin (Aus)
F/O F.A. York (Aus) – F/S S.J. Anders (Aus) – F/S W.H. Bradbury (Aus)
LM.233 ‘M’ – F/O J.J. Sheridan (Aus) – F.S G.W. Gould (Aus) – Sgt B.J. Ambrose – Sgt J. Hodgson
F/S A. Raymond (Aus) – F/S W. Branagh (Aus) – Sgt R. Ward
LM.677 – F/O J.J.J. Cross (Aus) – F/S D.F. Edwards (Aus) – Sgt K.M. Pope – F.S W.K. Perry (Aus)
F/O V.L. Drouyn (Aus) – F/S W.V. Maurer (Aus) – F/S M.D. Wilkie (Aus)
NF.910 – F/O G.H. Stewart (Aus) – F/O R. Faulks (Aus) – Sgt G. Hopwood – F/S D.J. Morland (Aus)
F/S R. Galov (Aus) – F/S M.J.H. West (Aus) – F/S F.H. Skuthorpe (Aus)
NF.917 ‘Q’ – F/O R.S. Forge (Aus) – F/O H.M. Bissell (Aus) – Sgt W.C. Bradley – Sgt H. R. Harvey
F/O R.H. Darwin (Aus) – F/S E.J. O’Kearney (Aus) – Sgt R. Haire
ND.473 – F/O R.H. Mellville (Aus) – F/S J.L. Klye (Aus) – Sgt R.J. Brady – F/S D.D. Suter (Aus)
F/S J.F. Tongue (Aus) – F/S B.T. Hoskin (Aus) – F/S R.C.M. Newling (Aus)
NF.908 – F/O L.R. Pedersen (Aus) – F/S J.S. Hodgson (Aus) – Sgt D.R. Ba.dry [sic] – Sgt E.W. Durrant
F/S P.K. Garvey (AUS) – F/S V.J.M. McCarthy (AUS) – Sgt A.E. Dearns
NN.714 – F/O E.B. Rowell (Aus – F/S R.L. Morris (Aus) – Sgt A.J. Halls – Sgt. A Thomson
F/S D.J. Taylor (Aus) – F/S A.S. Smith (Aus) – Sgt A. Thomson
F/S D.J. Taylor (Aus) – F/S A.S. Smith (Aus) – Sgt J. Hodge
No. 463 Squadron, Third Wave
ND.133 ‘X’ – W/C W.A. Forbes (Aus) – F/O J.A. Costello – P/O W.A. Martin – F/S A.J. Norman
F/O W.J. Grime – P/O W. McLeod – P/O K.L. Worden
PD.311 ‘O’ – F/O P.J. Bowell (Aus) – F/S E.A. Petersen (Aus) – Sgt W. Forster – F/S W.H.J. Butcher (Aus)
F/S W. Plumb (Aus) – W/O J.R. Williams (Aus) – F/S I.D. Dutfiield [sic] (Aus)
LM.130 ‘N’ – F/O A.G. Stutter (Aus) – F/S P.L. Wilkinson (Aus) – Sgt H. Walsh – F/S M.F. Woodgate (Aus)
F/S P. O’Loughlin (Aus) – F/S D.J. Browning (Aus) – F/S H.R. Holmes (Aus)
PD.337 ‘L’ – F/O F.H. Smith (Aus) – Sgt E. Moss – ?
F/S B.A. Donaghue (Aus) – F/S R.T. Simonson (Aus) – F/S E.R. Cameron (Aus)
ND.977 – F/O G.T. White (Aus) – F/S G.D. Smith (Aus) – Sgt C. Jackson – Sgt V.G. Dunn
F/S H. Robinson (Aus) – F/S J.J.B. Middleton (Aus) – Sgt W. S. Bayne
PD.330 ‘F’ – F/O K.P. Brady (Aus) – F/S E.D. Rees – Sgt C.R. Levy – F/S G. Berglund (Aus)
F/S G.W. Boyes – F/S J.D. Stevens (Aus) – F/S J.E. Cox (Aus)
MD.332 – F/O B. Ward-Smith (Aus) – F/O R.W. Markham (Aus) – Sgt E. Taylor – F/S A.J. Tyson (Aus)
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[underlined] 5 Group, [/underlined] the biggest of 6 in Bomber Command.
Our 467 squadron was one of 18 Lancaster squadrons the Group. They were:-
9 at Bardney
227 at Balderton
[missing number] 4 (Rhod.) “ Spilsby
[underlined] 463 & 467 “ Waddington [/underlined]
49 “ Fulbeck
619 at Strubby
50 & 61 “ Skellingthorpe
630 “ East Kirkby
57 “ East Kirkby
617, 627 “ Woodhall Spa [symbol] Mosquitos
83 & 97 (Pathfinders) Coningsby
106 Metheringham
189 Fulbeck
207 Spilsby
[underlined] Some notable raids [/underlined]:
1944 Sept. 12/13. First operational use of [underlined] Loran [/underlined].
“ 23/4. Dortmund-Ems canal breached by [underlined] Tallboy [/underlined] (12000 lb bomb, designed by Barnes Wallis).
Oct. 3 Sea wall at Westkapelle (Walcheren Is) breached.
“ 14/5 Biggest night ops by Bomber Command of the war.
“ 23/4. Part of 1055 plane raid on Essen.
“ 25 “ “ 771 “ “ “ “, finishes it.
Nov. 2/3 “ “ 992 “ “ “ Dusseldorf.
“ 4/5. 174 Lancs breach Dortmund-Ems canal again.
“ 12 Tirpitz sank at Tromso by 9 & 617 Sqdns.
1945 Jan 1/2. 157 Lancs breach Mittleand canal.
“ 4/5. raid on Royan kills many French civilians.
“ 7/8. Part of 654 a/c; last raid on Munich.
Mar 14. Bielefeld aquaduct [sic] broken using Barnes Wallis’s new 22000 lb Grand Slam bomb. by 617 Sqdn.
“ 27. U-boat shelter at Farge blown up using the Grand Slam bomb, by 617 Sqdn.
Feb. 20/21 First of 36 consecutive night raids on Berlin by Mosquitos of 627 Sqdn.
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[circled 8]
[underlined] 5 Group [/underlined] Sqdns. As at 22.3.45.
Lanc I, III
9 Bardney
44 (Rhod.) Spilsby
49 Fulbeck.
50 Skellingthorpe
57 East Kirkby
61 Skellingthorpe
106 Metheringham
189 Fulbeck.
207 Spilsby
227 Balderton
463 [brackets] RAAF Waddington
407 RAAF Waddington [/brackets]
619 Strubby
630 East Kirkby
[symbol] 617 Woodhall Spa.
[brackets] 83 PFF Coningsby
97 PFF Coningsby [/brackets]
627 Woodhall Spa. Mosquito IV, XX, 25.
(83, 97 & 627 on loan from 8 Group.)
[inserted] [underlined] 1944. [/underlined] [/inserted]
Sept 12/13 First operational use of LORAN.
“ 23/4. Dortmund Ems canal breached by Tallboy (12000 lb).
Oct 3. Sea wall at Westkapelle (Walcheren Is) breached.
14/15 BC. biggest night ops of war.
23/24. 1055 raid on Essen. 25th 771 on Essen finishes it.
Nov 2/3. 992 on Dusseldorf.
4/5. 174 breach Dortmund Ems canal again.
12. Tirpitz sank at Tromas by 9 & 617 Sq.
Jan 1/2. 157 breach Mittleand Canal.
[inserted] 1945
Jan 4/5 Royan – many French casualties.
7/8 Last raid on Munich 654 a/c
Mar 14. Bielefeld aqueduct broken … Grand Slam 22000 lb.
27 U boat shelter at Farge successful using “ “ “
Feb. 20/21 first of 36 consecutive night raids on Berlin by mosquitos. [/inserted]
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Extracts from “The Hardest Victory – RAF Bomber Command in WW II by Dennis Richards. (Hodder & Stoughton, 1944.)
1944. March to June. The Transportation Plan, preparatory to OVERLORD … the invasion in Normandy. As part of the plan to convince the Germans that the landing would be in the Pas de Calais, far more bridges and railway workshops and marshalling yards were attacked North of the Seine than South of it. In this phase Bomber Command dealt with 37 of the railway centres, 8th American Air Force heavies 26, & AEAF (fighters, fighter-bombers, light & medium bombers, & recon. aircraft, a mixture of RAF & USAAF squadrons) 20. Bomber command dropped nearly 45000 tons on these centres, twice the tonnage of the other 2 put together. Harris in “Bomber Command” wrote:- “Bomber Command’s night bombing proved to be rather more accurate, much heavier in weight & more concentrated than the American daylight attacks, a fact which was afterwards clearly recognised by SHAEF when the time came (later) for the bombing of German troop concentrations within a mile or so of our own troops.”
In this phase, Bomber Command made 69 attacks, 9000 sorties & lost 198 planes (1.8%). They did enormous damage. In the end about 2/3 of the 37 centres were classed as completely out of action for a month or more, and the remainder as needing only some further “attention” from fighter-bombers.
Unhappily, the toll of friendly civilian lives was sometimes more than the “prescribed” limit of 100 – 150 per raid … (Coutrai 252, Lille 456, Ghent 482), but overall the total was much less than the 10000 “limit”.
The attacks on rail centres by all 3 air forces proved catastrophic for the Germans. Only about 12% of rolling stock was fit for use. A division from Poland took 3 days to get to West Germany, then 4 weeks to the Normandy battlefront!
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A particularly important raid, both in technique & results, was that on 5/6 Apr. (’43) on the Gnome et Rhône aero-works at Toulouse. 144 Lancs from 5 Group, with Leonard Cheshire of 617 SQN doing the initial marking at low level from a Mosquito. 2 Lancs of 617 reinforced the marking with great accuracy & this led to a raid which completely destroyed the factory. Thenceforth, Harris normally entrusted 5 Group (the largest in the Command) with its own marking, independent of the Pathfinder Force.
Bomber Command’s biggest task just before the invasion was to help silence the enemy’s coastal batteries … most nights since 24/25 May, & for deception purposes many of them outside the intended invasion area. But as D-Day neared, so the assault stepped up. On 2/3 June, 271 bombers attacked 4 batteries in the Pas de Calais (where the Germans most expected the invasion). On 3/4 June, 135 bombers attacked batteries at Calais & Winereux. On 4/5 June, 257 a/c attacked … this time in the invasion area. On 5/6 June (when invasion fleet was under way) Bomber Command put on max. effort … 1136 a/c (1047 attacked) [inserted] 5000 + tons of bombs. [/inserted] against [deleted] the [/deleted] 10 of the main batteries on the invasion coast. Other air formations & naval bombardment also attacked there & between them 9 of the 10 batteries were made incapable of sustained fire against the invasion forces.
In the week after D-Day, B.C. flew 3500 sorties to prevent reinforcements getting to the front. In the most skilful attack, 8/9 June. Lancs of 83 Sqn lit up railway tunnel at Saumur, then marked by Mosquitos, then 25 Lancs of 617 Sqn. dropped new 12000 lb “Tallboys” [inserted] [symbol] designed by Barnes Wallis. [/inserted] blocked the tunnel & delayed the Panzers.
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[circled 3]
During the struggle in Normandy, B.C. operated in strength close to battlefield. 14/15 Jun, 337 vs troops & vehicles at Aunay & Evrecy (near Caen). 30 Jun first B.C. daylight there … 266 Lancs & Halis & a few Mosquitos & Spitfire escort bombed a road junction at Villers-Bocage from 4000’ & frustrated a panzer attack. Of B.C.’s 5 other attacks in close support the biggest was 18 Jul .. GOODWOOD (max effort) … 1056 from B.C., 863 of AEAF & 8th A.F. to help the push SE of Caen towards Falaise …. but had bad weather & unsubdued anti-tank guns stopped the offensive (only 6 miles max.). But it impressed the Germans … Von Kluge who’d just replaced Rommel, wrote to Hitler on 21 Jul:- “There is no way by which, in the face of the enemy air forces’ complete command of the air, we can discover a form of strategy which will counterbalance the annihilating effects [underlined] unless we withdraw [/underlined] from the battlefield. Whole armoured formations allotted to counter-attack were caught beneath bomb carpets of the greatest intensity so that they could be got out of the torn-up ground only by prolonged effort … The psychological effect of such a mass of bombs coming down with all the power of elemental nature on the fighting forces, especially the infantry, is a factor which has to be taken into very serious consideration. It is immaterial whether such a carpet catches good troops or bad. They are more or less annihilated, and above all their equipment is shattered ...”
(He suicided a month later when Hitler wouldn’t allow a withdrawal)
On 7/8 Aug. 1019 a/c of B.C. raided 5 points in advance of Allied troops … helping Canadian 1st Army to open the way to Falaise.
Allies had 14000 a/c against German 1000 in those weeks.
25 Aug. Paris was free. 3 Sept. Brit 2nd Army in Brussels.
Resumption of oil targets delayed by V-1 threat.
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[circled 4] Jan (1944)
Hitler had hoped to begin V-1s vs London as ‘New Year present’ but damage to ‘ski” sites, & Fiesler works at Kassel & their own trouble with getting the bomb to operate reasonably – caused set-backs. Allied bombing of railways held up delivery of launchers & bomb components.
12/13 Jun first V-1 attacks. 7 of 55 sites managed to fire total of 10 … of which 3 reached England. But they improved. Bet. 15/16 & 16/17 Jun. 144 crossed Kentish coast & 73 reached London.
Operation CROSSBOW … B.C. + AEAF + 8th A.F. attacked V-1 sites from mid June to mid-August … using 40% of B.C. strength Targets were the modified launch sites, supply depots, & ‘large sites’ (V-2 rockets [deleted] maybe [indecipherable word] [/deleted]. B.C. attacked these day & night. B.C. flew 16000 sorties, 59000 tons vs the V-1 targets only losing 131 a/c ([symbol] 1%).
By mid-Aug, less need [symbol] defences (AA & fighters redeployed & more effect … + proximity fuses [symbol] [symbol] 20% reaching target; + balloons + finally our armies overrunning the launching sites.
Every day but one from 5 to 11 Sept Harris sent out 300 or more a/c to bomb [deleted] h [/deleted] [underlined] Le Havre [/underlined] area. (We did our [underlined] first trip [/underlined] on 10 [deleted] 8 [/deleted] Sept. 11 x 1000 + 4 x 500 lb.) that day 992 sorties. Total for the week 2500 sorties, 9750 tons … the ground attack after the last air raid on 11 Sept. succeeded & only c. 50 fatalaties [sic]. [inserted] (our 3rd) [/inserted] [underlined] Boulogne [/underlined] [inserted] we dropped 11 x 1000 + 4 x 500 lb. [/inserted] had become the next objective. We were in big raid on 17 Sept. by 762 a/c, opening the way for attack by Canadian army, … garrison gave in on 22 Sept, in diary of captured German officer: “Sometimes one could despair of everything if one is at the mery [sic] of the RAF without any protection. It seems as if all fighting is useless & all sacrifices in vain.”
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[circled 5]
Germans still held Dunkirk & Ostend … it became clear that key to faster supply to our armies was Antwerp, 40 miles up R. Scheldt. Allies captured Antwerp on 4 Sept. but Germans still held river banks, South Beveland & [underlined] Walcheren Is. [/underlined] dominating its approach from the sea. Allies tried, MARKET GARDEN, airborne troops to capture bridges over Maas, Wasl & lower Rhine … a disaster, losing 1st Airborne Div’n. [symbol] Try to open the Sheldt Estuary. B.C. began attacks on Walcheren Is. in 3rd week of Sept. Hitting batteries proved difficult. Canadian army told to capture Is. … their C.O. suggested bombing might breach its sea-walls & flood some low-lying batteries. Oct 2nd .. leaflets & broadcast to locals. Oct 3. .. Pathfinder Mosquitos in waves of 30 created a big gap in wall 60’ thick at top & 204’ at base. (617 Sqn with Tallboys not needed … took ‘em home!)
Many parts of Is. now flooded, but no surrender. Further attacks on walls on Oct 7, 11 & 17. We did our [underlined] 11th op [/underlined] [inserted] on 7 OCT. [/inserted] on [underlined] Flushing dyke [/underlined] walls, 2 sticks of 7 x 1000 lb, 2 runs at fairly low alt. & achieved a good breach.
We also bombed gun batteries on [underlined] Walcheren [/underlined] Is again on Oct. 23 (14 x 1000 lb) and Oct 30 (14 x 1000 lb) … [underlined] our 13th op [/underlined].
The plan was to take Wal. Is by amphibious assault & to ‘soften it up’, B.C. raided c 277 on Oct 28; then on Oct 29 with 358 a/c, then on [underlined] Oct 30 with 110 a/c [/underlined]. [inserted] [underlined] our 15th [/underlined] [/inserted] (us). On 1 Nov. Canadian & Scottish troops began a week of hard fighting … Royal marines sailed landing craft through the gaps in the sea-walls. B.C. flew 2000+ sorties in 14 raids there, 9000 tons of bombs … only lost 11 a/c ([symbol] 0.4%).
Antwerp not used for another 19 days … time taken to clear the estuary of mines.
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[circled 6]
B.C. continued to attack towns in Germany & coastal targets in the autumn & winter of 1944.
On [inserted] 12th [/inserted] Sept. we did our [underlined] 2nd trip [/underlined] on [underlined] Stuttgart [/underlined] (1 x 4000 lb + 13 J clusters). (Our skipper had been [deleted] there [/deleted] [inserted] to [underlined] Danstadt [/underlined] [/inserted] the previous night as “2nd-dickie”). Then our [underlined] 4th [/underlined] on Bremerhaven on 18 Sept. (18 cans). & 5th on Munchen-Gladbach the next night 19 Sept (1 x 2000 lb + 12 J clusters) on which Guy Gibson as master bomber went missing (KIA). Our [underlined] 6th on [/underlined] 23 Sept. was our first of 4 raids on [underlined] Dortmund [/underlined] Ems canal “the vital link between the Ruhr & North Sea”. (14 x 1000 lb). B.C. did about 10 raids on the canal, “each time draining the canal for several miles & leaving scores of barges stranded. And this was not simply a one-off piece of temporary damage. As soon as, by the effort of 4000 (Todt) labourers, the canal was once more fully working, B.C. breached it again - & went on doing so as required until the end of the war.” (It was a fairly “dicey” target – they [underlined] knew [/underlined] we’d be coming & [underlined] where [/underlined] (where the aqueduct was above ground level.)
Sept 26. Op [symbol] 7 on Karlsruhe (18 cans)
“ 27 [symbol] 8 “ Kauserlauten (18 cans).
Oct 6 [symbol] 10. Bremen (18 cans)
Oct 5. Daylight formation (!) on Wilhelmshaven (18 cans). - - cloud obscured target & we (& others) bombed by H2S … the only time we used it on ops … mostly we were denied its use because they reckoned German fighter &/or flak could pick us up from its transmission.
Oct. 19. Op [symbol] 12. Nuremburg (1 x 2000 lb + 12 J clusters).
Oct 28 op 14 Bergen (Norway) U-boat pens … but brought bombs back due to smokescreen over target. Had to descend to near mountain tops to clear cloud – did so safely using GEE.
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[circled 7]
“In the last quarter of 1944, nearly half the tonnage dropped by B.C. was aimed at Urban areas in general rather than on more specific targets. … eg. Stuttgart, Nuremburg; [underlined] Dusseldorf (our 16th [/underlined] on Nov 2nd, 11 x 1000 + 4 x 500) Munich our [underlined] 23rd [/underlined] on Dec. 17 (1 x 4000 + 9 cans + 1 monroe). & [underlined] Munich [/underlined] again our 28th on Jan 7th (1 x 4000 + 6 J clusters).
Our [underlined] 18th [/underlined] on 11 Nov. on Harburg oil refinery (near Hamburg) caused huge fire visible 100 miles on way home (1 x 4000+ 6 x 1000 + 6 x 500 lb).
16 Nov, Our 19th a daylight on [underlined] Duren [/underlined], part of a huge effort to react to battle of bulge destroyed the town to rubble. (12 x 1000 lb).
Our 24th Gdynic .. Dec 18, on Pocket Battleship ‘Lutzow’ (also there the P.B. Admiral Von Sheer) … may have caused enough damage to have Latzow towed (?) to Swinemunde where 617 Sqn finished it off on 16/17 April ’45 (10 x 1000 SA.P.).
5 Group. HQ Grantham, then Moreton Hall, near Swinderby.
[underlined] AOC’s [/underlined] Harris 11.9.39. Bottomley 22.11.40.
Slessor 12-5-41. Coryton 25.5.42. Cochrane 28.2.43
Constantine 16.1.45.
A/C. Hampdens, Manchesters, Lancasters, Mosquitos.
[underlined] B.C. casualties, Aircrew [/underlined] Operational K. 47120
Died as POW 138
Missing now safe. 2868
POW “ “ 9784
Wounded. 4200
[underlined] Non-operational [/underlined]
K. 8090
Wounded 4200
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A brief summary of the Bache crew’s experiences after the Operation to the Dortmund-Ems Canal on 1st January 1945.
A number of entries in the 160 pages that I wrote during 1945 in the second of my three war diaries refer to events connected with, or as a result of, the Bache crew’s experiences on 1st January of that year. (The three diaries contain a total of some 420 pages which cover only some sections of my overseas service in the RAAF, mainly while travelling to and while in Canada doing my navigator training, the Operation on 1st January 1945, that period which is summarised below and my trip back home from England. Unfortunately they do not cover any of the crew’s other Operational Sorties in detail but an amount of information on these is available from other sources in my possession)
The following very short summary makes use of extracts from some of the entries in my second diary, (other than from the 17 pages which contributed to my chronicle of events directly associated with our 16th Operation on 1st January 1945). It then goes on to refer to information that I have received since from various members of our crew covering their individual moves after the crew broke up in May 1945, plus each one’s post war status.
However, for the sake of brevity, this summary does not include any detailed references to those of our Operational Sorties which we flew between 19th February and 18th April 1945 – and some other of the events in which the crew were involved between January and May of that year – but which were not as a direct consequence of the Operation on 1-1-45 These matters may (possibly?) be covered at some future date.
So, picking up this account from a point part way through January 1945 –
My additional navigational duties during 1945.
During the period early in 1945 when our crew was non-operational, while we waited for Ernie and Cec to recover from their injuries received on 1st January, I was employed in the squadron’s navigation section in various ways. Some of these duties continued after we returned to Ops – particularly on the occasions where our crew was not flying on that Op.
Amongst other things, I had been requested by the squadron navigation leader to assist him by looking after the navigation Order Book, which covered matters such as changes in navigational procedures as these came through from No 5 Group Headquarters, as well as setting up an improved system for bringing this information to the notice of the navigators on the squadron. I was also asked to devise ways of drawing attention to cases or areas in which we should take steps to improve navigational performance.
I “dreamed up” a cartoon type character of a navigator who I named “Ayling-Rouse” (who was something like a mixture of the infamous idiotic pilot character, P/O Prune and the well known ancient Chinese philosopher, Confucius) to assist with this and it seemed to be quite successful in getting the guys’ attention! – the style being recommended for use elsewhere in the Group.
I was also shown by the section’s navigation assessment officer how to assess the squadron navigator’s Operational flying log sheets and plotting charts – and learned how to get the navigators away on “cross-country” training flights etc.
I was then introduced by the squadron navigation leader to Operational navigation briefing procedures and other of his duties – and taken to some of the pre-Operation navigational planning conferences, which were held via a Group telephone hook up between
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the various squadrons just prior to our squadron Navigators Briefing for the Op. concerned.
As an upshot of all this, I was made deputy navigation leader and eventually stood in for the squadron navigation leader on occasions – including the conducting of the Navigators Briefing and the navigation specialist officer’s briefing contribution at the Main Briefing which followed, for those of No. 467 Squadron’s crews who were to participate in the daylight Bomber Command attack on “Hitler’s Hideout” at Berchtesgaden, in April 1945.
As it turned out – like so many other planned attacks – this Operation had to be “scrubbed” (ie cancelled) at the last minute because of bad weather in the target area – but was carried out a day or so later by 359 Lancasters – of which some were from other squadrons in No 5 Group and some from Nos. 1 and 8 Groups. However it so happened that Nos. 463 and 467 Squadrons were not available to go there with them on that day due to our station’s involvement in an attack on Tonsberg in Norway which required take-off later in the same afternoon.
(As a result of the additional navigation section work which I had carried out while our crew was “off Ops” waiting for the return of Cec and Ernie and also after we returned to Ops, the squadron navigation leader, when he was informed by the squadron commander early in May that the Bache crew had been selected as one of several crews for a voluntary posting from No. 467 Squadron to Transport Command, tried to convince me not to go with them. He indicated that I was being recommended for a navigation leader’s training course – and would then probably go with the squadron on its intended transfer to the Far East theatre of War.
However, because of the close crew bonds developed during our earlier Operations – and particularly as a result of the events on 1st January 1945, I decided to stick with Merv, Sam and Cec in their transfer to Transport Command.)
Ernie returns to the crew and we return to Operations.
As events turned out, Ernie was declared fit for flying after several weeks and we resumed Ops with him back with us on 19th February, as by this time we were starting to “champ upon the bit” again. However we had to make use of the substitute wireless operators – Cec still being out of action.
Merv’s promotion and his new role on the squadron.
By then Merv had been promoted to the rank of Flight Lieutenant and on occasions had acted as O/C of our “A” Flight, then as O/C “B” Flight, to which our crew was transferred some time in March.
Cec returns to the crew for our trip in “S Sugar”
According to my diary, Cec – who had been recovering from his ankle injury in the RAF hospital at Wroughton, near Crewe, (as was Ernie after they were both transferred from the hospital in Holland) – was flown back to the squadron by Merv and I when he has discharged from there on 22nd February.
However he did not stay, but went to a convalescence place near Liverpool and remained unfit for flying for the remainder of our Operational Sorties – rejoining the crew just in time for our flight to Jouvincourt in France in PO-S on 6th May to bring a planeload of ex-prisoners of war back to England.
Page 2
[page break]
End of the war in Europe and its effects on No. 467 Squadron.
Hostilities in Europe ceased on 7th May 1945 and No. 467 Squadron was one of the Bomber Command squadrons selected for transfer to the Far East theatre of War.
Part of the Bache crew transfer to Transport Command.
Cec then joined Merv, Sam (who had been commissioned in February) and I, in our transfer on 11th May from No 467 Squadron of Bomber Command to Transport Command – to which we were posted as one of five “part-crews” from Waddington.
(These crews were taken from those who were apparently classified as “nominally tour expired” – ie those who had carried out 28, but in our case 25, Operations).
We went to the recently transferred RAAF No. 466, ex No. 4 Group Bomber Command Halifax squadron at Driffield for Transport Command flying training.
Sam’s Departure from Driffield.
We thought that the bomb-aimers who were transferred with us to No. 466 Squadron would have been trained as load masters for Transport Command flying crew “cargo supervision etc”, but were informed shortly after arrival on No. 466 Squadron that it had been decided they were now not required.
So Sam was to leave us! However the blow was softened considerably when he received notification that, because of his long period of service in the RAAF (including time served as a medical orderly in ground staff in the New Guinea theatre of war), he was to be repatriated back to Australia where he would be eligible for discharge from the Service.
He was first of all transferred to the Australian Aircrew Holding Centre at Brighton, on the south coast of England – to await a draft back home aboard a troopship.
Merv, Cec and I continue Transport Command training on No. 466 Squadron.
Merv, Cec and I continued on with No. 466 Squadron at Driffield – where we picked up an Australian Second Pilot (Merv becoming Senior Pilot) – and then converted to and flew in their Halifax bombers.
We then went with the squadron when it relocated to RAF Bassingbourn in September.
From Halifaxes to Liberators.
At Bassingbourne the squadron converted from Halifaxes to 4 engine Liberator bomber type aircraft – American designed and built – and a somewhat different aircraft from the 4 engine British designed and built heavy bombers in which we had previously flown. (It was not long before I christened the Liberator “the Flying Brick” after comparing its flying characteristics with those of our beloved Lancasters).
After we had completed a number of familiarisation exercises in the UK we were scheduled to undertake training flights and later, service transport operations, between UK and India.
The end of World War II in the Far East and the disbanding of 466 Squadron.
We were about to carry out our first training flight to India when the war in the Pacific area suddenly ended – resulting in the squadron being disbanded on 26th October 1945.
Page 3
[page break]
So the four of us, including the Australian Second Pilot, were transferred to Brighton for repatriation back home and discharge from the RAAF.
Our return to Australia.
As things turned out, all the Australian members of our crew, except for Sam, who had left England much earlier – finished up finally going back to Australia together on the same ship – the Athlone Castle.
Our return by sea to Australia is another story – including us becoming involved in a Mutiny aboard the first ship, the Orion, on which we were embarked – and from which we were later disembarked again, back in England, after it broke down in the Bay of Biscay!
Return Home and Post War
Sam
Sam, who received his promotion to Flying Officer in August, returned to Sydney in NSW for discharge from the RAAF. He and his wife, Valda, now live in Wagga, N.S.W.
Merv
Merv returned to Adelaide in South Australia for discharge as a Flight Lieutenant. He and his wife, Ethel, continued to live there until he died in 1974.
Cec
Cec returned to Brisbane in Queensland, for discharge, by which time he had been promoted to the rank of Flying Officer. He married Dawn there and they continued to live in Brisbane, but later moved northwards to Caloundra, on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland – where he died from a war related complaint in 1997.
Les
Les, Jim and Ernie remained at Waddington – Les transferring to No 463 Squadron to join Jack Blair’s crew (also ex 467 Squadron, on which they had done 24 Ops prior to the end of the war in Europe). They subsequently moved with the squadron to RAF Skellingthorpe in July. Here he remained until the war in the Pacific concluded, after which No. 463 Squadron was disbanded on 25th September 1945 and all of its RAAF personnel were repatriated back to Australia. He had the rank of Pilot Officer when he was discharged.
Les married and he and his wife, Norma, now live at Seymour, Victoria.
Jim
Jim remained on No. 467 Squadron at Waddington after Merv, Sam, Cec and I left for Transport Command – and while there joined F/O C F Stewart’s crew (which had done 6 Ops on 467 Squadron prior to the end of hostilities in Europe) – as mid upper gunner.
They were posted to No. 463 Squadron, which was also located at Waddington, on 4th June – and went with this squadron when it was relocated to RAF Skellingthorpe on 3rd July.
They remained with No. 463 Squadron until it was disbanded on 25th September 1945 – after which Jim was transferred to Brighton along with all its other Australian members and then returned to Australia for discharge from the RAAF. He was promoted to the rank of Warrant Officer sometime during this period.
Jim married and he and his wife, June, live in Sydney, N.S.W.
Page 4
[page break]
Australian War Memorial
Page 1 of [missing number]
No. 467 Squadron
No. 467 Squadron, Royal Australian Air Force was formed at Scampton in the United Kingdom on 7 November 1942. Although intended as an Australian squadron under Article XV of the Empire Air Training Scheme, the majority of its personnel were originally British. The replacement of these men with Australians was a gradual process and it was only towards the end of the war that the squadron gained a dominant Australian character.
The squadron relocated to Bottesford on 23 November 1942 and commenced operations on 2 January 1943. A year later it moved to Waddington, which remained the squadron’s home until the end of the war. Equipped with Avro Lancaster heavy bombers, and forming part of 5 Group, RAF Bomber Command, the squadron’s operational focus for much of the war was the strategic bombing offensive against Germany. Bombing almost entirely by night, it participated in all of the major campaigns of the offensive including the battles of the Ruhr, Berlin and Hamburg. In addition to Germany, the squadron also attacked targets in France, Italy, Norway and Czechoslovakia. On 20 June 1943, 467 was the first Bomber Command squadron to participate in the “shuttle service” where aircraft would leave the United Kingdom, bomb a European target, and then fly on to an airfield in North Africa. There they would refuel and rearm and then bomb another target on their return flight to Britain. The German port of Friederichshafen was the outbound target, and the Italian port of Spezia the inbound one.
In addition to the strategic bombing offensive, 467 Squadron was also employed in support of ground operations prior to, and during the D-Day landing, during the drive out of the Normandy beachhead in mid-1944, and during the crossing of the Rhine in March 1945. The squadron also participated in the offensive to remove the threat posed by Germany’s terror weapons and participated in raids on the weapons research facility at Peenemende, and on V1 flying bomb and V2 rocket assembly and launch sites in France.
467 Squadron’s last bombing raid of the war was an attack on the oil refinery and tankerage at Vallo in Norway. Even before the cessation of hostilities, the squadron was employed to ferry liberated Allied prisoners of war from Europe to Britain and it continued in this role after VE Day. The squadron was one of several identified to form “Tiger Force”, Bomber Command’s contribution to the strategic bombing campaign against Japan. It relocated to Metheringham to prepare for this role, but the war against Japan ended before “Tiger Force” was deployed. 467 Squadron disbanded on 30 September 1945.
Between January 1942 and April 1945, 467 Squadron flew 3,833 sorties and dropped 17,578 tons of bombs. It suffered heavily in the course of its operations – 760 personnel were killed, of whom 284 were Australian, and 11 [missing number] aircraft were lost.
References AWM 64, RAAF formation and unit rolls [2 symbols] ORMF 0118, Roll 95 [2 symbols] 1/426 December 1942 – December 1943 [2 symbols] 1/427 January – December 1944 [2 symbols] 1/428 January – October 1945 [2 symbols] 1/435A December 1942 – March 1945; Units of the Royal Australian Air Force; a concise history. Volume 3, bomber units, (Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service, 1995).; H.M. Blundell, They flew from Waddington! 463 – 467 Lancaster Squadrons, Royal Australian Air Force, (Sydney: W. Homer, 1975).
Category Unit
http://www.awm.gov.au/unit/U59451/
4/10
Dublin Core
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Title
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463 & 467 Squadron Notes on Ops
Description
An account of the resource
Extracts from publications giving details of all operations by 467 and 463 Squadrons from 10 September 1944 to 25 April 1945. Details include number of aircraft, target, bombloads and losses. Interspersed are details of operations carried out by Herbert Adam's crew on 467 Squadron between 10 September 1944 and 16 January 1945 which include many extracts from his diary describing operations and daily activities. Included are photographs of aircraft, crew members, air to ground views, targets, cook's tour and a map diagram. Details of 5 Group Squadrons, Extracts from books and a summary of Bache crew's experiences after operation to Dortmund Ems canal.
Creator
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H G Adams
Format
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Seventy eight page handwritten book
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Text. Personal research
Identifier
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MAdamsHG424504-170215-01
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Australian Air Force
Conforms To
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Pending review
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
France
France--Le Havre
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
France--Pas-de-Calais
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Germany
Germany--Darmstadt
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Bremerhaven
Germany--Rheydt
Germany--Mönchengladbach
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Kaiserslautern
Germany--Wilhelmshaven
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Braunschweig
Netherlands
Netherlands--Walcheren
Netherlands--Vlissingen
Germany--Nuremberg
Norway
Norway--Bergen
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Germany--Hamburg
Norway--Trondheim
Germany--Munich
Germany--Heilbronn
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Harburg (Landkreis)
Germany--Giessen (Hesse)
Germany--Euskirchen (Kreis)
Poland
Poland--Gdynia
Belgium
Belgium--Houffalize
France--Royan
Germany--Merseburg
Czech Republic
Czech Republic--Most
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Siegen
Germany--Dresden
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Pforzheim
Germany--Sassnitz
Germany--Essen
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Halle an der Saale
Germany--Würzburg
Germany--Wesel (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Nordhausen (Thuringia)
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Germany--Flensburg
Norway--Tønsberg
Germany--Düren (Cologne)
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Czech Republic--Plzeň
Germany--Herne (Arnsberg)
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
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1944-09
1944-10
1944-11
1944-12
1945-01
1945-02
1945-03
1945-04
1944-04-05
1944-04-06
1944-06-14
1944-06-15
1944-06-30
Publisher
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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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Tricia Marshall
463 Squadron
467 Squadron
5 Group
air gunner
aircrew
bombing
bombing of Toulouse (5/6 April 1944)
Cook’s tour
Gibson, Guy Penrose (1918-1944)
Grand Slam
H2S
killed in action
Lancaster
Mosquito
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
nose art
RAF Waddington
searchlight
tactical support for Normandy troops
Tallboy
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1652/26481/SBriarsRA1299161v1.1.pdf
2a781daac7a5ee89fd2d6eb170264b96
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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Casswell, Robert Ivan. Ralph Briars DFM
Description
An account of the resource
1 Item. Was an air gunner on John Sanders and Roy Machin's crew on 49 Squadron. Collection consists of a memoir.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2015-10-27
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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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Briars, R
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[picture]
REAR VIEW
Ralph Briars
[page break]
[photograph]
TO MARK AND AMANDA, IN THE FERVENT HOPE THAT THEY AND THEIRS NEVER BECOME INVOLVED IN WORLD UPHEAVALS SUCH AS HAPPENED BETWEEN 1939 AND 1945
DEDICATED FIRSTLY TO MY TRAVELLING COMPANIONS IN THOSE UNFRIENDLY SKIES, PARTICULARLY TO JOHN SANDERS WHO FLEW US THERE AND BACK, AND JAMES BARRON WHO GUIDED US. THE OTHERS AL AND ARTHUR, ROY AND TOMMY, ALL STRANGERS THROWN TOGETHER IN THE COMMON CAUSE.
SECONDLY TO BILL HUDSON WHO CAME WITH ME FROM GUNNERY SCHOOL TO FISKERTON, A WARMLY REMEMBER [sic] PERSON WHOSE FAVOURITE TIPPLE WAS GUINESS AND GIN-MIXED. SADLY HIS AIRCRAFT DID NOT RETURN FROM A RAID IN MARCH 1944, SHORTLY BEFORE WE WERE POSTED TO 617 SQUADRON.
[page break]
[underlined] FORE-WORD [/underlined]
TO EMPLOY A WELL WORN BUT NONE THE LESS ACCURATE CLICHÉ, LIFE IS FULL OF SURPRISES. THUS I PONDERD [sic] RUEFULLY, IN JANUARY 1944, ON FINDING MYSELF SITTING AT THE REAR OF A LANCASTER BOMBER EN ROUTE TO STETTING, WHICH IS THE WRONG SIDE OF DENMARK. NOT THAT I AM UNPATRIOTIC REALLY, BUT DURING THE TIME THAT HAD PASSED SINCE JOINING THR [sic] ROYAL AIR FORCE I DID THINK THAT SOMEONE OUGHT TO GET A MOVE ON AND WIN THE WAR BEFORE I BECAME INVOLVED.
THE R.A.F. INVITED ME TO JOIN IN 1941 ON THE ROSY PROSPECT THAT TRAINING AS A WIRELESS OPERATOR/AIR GUNNER – KNOWN IN THE TRADE AS A WOP/AG – WOULD FOLLOW INITIAL INSTRUCTION ON GETTING THE LEFT FOOT AND RIGHT ARM IN SYNCHRONISATION ON MOVING OFF. SO AWAY TO SAMPLE THE DELIGHTS OF THE BLACKPOOL LANDLADIES, BLESS-EM. SOME WERE LIKE MUVVERS, OTHERS LET YOU WASH IN THE YARD AND NO WARM SHAVING WATER. ONE LEARNED, USUALLY TOO LATE, NEVER TO EXPOUND THE VIRTUES OF THEIR COOKING – OR ANY OTHER ACTIVITY – FOR THE PERMANENT STAFF SOON HAD YOU OUT AND THEMSELVES IN, TO USE THE VERNACULAR, WITH THEIR FEET AND TRULY UNDER THE TABLE.
NOW I WOULD NOT SAY THE MORSE CODE IS PARTICULARLY DIFFICULT TO LEARN GIVEN MORE TIME MY INSTRUCTORS WERE PREPARED TO OFFER, AND AS THE WAR WAS NOT GOING ALL THAT WELL I HAD TO DEPART FROM THIS POSH PART OF LANCASHIRE. ALTHOUGH I WAS A BIT MIFFED AT THE TIME, THE DECISION WAS EVENTUALLY ADVANTAGEOUS, AS I WILL EXPAND LATER,..
SO THERE I WAS, WITH A FEW OTHER FAILURES, ON THE ISLE OF SHEPPEY, BEING INSTRUCTED ON A DIFFERENT SUBJECT, PARACHUTE AND CABLES. BEAR WITH ME, IF YOU WILL, YOU’LL NOT BELIEVE THE REST. SOME BRIGHT SPARK IN THE MIN. OF DEFFENCE [sic] INVENTED A FORM OF DEFENCE AGAINST LOW FLYING AIRCRAFT CONSISTING OF A ROW OF TUBES SET VERTICALLY AND CONTAINING ROCKETS TO WHICH WERE ATTACHED. [sic]
[page break]
2
LONG LENGTHS OF STEEL CABLE, WITH INCREDIBLE ACCURACY YOU FIRED THESE OFF JUST AS AN AIRCRAFT – PREFERABLE [sic] BELONGING TO THE OTHER SIDE – WAS ABOUT TO CROSS THE LINE, WHERE-UPON UP THEY WENT TO AROUND 800 FEET, EJECTING A PARACHUTE FIXED TO THE CABLE WHICH THEN SLOWLY DROPPED TO THE GROUND. IF THEN YOUR TARGET WAS NOT ENTANGLED IN THE STEEL CURTAIN, OR A SECOND ONE CAME ALONG, YOU NEEDED AT LEAST 30 MINUTES TO REFILL THE SYSTEM, PRESUMABLY THIS VISIONARY TYPE OF DEFENCE AROSE DURING THE PROBLEMS OF SUPPLYING CONVENTIONAL WEAPONS AT THAT STAGE OF THE WAR, AND WAS USED TO DEFEND MERCHANT SHIPPING AS WELL AS AIR FIELDS.
ANYWAY, I WAS PACKED OFF TO SAVE THE R.A.F. BASE AT LINTON-ON-OUSE, NEAR YORK, AND IN THE PERIOD FROM CHRISTMAS 1941 TO AROUND FEBRUARY 1943 WE FIRED NOT ONE SHOT. NO DOUBT THE LUFTWAFFE HAD HEARD ABOUT IT ALL. DURING THIS EXCITING PERIOD I MADE REGULAR APPLICATIONS TO TRAIN AS AN AIR GUNNER, FOR NOT ONLY WAS THIS DEFENCE WORK FARCICAL – FOR EXAMPLE ONE COULD NOT OPERATE AFTER DARK AS THERE WAS NO REFERNCE [sic] TO JUDGE DISTANCE – OUT DEFENCE DUTIES WERE BEING SLOWLY TAKEN OVER BY THE NEWLY FORMED R.A.F. REGIMENT, WITH ALL THE ASSOCIATED ARMY STYLE TRAINING WHICH I COULD PLAINLY SEE WAS NOT GOING TO BE MY CUP OF TEA AT ALL.
EVENTUALLY I FOUND MYSELF IN ST. JOHNS WOOD, IN LONDON, ONCE AGAIN ON ASSESSMENTS AND INITIAL TRAINING LEADING TO A GUNNERY COURSE. THENCE TO BRIDLINGTON FOR THE REAL THING, WHERE AMONGST DIVERS ACTIVITIES WE SPENT HOURS IN A LOCAL GARAGE WHIRLING AROUND ON DIFFERENT TYPES OF GUN TURRETS MOUNTED UPON METAL FRAMES CONTAINING SMALL PETROL ENGINES WHICH SUPPLIED ELECTRIC AND HYDRAULIC POWER. NEARBY FLAMBOROUGH HEAD WAS USED FOR LIVE FIRING MUCH TO THE DISCOMFORT OF THR [sic] RESIDENT GULLS, FOR THE CONTINUAL USE OF OLD GUNS SEEMINGLY SO WIDENED THE BORE THAT TRACER BULLETS RARELY FOLLOWED EACH OTHER BUT WANDERED ABOUT LIKE GUNSHOT.
[page break]
3
THE NEXT STOP WAS DALCROSS, THE FLYING SCHOOL NEAR INVERNESS WHICH IS NOW THAT TOWN’S AIRPORT. WHERE WE SPENT SEVERAL WEEKS IN LOVELY WEATHER FLYING OVER THE MORAY FIRTH IN OLD DEFIANTS AND ANSONS FIRING AT TOWED TARGET DROGUES OR SEA MARKERS. MANY OF THE PILOTS WERE POLISH, TEMPORARILY WITHDRAWN FROM ACTIVE DUTY, AND THEY UNDERSTANDABLY WANTED TO RETURN TO BASHING THE HUN RATHER THAN FERRYING AROUND THREE TYRO GUNNERS AND THEIR INSTRUCTOR. ONE OCCURRENCE THAT WOULD INVITE A FLOW OF FURIOUS POLISH – THE PURPORT OF WHICH WAS CLEAR EVEN THOUGH THE LANGUAGE WAS NOT – WAS WHEN AFTER PAINFULLY CLIMING [sic] TO HEIGHT AND AWAITING THE ARRIVAL OF THE TARGET TOWING AIRCRAFT THE FIRST GUNNER IN THE TURRET SHOT OFF THE DROGUE. AMONGST US GUNNERS THIS WAS SEEN AS EVIDENCE OF GREAT PROWESS, BUT THE RESULT WAS RATHER A LONG HOPEFULL [sic] WAIT FOR A NEW DROGUE TO BE STREAMED BY THE TOWING AIRCRAFT, OR, AS MORE OFTEN HAPPENED, A RETURN TO THE AIRFIELD. EACH GUNNER FIRED 200 ROUNDS. THE TIPS OF WHICH HAD BEEN DIPPED IN A STICKY SORT OF PRINTERS INK, RED PURPLE OR GREEN, SO THAT THE HITS COULD BE COUNTED. THE PROCEDURE WAS FOR US TO LAND FIRST AND AWAIT THE DROPPING OF THE DROGUE TARGET, WHICH WE HAD TO LUG INTO THE SCOOL [sic] FOR ASSESSMENT. OH! THE EXCITEMENT! HOW MANY WOULD YOU HAVE? HAD YOU, IN FACT ANY? 10 WAS EXCELLENT 15 INCREDIBLE, MORE OFTEN IT WAS SINGLE NUMBERS. AIR TO AIR FIRING WAS WILDLY WASTEFUL, NONE OF YOUR HEAT-SEEKING MISSILES THEN!
WE DID A LOT OF GUN TURRET TRAINING, AND COULD EVENTUALLY WRITE OUR NAMES BY MEANS OF A PENCIL WEDGED INSIDE THE GUN BARREL WHICH ENABLED ONE TO TRACE THE LETTERS ONTO A BOARD HELD IN FRONT OF THE TURRET. HOURS WERE SPENT INSIDE LARGE WHITE WASHED DOMES WHERE MOVING FILMS OF VARIOUS ATTACKING AIRCRAFT WERE PROJECTED, AND WITH A TORCH STRAPPED TO THE GUN BARREL ONE HAD TO SHOW CONVINCING ABILITY TO TRACK AND LEAD THE TARGET. ALERTNESS WAS EVERYTHING, FOR SOMETIMES A BRITISH AIRCRAFT WOULD BE SHOWN, AND IF NOT
[page break]
4
IDENTIFIED HEAVY SARCASM WOULD BE OBSERVED BY THE INSTRUCTOR, HAD NOT THE SERVICE ENOUGH TROUBLES ALREADY?
THE END OF THE COURSE CAME AND WITH THE EXCEPTION OF ONE UNFORTUNATE SOUL WE ALL PASSSED [sic]. THERE WE WERE AGAIN, BACK ON THE OLD L.M.S., TRAIN, DESTINED FOR VARIOUS COMMANDS AND GROUPS THROUGHOUT THE COUNTRY. PASSING ALONG THE GRAND SCOTTISH SCENE THROUGH AVIEMORE, PERTH AND CARSTAIRS, AND THEN BY WAYS DEVIOUS I ENDED THE JOURNEY, WITH ONE ACQUAINTANCE FROM DALCROSS, AT 14 C.T.U. [sic] 9 (OPERATIONAL TRAINING UNIT) AT COTTESMORE IN WHAT AT THE TIME WAS THE PLEASANT COUNTY OF RUTLAND.
HERE FOR THE FIRST TIME WE MET OTHER FLYING TRADESMEN, PILOTS, NAVIGATORS, WIRELESS OPERATORS AND BOMB AIMERS. FIVE TO A CREW FOR THE TIME BEING, AS WE TRAINED ON WELLINGTON TWIN ENGINE AIRCRAFT. IN A SURPRISING BUT SOMEHOW VERY BRITISH WAY, A NOVEL WAY OF FORMING CREWS WAS ADOPTED.
NOT FOR US A LIST OF WHO WOULD FLY WITH WHOM, WHICH MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED, BUT INSTEAD A PERIOD – FROM LONG MEMORY AROUND TWO DAYS – IN WHICH WE MADE OUR OWN SELECTION. ANYONE NOT CREWED UP IN THE TIME ALLOTTED WAS MADE UP WITH OTHERS SIMILARLY PLACED. SO IT WAS DOWN TO THE (GEORGE) AT OAKHAM, AND BY THE TIME WE WERE CHUCKED OUT MOST CREWS WERE ARRANGED. HOW, YOU MIGHT SAY, DID ONE CAREFULLY SELECT SUITABLE SKILLED, ALERT, ETC. COMPATRIOTS WITH WHOM TO GO SWANNING AROUND GERMAN SKIES? DID ONE EARNESTLY ASK A PILOT HOW MANY HAD HE WRITTEN OFF ALREADY, OR SEEK A NAVIGATORS OPINION ON THE TRIANGLE OF VELOCITIES? YOU MUST BE JOKING! AFTER A FEW DRINKS WE WERE ALL EXCELLENT FELLOWS! THIS NAVIGATOR STEADIED HIMSELF ON ME AND SAID HE HAD A PILOT, WAS I FIXED UP? SEEMINGLY REASONABLY RESPECTABLE I WANT ALONG WITH HIM TO SEE THE PILOT, WHO HAD TWO WINGS UP SO WAS CLEARLY RELIABLE, AND HE TOOK ME ON, WE THEN ALL FOUND A WIRELESS MAN APPARENTLY KNEW ALL THE PUBS IN NOTTINGHAM, AND ON---
[page break]
5
ON THE WAY BACK ASSISTED THIS CANADIAN BOMB AIMER WHO WAS NOT SURE WHICH WAY EAST OR WEST, AND SO SANDERS SAINTS WERE FORMED.
TOGETHER WE TRAINED AS A TEAM UNTILL [sic] THE END OF SEPTEMBER, FLYING OUT OF SATELLITE AIR FIELDS AT MARKET HARBOROUGH AND HUSBANDS BOSWORTH, TOTALLING AROUND 80 HOURS FLYING TIME. INITIALY [sic] THE PILOT WAS MOST INVOLVED IN FAMILIARISING HIMSELF, UNDER INSTRUCTION, WITH THE LARGER AND HEAVIER AIRCRAFT. ONE HAS SOME FEELING FOR HIM IN THIS, FOR HIS SKILL AND PROGRESS WERE WITHIN SIGHT AND SOUND OF THE REST OF US PASSENGERS DURING SEVERAL HOURS TAKINF [sic] OFF AND LANDING, COLLOQUIALLY KNOWN AS CIRCUITS AND BUMPS. HOWEVER JOHN SANDERS WAS QUITE UP TO ALL THIS, AND BEFORE LONG WE ALL HAD TO JUSTIFY OUR TRAINING DURING CROSS-COUNTRY EXERCISES, PRACTICE BOMBING AND GUNNERY. IN THESE THE PILOT AND NAVIGATOR WERE OF COURSE CONTINUALLY EXTENDING THEIR EXPERIENCE AND EXPERTISE, AS WAS THE WIRELESS OPERATOR, TUCKED UP IN HIS LITTLE NICHE, AND HERE I WOULD INTERPOSE MY FEELINGS TOUCHED UPON EARLIER CONCERNING MY SUMMARY EXIT FROM THE WIRELESS SCHOOL.
THE VITAL WIRELESS OPERATOR, - RECEIVING INFORMATION ABOUT WIND SPEED AND DIRECTION CHANGES, ALTERATIONS TO BOMBING TECHNIQUES, CHECKING THE INTERCOM, TUNING IN TO ENEMY AIRCRAFT AND THEIR CONTROLLERS WAVELENGTHS SO THEY COULD BE JAMMED VIA A MICROPHONE IN AN ENGINE COMPARTMENT, TRACKING POSSIBLE NIGHT FIGHTERS ON A SMALL VDU, - SAW LITTLE OF ACTUAL WAR. SOME MAY THINK IMAGINATION WOULD HAVE WORKED OVERTIME WONDERING WHAT WAS HAPPENING OUTSIDE, LISTENING AND FEELING BUT NOT KNOWING. THE SIGHTS I SAW FROM MY VANTAGE POINT AT THR [sic] REAR WERE NOT ALWAYS ENTIRELY REASSURING, BUT THAT’S REALITY, AS AN ALTERNATIVE TO NOT KNOWING AT ALL, WAS PREFERABLE.
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SHORTLY BEFORE LEAVING COTTESMORE AT THE END OF OCTOBER 1943 TWO MORE CREW MEMBERS ARRIVED, THE ENGINEER AND THE MID-UPPER TURRET GUNNER. WHILST THE FORMER COULD BE ACCOMMODATED IN THE DUAL COCKPIT OF THE WELLINGTON, THE NEW GUNNER WAS LESS FORTUNATE AND SPENT A FEW DRAUGHTY COLD SPELLS IN THE FUSELARGE [sic]. ROY MACHIN WAS A LITTLE LESS THAN DELIGHTED WITH LIFE, BUT IT WAS NOT LONG BEFORE WE MOVED AND HE HAD HIS OWN NEST.
SO IT WAS OFF TO THE LAST STAGE OF TRAINING AT WINTHORPE, NEAR NEWARK. THIS PERIOD OF SIX WEEKS WAS SIMILAR TO THAT AT COTTESMORE, EXCEPT THAT THIS UNIT, 1661 CONVERSION UNIT, FAMILIARISED US WITH THE SAME TYPE OF AIRCRAFT USED IN OPERATIONS, THE HALIFAX AND THE LANCASTER. I BELIEVE OUR 5 GROUP WAS PHASING OUT THE HALIFAX AT THE TIME, ANDWE [sic] ONLY FLEW ABOUT FIVE HOURS IN THEM. FROM THE GUNNERS POINT OF VIEW THE MAIN DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE TWO TYPES WAS THE BOULTON AND PAUL (BP) TURRET IN THE HALIFAX AND THAT MADE BY FRAZER-NASH IN THE LANCASTER. BOTH HAD FOUR GUNS FED BY AMMUNITION CONVEYED ON TRACKS FROM BINS NEAR THE CENTRE OF THE FUSELAGE TO AVOID UNWANTED WEIGHT AT THE REAR OF THE AIRCRAFT. THE BP TURRET WAS ELECTRICALLY OPERATED AND CONTROLLED BY A SINGLE JOYSTICK, WHEREAS THAT IN THE LANCASTER WAS HYDRAULICALLY DRIVEN WITH BICYCLE TYPE HANDLEBAR CONTROLS. I PREFERRED THE LATTER, PROBABLY DUE TO FAMILIARITY THOUGH BOTH HAD A SMOOTH AND PRECISE ACTION, EACH ‘303 BROWNING GUN FIRED ABOUT 1200 ROUNDS A MINUTE, AND WERE (HARMONISED) THAT IS FOCUSED FOR MAXIMUM CUMULATIVE EFFECT ON TARGET AT 400 YARDS. HAVING SEEN THE DEVASTATING RESULT OF SIX GUNS ON AN ENEMY AIRCRAFT DURING OUR FIRST OPERATION TO STETTIN WE HAD MUCH CONFIDENCE IN THEM.
THE PROBLEM WITH NIGHT OPERATIONS WAS, SIMPLY, SEEING THE ATTACKER. THE REAR GUNNER SEARCHED BEHIND AND BELOW, THE OTHER GUNNER BEHIND AND ABOVE, BOTH CONSTANTLY SCANNING THE SIDE AREAS AS WELL. THE MAIN DANGER CAME FROM TWIN ENGIND [sic] ME110’S AND JUNKERS 88’S NEITHER OF WHICH WAS ------
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PARTICULARY [sic] FAST BUT EASILY SURPASS A LADEN LANCASTER’S CRUISING SPEED OF 170 M.P.H. FURTHERMORE, SOME FIGHTERS WERE FITTED WITH UPWARD FIRING 20 M.M. CANNON, AND WOULD CREEP ALONG BELOW BOMBERS WHICH TENDEDTO [sic] SILHOUETTE AGAINST THE LIGHTER UPPER SKY. THEY WERE VERY DIFFICULT TO SEE, UNLESS THE GROUND WAS SNOW COVERED AND ALL WE COULD DO WAS TO CARRY OUT A BANKING SEARCH – THE PILOT DOING THE HARD WORK TILTING THE AIRCRAFT ENABLING THE AREA BELOW TO BE INSPECTED. THIS WAS, OF COURSE, DIFFICULT WITH A LOADED BOMBER, AND DOUBTLESS MANY GOOD CREWS WERE LOST DUE TO THE SHEER SLOG OF CONTINUAL SEARCHING AND A CONSEQUENT FALLING OFF OF EFFICIENT LOOKOUT.
THERE IS THOUGHT, HOWEVER THAT AS THE CANNON WERE, I BELIEVE, INCLINED AT 60 DEGREES ABOVE THE HORIZONTAL, IN ANY LIKELY FIRING ATTITUDE THE FIGHTER HAD TO BE BELOW, AND BEHIND, THUS WITHIN THE REAR GUNNERS FIELD OF SEARCH. PROVIDED NATURALLY IT WAS NOT TOO DARK TO SEE ANYTHING AT ALL!
MANY OF THE RADIAL ENGINED LANCASTER II WERE FITTED WITH AN EXTERNAL GUN POSITION OPERATED REMOTELY FROM WITHIN THE REAR FUSELARGE [sic], PROBABLY WITH A PERISCOPIC SIGHT VISIBILITY AT NIGHT WITH THE NAKED EYE IS OBVIOUSLY LIMITED AND MOST REAR TURRETS EVENTUALLY HAD THE PERSPEX PANEL FRONT OF THE GUNSIGHT REMOVED ENTIRELY. ANY FORM OR [sic] PERISCOPE WAS NO DOUBT FOUND TO HAVE SUCH A POOR FIELD OF VISION TO NOT JUSTIFY THE ADDITIONAL CREW MEMBER AND THE WEIGHT PENALTY INSTALLATION.
I HAVE INTERJECTED ONE OR TWO MATTERS FOR THE RECORD, AS THIS FORWARD TO THE DIARY FINISHES WITH COMPLETION OF THE COURSE AT WINTHORPE AND OUR POSTING TO 49 SQUADRON AT FISKERTON, A FEW MILES EAST OF LINCOLN, IN DECEMBER 1943.
A WORD ABOUT THE DEPTH OF TRAINING THE R.A.F. GAVE US. DESPITE THE WAR LOSSES OF PERSONNEL AND MATERIAL – MANY AND MUCH OR [sic] WHICH CAME BY HAZARDOUS SEA PASSAGES – THERE WAS NEVER ANY FEELING OF HASTE IN INSTRUCTING TRAINEES SO THEY COULD BE PASSED ON QUICKLY TO OPERATIONAL DUTIES.
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THE INSTRUCTING AND TRAINING SOMETIMES WAS UNIMAGINATIVE AND REPETITIVE, BUT IN THE OUTCOME IT WAS OF SUFFICIENT DEPTH FOR ONE TO ACHIEVE SOME SKILLS AND QUICK REACTION TO EVENTS. THIS IS PROBABLY TRUE OF THE OTHER SERVICES, AND SOMETHING FOR WHICH ALL TRAINEES SHOULD BE THANKFULL [sic]. HOWEVER, IT IS AN INEVITABLE FACT THAT IN WARTIME THE HIGHEST DEGREE OF TRAINING IS SUBJECT IN MANY RESPECTS TO LUCK, OR FATE, OR WHAT YOU WILL. THAT IS, BEING IN THE RIGHT PLACE AT THE RIGHT TIME OR BEING IN THE WRONG PLACE AT ANY TIME.
CONSIDER AIR COLLISIONS, A MATTER MUCH DISCUSSED IN THESE ‘80’S OBVIOUSLY IT CAN NEVER NOW BE KNOWN WHAT PROPORTION OF WARTIME LOSSES WERE DUE TO THIS CAUSE, BUT VISULISE [sic] THE FACTS. IN 1944 UP TO 800 OR SO BOMBERS TAKING OFF IN THE DARKNESS FROM DOZENS OF AIRFIELDS IN THE MIDLANDS AND EASTERN ENGLAND, NAVIGATION LIGHTS EXTINGUISHED BEFORE CROSSING THE COAST, ALL CLIMBING TOWARDS THE FIRST TURNING POINT. AS TIME TO BE OVER THE TARGET IS STAGGERD [sic] THROUGHOUT THE FORCE OVER A PERIOD OF SAY 20 MINUTES, AND THE NAVIGATOR FINDS SOME TIME MUST BE LOST, (DOG-LEGGING) IS RESORTED TO. SIMPLY THIS MEANS THE AIRCRAFT DIVERGES FROM THE COURSE BEING FOLLOWED AND RETURNS WHEN SUFFICIENT TIME HAS BEEN DROPPED.
THE IMPLICATION OF DELIBERATELY TURNING ACROSS THE PATHS OF MANY UNSEEN OTHERS AND RETURNING A LITTLE LATER STILL CHILLS ME. WHILST STILL OVER THE NORTH SEA IT WAS NOT UNUSUAL TO SEE AN EXPLOSION IN THE SKY, FOLLOWED BY BURNING DEBRIS, AND IN THE ABSENCE OF ANY PREVIOUS AIR TO AIR FIRING IT WAS REASONABLE TO ASSUME A COLLISION HAD OCCURRED. SOMEWHAT WORSE WAS WHEN THE TARGET WAS REACHED AND GROUND MARKERS HAD NOT BEEN DROPPED, OR WERE IN THE WRONG POSITION OR HAD BURNT OUT, AND IT WAS NECESSARY TO CIRCLE WHILST AWAITING FRESH MARKERS. CLEARLY, NOT ALL AIRCRAFT WOULD BE CIRCLING CONCENTRICALLY!
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THEN UPON RETURN TO ENGLAND THERE WOULD BE A CONVERGING OF THE THRONG, WHICH FOR VARIOUS REASONS WOULD BE FROM MANY DIRECTIONS. ONCE AGAIN WITHOUT NAVIGATION LIGHTS UNTILL CLOSE TO BASE (OR NOT AT ALL IF THE LUFTWAFFE WAS INFILTRATING THE STREAM HOPING TO FIND SOMEONE ASLEEP) WHERE WE CIRCLED HOPEFULLY WELL AWAY FROM ONE ANOTHER BEFORE BEING CALLED TO LAND. THIS WAS IRKSOME AT WOODHALL SPA BECAUSE BEING CLOSE TO CONINGSBY THE RING OF MARKER LIGHTS GUIDING AIRCRAFT AROUND EACH FIELD ACTUALLY INTERSECTED AND TO AVOID COLLISIONS AT THIS POINT WE ALL HAD TO FLY THE DOUBLE CIRCLE THUS CONSIDERABLY EXTENDING THE TIME TAKEN TO LAND. THIS PROCEDURE WAS OF COURSE PARTICULARLY TIRING TO THE PILOT WHO HAD BEEN AT THE CONTROLS CONTINUALLY FOR MANY HOURS.
THE POINT OF ALL THIS IS TO REITERATE THAT THE HIGHEST DEGREE OF TRAINING CANNOT NECESSARILY OVERCOME CIRCUMSTANCES WHERE THE ODDS ARE ADVERSELY STACKED. THE MIRACLE IS THAT SO MANY SURVIVED THESE ODDS; THE SADNESS THAT SO MANY CAPABLE CREWS WERE LOST, OFTEN THROUGH CAUSES OTHER THAN ENEMY ACTION. AN EXAMPLE OF THIS IS MENTIONED IN THE NOTES CONCERNING A RAID ON A TARGET NEAR RHEIMS ON THE 31ST OF JULY.
AS TO THE DIARY, WELL, THIS WAS WRITTEN UP SHORTLY AFTER EACH TRIP, USUALLY IN BED FOLLOWING THE TRADITIONAL SUPPER OR BREAKFAST OF EGG AND BACON. I HAVE NO RECOLLECTION WHY I WROTE IT, IT’S JUST THE SORT OF THING I USED TO DO. THE DIARY WAS MISSING FOR YEARS, BUT I HAD A FEELING IT WOULD RE-APPEAR, AND WHEN IT DID I DECIDED TO PROPERLY LAY IT OUT BEFORE IT WENT AGAIN. DESPITE WINCING AT THE STYLE AND PROSE OF THOSE TIMES I FELT IT RIGHT TO REPRODUCE IT VERBATIN [sic], WARTS AND ALL.
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[underlined] 6 – 1 – 44 STETTIN [/underlined]
FELT MORE INTEREST THAN NERVOUSNESS ON THIS TRIP – QUEER,. NOT TOO COLD AT 22,000 FEET, TARGET WELL ALIGHT. ENGAGED 109 WHICH WAS FINALLY SEEN WITH BROWN SMOKE POURING HEAVILY FROM THE ENGINE, OUR DAMAGE WASA [sic] FEW BULLETS FROM M.U. THROUGH THE FUSELAGE AND ONE THROUGH THE TURRET, SHAKY DO! SIX HOURS BACK – TERRIBLE, SAW SUN RISE OVER THE SEA, TEA NEVER SO WELCOME. SHORT OF FUEL, S.O.S. PREPARED, READY TO DITCH, FINALLY MADE IT AND LANDED AT THE FIRST DROME, LUDFORD MAGNA. PRETTY TIRED, 9 HOURS 50 MINUTES IN THE AIR. DICKENDS [sic] OF A JOB TO KEEP AWAKE, LUCKILY BAGS OF CLOUD, NEVER DID LAND LOOK MORE WELCOME AS THE COAST OF LINCOLNSHIRE.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] 109 WAS A SINGLE ENGINE MESSERSCHMITT AIRCRAFT, NORMALLY A DAY FIGHTER, BUT OCCASIONALLY SEEN AT NIGHT. WHEN THE ATTACK TOOK PLACE WE HAD JUST ENTERED AN AREA ILLUMINATED BY FLARES DROPPED BY HIGH FLYING GERMAN AIRCRAFT; THE FIGHTER APPROACHED FROM NEARLY DEAD ASTERN, FIRING – BUT MISSING – ALL THE WAY IN. AS I STARTED FIRING I SAW TRACER PASSING OVERHEAD FROM ROY MACHIN IN THE – UPPER TURRET (M.U.) AND ALTHOUGH INTERUPTER [sic] GEAR SHOULD HAVE PREVENTED HIS FIRE FROM DAMAGING OUR AIRCRAFT IN THIS INSTANCE IT DID NOT, FORTUNATELY WITOUT [sic] DISASTROUS RESULTS.
[underlined] 14 – 1 – 44 BRUNSWICK [/underlined]
FAIRLY COLD, -32 CALL LIGHT REPEATEDLEY [sic] FLASHED FOR NO GOOD REASON, HAD TO SMASH BULB HAVING NO WISH TO ADVERTISE OUR POSITION. CLEAR MOST OF THE WAY, 7/10 OVER TARGET, FIRES WERE NOT SO GOOD AS BEFORE, SAW 110 BUT DID NOT ENGAGE, LITTLE FLAK, BAGS OF SEARCHLIGHTS, NO OTHER FIGHTERS SEEN. SCARECROW FLARES SEEN, TWO LOADS JETTISONED NEAR TEXEL,. ENGINEER SHORT OF OXYGEN, DROPPED MY KNIFE WITH LEAFLETS. BACK AT 10-30 BEST LANDING JACK MADE. EGG, SAUSAGE, AND BACON FOR SUPPER, LOVELY;
[underlined] NOTES NEXT PAGE [/underlined]
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[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] CALL LIGHT WAS A SIGNALLING LIGHT AT ALL CREW STATIONS FOR USE IN CASE OF FAILURE OF THE NORMAL INTERCOM, IN THE GUNNERS POSITION IT COULD BE SEEN FROM OUTSIDE THE AIRCRAFT. 110 WAS A TWIN ENGINE MESSERSCHMITT, MUCH USED AGAINST THE R.A.F. AT NIGHT. SCARECROW FLARES GAVE THE EFFECT OF AN AIRCRAFT EXPLODING PRESUMABLY EMPLOYED AGAINST MORALE. WHEN BOMBS HAD TO BE JETTISONED THE RESULTING LINE OF EXPLOSIONS GAVE AN INDICATION OF ROUTE TO ANY NIGHT FIGHTERS IN THE AREA. BETTER THE BOMBS WERE DROPPED (SAFE) BUT THIS WAS UNDESIRABLE OVER ENEMY OR OCCUPIED TERRITORY AS THEY COULD BE RECOVERD [sic] AND EXAMINED. FUSES WERE OFTEN RE-DESIGNED TO FRUSTRATE, UNEXPLODED BOMBS BEING MADE SAFE BY THE ENEMY. TO BE HONEST, HOWEVER, IN AN EMERGENCY NECESSITATING JETTISONING A HEAVY LOAD IT SEEMS UNLIKELY THAT THE (SAFE) OR (LIVE) ASPECT WOULD OFTEN BE CONSIDERED! 7/10 INDICATED PROPORTION CLOUD/SKY.
[underlined] 20 – 1 – 44 BERLIN (MY BIRTHDAY) [/underlined]
NICE TRIP, FELT QUITE GOOD ALL WAY, EXCEPT USUAL SINKING FEELING OVER TARGET; THIS WAS WELL LIT UP, ANOTHER BROCKS BENEFIT, SCARECROWS AND ROCKETS ABOUT, FLAK NOT TROUBLESOME, NO FIGHTERS SEEN. DICKENS OF A JOB TO KEEP EYES OPEN LAST TWO OR THREE HOURS, EVEN STICKING HEAD INTO THE WIND DOESN’T HELP MUCH. MIKE WAS U/S FOR A PERIOD, HEARD SKIPPER SAY WAS I ASLEEP, CHEEK! FIRED TEST BURST OVER TARGET, GUNS O.K. WASN’T VERY COLD. CAME HOME A BIT QUICKER THAN USUAL, HOPE ALL TRIPS ARE AS PEACEFUL.
[underlined] Notes [/underlined] (MIKE) WAS MICROPHONE BUILT INTO OXYGEN MASK AND OFTEN FROZE DUE TO BREATH EXHALATION FREEZING. EVENTUALLY SMALL HEATERS WERE FITTED INTO THE MASK, AND THESE CURED THE PROBLEM.
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[underlined] 21 – 1 – 44 MAGDEBURG [/underlined]
HAD LITTLE TROUBLE OURSELVES, NO ENGAGEMENTS, A FEW FIGHTERS SEEN, BAGS OF FIGHTER FLARES AND SOME SCARECROWS. MIKE FROZE AS WE CAME ON TO THE TARGET, LUCKILY THERE WAS NO TROUBLE, IT BECAME U/S 1 HOUR FROM BASE. SPOOF ON BERLIN ABSOLUTELY USELESS, THERE BEING NO FLAK, FLARES OR ANYTHING, RAN INTO COASTAL FLAK ON RETURN, NO DAMAGE. TARGET WELL ALIGHT, LIKE STETTIN, 3/10 CLOUD. DON’T KNOW HOW I KEPT AWAKE AFTER LAST EFFORT, DARNED TIRED NOW.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] (SPOOF) WAS A DIVERSIONARY RAID, OFTEN CARRIED OUT BY MOSQUITO AIRCRAFT TO SOW DOUBT INTO THE GERMAN DEFENCES AS TO THE REAL TARGET. LIKE MANY THINGS IN WARTIME, SOME WORKED, OTHERS DID NOT.
[underlined] 27 – 1 – 44 BERLIN [/underlined]
VERY QUITE TRIP ON THE WHOLE, WARM TOO, TEMP. ABOUT – MINUS 20, DIFFICULT TO CLIMB – OVER TARGET AT .17,500 FEET. 10/10 CLOUD OVER CITY, NO FIGHTERS SEEN, THO’ OBVIOUSLY ACTIVE, QUITE A NUMBER OF FIGHTER FLARES, SAW ONE LANC. ONLY, NOT MUCH DOING OVER THE TARGET, QUEER. LONG ROUTE BACK, TERRIBLE BIND, ARRIVED AT ENGLISH COAST BANG-ON, DON’T KNOW HOW JOCK DOES IT. JACK WHEELED KITE IN, PERFECT LANDING NO TROUBLE WITH MIKE THESE DAYS.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] (JOCK) WAS THE NAVIGATOR JAMES BARRON, A CHEERFUL, SCOT WHO GUIDED US THERE AND BACK WITH LITTLE FUSS BUT WITH MUCH EXPERTISE. LIKE MOST BRITISH AIRCRAFT OF THE TIME, THE LANCASTER NORMALLY LANDED ON TWO MAIN WHEELS AND THE TAIL WHEEL, (THREE POINT) LANDING. OCCASIONALLY THE PILOT WOULD TOUCH DOWN ON ONLY THE TWO MAIN WHEELS, HOLDING THE TAIL WHEEL OFF THE RUNWAY UNTILL SPEED REDUCED. THIS WAS MUCH MORE COMFORTABLE FOR THE REAR GUNNER.
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[underlined] 29 – 1 – 44 BERLIN [/underlined]
THE BOYS WERE CERTAINLY WAITING FOR US TONIGHT, SAW COMBATS ALL THE WAY IN FROM THE COAST, BAGS OF FIGHTER FLARES, ROUTE LIKE PICCADILLY IN PEACE TIME. FIRED AT ORIGIN OF GREEN TRACER, SAW SOMETHING FALLING. TARGET HORRIBLY WELL LIT UP, HOW WE GET AWAY WITH IT BEATS ME, MARVELLOUS PRANG, FAR BETTER THAN PREVIOUS, SAW GLARE WHILE NEAR ROSTOCK ON THE WAY BACK. BAGS OF CLOUD MOST OF RETURN, - VERY USEFUL. CLOUD AT BASE DOWN TO 800 FEET, DON’T CARE FOR HEDGE HOPPING IN EARLY MORNING. VERY TIRED, BUT WE GO ON LEAVE TOMORROW!
[underlined] 15 – 2 – 44 BERLIN [/underlined]
10/10 CLOUD OVER MOST OF GERMANY, LITTLE TROUBLE EXCEPT AT TARGET, - LOADS OF FIGHTER FLARES AND FAIR AMOUNT OF FLAK BELOW, NO FIGHTERS SEEN. GENERATOR WENT U/S AFTER TARGET, GYRO COMPAS [sic] U/S, HAD TO USE P4. JACK MANAGED WELL. 23,000 FEET ON THE WAY BACK, SUITS NOT VERY USEFUL OWING TO LOW VOLTAGE. R/T U/S AT BASE, HAD TO USE VERY’S TO COME IN. TARGET NOT MUCH TO LOOK AT GENERALLY
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] I DON’T REMEMBER HOW MANY GENERATORS THERE WERE, BUT CLEARLY MORE THAN ONE! THE P4 WAS A STANDBY MAGNETIC COMPASS, QUITE RELIABLE BUT NOT SO EASY FOR THE PILOT TO FOLLOW AS WAS THE GYRO COMPASS REPEATER. (SUITS) REFERS TO ELECTRICALLY WARMED SUITS WORN BY BOTH GUNNERS. THERE WAS NO HEATING IN THE FUSELAGE AFTER THE MAIN SPAR AT THE WIRELESS OPERATORS POSITION, -- AND NOT A LOT FORWARD EITHER. VERY’S ARE SIGNALLING PISTOLS, USED HERE TO SEEK LANDING PERMISSION BY FIRING APPROPRIATETCOLOUR [sic] TO RUNWAY CONTROLLER IN THE CARAVAN, WHO SIMILARLY RESPONDED.
I NOTE FROM MY LOG BOOK THAT DURING THESE FIRST SEVEN OPERATIONS 261 AIRCRAFT WERE LOST. TOWARDS THE END OF FEBRUARY THIS INFORMATION WAS OMITTED, PRESUMABLY FOR BEING TOO GLOOMY TO INCLUDE.
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[underlined] 19 – 2 – 44 LEIPZIG [/underlined]
ON THE WAY OUT COULD GET NO GUN DEPRESSION, AGREED TO GO ON, FLACK AND SEARCHLIGHTS OVER COAST, SAW A NUMBER OF COMBATS, AND AIR WAS FAIRLY LIVELY ALL THE WAY TO THE TARGET; ARRIVED EARLY AND HAD TO STOOGE AROUND UNTILL THE MARKERS WENT DOWN. NOT A LOT OF OPPOSITION OVER TARGET, WHICH BLAZED UP QUITE WELL. SOON AFTER LEAVING THE TARGET OXYGEN TUBE DISCONNECTED FROM MASK, AND HAD TO COME HOME SUCKING TUBE – NOT VERY COMFORTABLE CLOUD MOST OF THE TRIP, COLD TOO – MINUS 30.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] ONE OF THOSE TRIPS; DESPITE PRE-FLIGHT AIR TEST, FAULT OCCURRED IN TURRET HYDRAULICS THAT PREVENTED GUNS BEING DEPRESSED BELOW HORIZONTAL. FORTUNATELY WE WERE NOT ATTACKED, - AND 79 AIRCRAFT WERE LOST.
[underlined] 20 – 2 – 44 STUTTGART [/underlined]
COLD TRIP, ABOUT 20,000 FEET MOST OF THE WAY, WENT OVER READING, FELT QUITE HOMESICK. VERY QUIET TRIP, COUPLE OF FLAK BURSTS OVER FRENCH COAST SHOOK ME A BIT. MIKE FROZE UP SOME TIME BEFORE TARGET, GETTING A REGULAR HABIT. 5/10 OVER TARGET, SAW BITS OF GROUND, GOOD PRANG, NOT MUCH FLAK, FIGHTER FLARES DID NOT ARRIVE UNTIL ABOUT 15 MINUTES AFTER LEAVING. HAD TO LAND AT DUNHOLME OWING TO TAKE-OFF CRASH AT BASE. PRETTY TIRED, BED LOOKED GOOD TO ME
[underlined] 24 – 2 – 44 SCHWEINFURT [/underlined]
ARRIVED AT THE SOUTH COAST IN TIME TO GET MIXED UP IN HUN RAID; CONED BY OWN SEARCHLIGHTS, LUCKILY COLOURS OF THE DAY DOUSED THEM BUT IT WAS PRETTY WARM. OVER THE OTHER SIDE IT WAS VERY QUIET, DIDN’T SEE ONE FIGHTER FLARE OR COMBAT. GOOD VISION, NO CLOUD, BOMBS WELL CONCENTRATED ON TARGET, BAGS OF SMOKE -----
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--- AND FIRES AS WE LEFT, AIRCRAFT CLIMBED WELL 23,000 FEET WAY BACK; FOR ONCE MIKE DIDN’T FREEZE, BUT ICE FORMED ON MASK OVER FRANCE.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] COLOURS OF THE DAY WERE FIRED FROM A VERY PISTOL FOR IDENTIFICATION PURPOSES, RED/WHITE GREEN/RED ETC. COLOURS WERE CHANGED AT REGULAR INTERVALS, SOMETIMES EVERY 12 HOURS, LEST THE ENEMY USED THEM TO PROTECT THEMSELVES AGAINST OUR DEFENCES.
[underlined] 25 – 2 – 44 AUGSBURG [/underlined]
7 HOURS SLEEP, AND NO SQUARE MEAL BEFORE TAKE-OFF, BAD SHOW ARRIVED FRENCH COAST IN SOME LIGHT, PROMPTLY GOT SHOT-UP BY FIGHTER, FEW HITS ON PORT WING AND COCKPIT. LOTS OF ACTIVITY OVER FRANCE, SAW SEVERAL KITES GO DOWN. 30 MILES FROM TARGET LANCASTER BELOW SQUIRTED AT US, DAMAGED AIRCRAFT BEHIND DOOR SEVERELY, ON FIRE, ROY AND I PUT IT OUT, REAR TURRET U/S, NO OXYGEN, HAD TO GO FORWARD. BOMBS JETTISONED, STARBOARD ELEVATOR FABRIC STRIPPED, BALANCE TAB PRACTICALLY SHOT OFF, INTERCOM U/S, KITE DIFFICULT TO HANDLE, SKIPPER DID WIZARD JOB GETTING US HOME AND LANDING – SHAKY NIGHT.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] (SQUIRTED) – FIRED AT US FROM REAR TURRET. U/S – UNSERVICEABLE. THE FOLLOWING WAS ADDED TO MY DIARY ENTRY, UPON SUBSEQUENT EXAMINATION IT WAS FOUND THAT THE AIRCRAFT HAD BEEN HIT BY CANNON SHELLS SO IT SEEMS WE WERE HIT BY STRAY SHELLS AT THE IDENTICAL MOMENT THE LANCASTER FIRED. ALTERNATIVELY THE LUFTWAFFE WAS USING A CAPTURED LANCASTER WITH CANNON IN THE TURRET. THE 5 GROUP INVESTIGATOR THOUGHT IT HIGHLY UNLIKELY. WONDER IF WE’LL EVER KNOW? I STILL HAVE NO DOUBT AS TO WHAT I SAW THAT NIGHT. THE LANCASTER BELOW US WAS QUITE VISIBLE AT INTERVALS WHEN WE PASSED OVER PARTLY SNOW COVERD [sic] LAND, I HAD NOTICED IT EACH TIME THE TURRET WAS ROTATED IN THAT DIRECTION, AND NO ONE WAS MORE SURPRISED THAN I WHEN THE STREAM OF TRACER CAME TOWARDS US – AND WE WERE ON FIRE. THE DIRECTION OF THE SUSTAINED DAMAGE AND THE EXPLOSIVE EVIDENCE SUGGEST
S THAT POSSIBLY -------
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------- AND AT THE SAME TIME WE WERE STRUCK BY CANNON SHELLS FROM A NIGHT FIGHTER BELOW AND TO THE OTHER SIDE. IT SOUNDS A BIT THIN, BUT THE CASE WILL HAVE TO REST.
PILOT JOHN SANDERS WAS AWARDED A IMEADIATE [sic] D.F.C. THE WIRELESS OPERATOR ARTHUR WARD AND THE TWO GUNNERS ROY MACHIN AND RALPH BRIARS WERE AWARDED IMEADIATE D.F.M.
[underlined] 10 – 3 – 44 OSSUN [/underlined]
FIRST TRIP IN BRIGHT MOONLIGHT, FELT VERY OBVIOUS IN THE SKY, VISION ABOUT 3 MILES. EXPECTED BAGS OF FIGHTERS, BUT NONE SEEN, DIDN’T GET IT; OVER FRANCE AT 15,000 FEET TEMPERATURE MINUS 14, LOVELY, TARGET AT 8,000 FEET. CLEAR OVER OSSUN, HAD TO IDENTIFY TARGET FOR A CHANGE, WERE STOOGING AROUND FOR ABOUT 20 MINUTES BUT DIDN’T FEEL UNDULY WORRIED, - IT WAS TOO PEACEFUL. AL FINALLY SAW THE TARGET AND WE BOMBED, WE HAD D A’S SO DID NOT SEE RESULT, BUT SAW AND HEARD OTHER BOMBS GO OFF. SAW PYRENEES, LOKED [sic] GRAND BUT RATHER FORBIDDING. RATHER TIRED ON RETURN.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] AL WAS OUR CANADIAN BOMB-AIMER, D A’S WERE DELAYED ACTION BOMBS, JUST TO CONFUSE OUR FRENCH ALLIES, WHO NO DOUB-T [sic] HAQD TO DEFUSE THEM.
[underlined] 15 – 3 – 44 STUTTGART [/underlined]
BAGS OF OPPOSITION ON THE WAY IN, SAW SEVERAL COMBATS – AND SEVERAL GO DOWN, NOT SO GOOD, MAKES ONE WONDER WHO’S NEXT. FLAK HEAVY OVER TARGET, NO FIGHTER FLARES, SAW ONE COLLISION. BIT IF [sic] A MIX UP, PFF LATE, FEW T I’S UNTILL WE LEFT, APEARED [sic] TO BE QUITE A GOOD BLAZE ON TARGET LATER. VERY QUIET RETURN, SAW NOTHING; CLOUDS UP TO 20,000 FEET IN PLACES, CON TRAILS APPEARD [sic] NEAR FRENCH COAST, MOON BRIGHT, EXPECTED TROUBLE, NONE CAME.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] PFF WAS PATH FINDER FORCE WHO IDENTIFIED THE TARGET AND DROPPED TARGET IDENTIFIERS – COLOURED GROUND MARKERS WHICH THE MAIN FORCE FOLLOWING BEHIND SIGHTED UPON -----
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----- AND THESE WERE BACKED UP AS NECESSARY AS THR [sic] RAID PROGRESSED SO POOR OLD PFF HAD TO CIRCLE AROUND UNTIL EVERYONE HAD DONE THEIR BIT, NOT AN ENVIABLE JOB; CON. TRAILS THEN, AS NOW, OCCUR WHEN AIR CONDITIONS ARE SUCH THAT WATER VAPOUR IN EACH ENGINE’S EXHAUST BREEZES [sic] AND TRAILS ALONG WHITE PLUME, JUST RIGHT FOR A NIGHT FIGHTER TO FOLLOW. CHANGING HEIGHT DOWNWARDS WAS THE CURE AND THE PILOT PROMPTLY DID SO ON HEARING THE WAILS FROM THE GUNNERS.
[underlined] 30 – 3 – 44 NUREMBURG [/underlined]
VERY COLD TRIP, OPPOSITION HEAVY SOUTH OF RHUR, FULL MOON NO CLOUD TO KEEP FIGHTERS DOWN. USUAL TROUBLE, ROUTE TOO LONG, JERRY MARKING TRACK ON BOTH SIDES WITH COLOURED FLARES, 96 AIRCRAFT LOST A.M. WILL HAVE TO REVISE ROUTING METHODS. SAW AT LEAST A DOZEN KITES SHOT DOWN, BAD FOR MORALE IF NOTHING ELSE, SEVERAL ROCKETS OBSERVED. TARGET LOOKED POOR, THICK FLAK AT 17,000 TO 19,000 FEET. WAY BACK AGONY TO SIT TWO HOURS AND KEEP AWAKE. PERHAPS DAYLIGHTER WOULDN’T BE SUCH A STRAIN. TIRED AS HELL, BED;
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] THE LOSSES ON THIS RAID WERE THE WORST SUSTAINED DURING ONE OPERATION. AIR CHIEF MARSHALL HARRIS LATER SAID THAT AGAINST AN EXPERIENCED, WILY ENEMY, WHO WAS FAMILIAR WITH MOST OF OUR AIR WAR STRATAGEMS BY 1944, THINGS WERE INEVITABLE OCCASIONALLY DISASTROUS. SEEMINGLY THE LONG STRAIGHT ROUTE LEGS WERE, HOPEFULLY, A RUSE TO SUGGEST TO THE LUFTWAFFE THAT WE WERE GOING TO NUREMBURG, WHERE UPON THEY WOULD, BY EXPERIENCE, SUSPECT WE WOULD SUDDENLY DIVERT ELSEWHERE AND DISPOSE THEIR FORCES ACCORDINGLY, THIS TIME THEY WERE NOT DECEIVED. TRULY ONE CANNOT WIN’EM ALL, PARTICULARLY IN WARTIME. REFERENCE TO (DAYLIGHTS) REFERRED TO DAY OPERATIONS, OF WHICH AT THAT TIME, WE HAD NO EXPERIENCE. WHEN, LATER, WE FLEW MANY SUCH RAIDS, I ADDED A FOOTNOTE TO THIS DIARY ENTRY – AFTER 22 DAYLIGHT TRIPS I FOUND THIS TRUE – WELL, THERE’S NO ACCOUNTING FOR TASTES.
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FOLLOWING THR NUREMBURG TRIP WE WERE POSTED, QUITE SUDDENLY AND FOR WHATEVER REASON, TO 617 SQUADRON AT WOODHALL SPA, NORTH OF BOSTON LINCOLNSHIRE. THE MUCH PUBLICISED RAIDS ON THE GERMAN DAMS AT MOHNE, SORPE AND EDER WERE CARRIED OUT BY THIS SPECIALLY FORMED SQUADRON, WHICH WAS SUBSEQUENTLY, THOUGH NOT ENTIRELY RETAINED FOR SPECIALISED OPERATIONS. LEONARD CHESHIRE WAS THE WING COMMANDER WHEN WE ARRIVED AND HE WAS REPLACED BY WILLY TAIT IN JULY, I THINK BOTH WERE OF SIMILAR MOULD AND MUCH RESPECTED.
[underlined] 18 – 4 – 44 JUVISY RAILWAY YARDS – PARIS [/underlined]
DARK NIGHT, 10,000 FEET ALL THE WAY, TEMPERATURE MINUS 5,. DROPPED FLARES TO HELP MOSQUITOES IDENTIFY MARSHALLING YARD, THEN CIRCLED AND BOMBED THEIR MARKER, SAW ONE MOSQUITO CIRCLING AT 2-3000 FEET APPARENTLY UNCONCERNED AT WHAT LITTLE FLAK THERE WAS, IMAGINED BOMBS SHOOK IT RATHER. NO FIGHTERS, FLAK SHIP IN THE CHANNEL FIRED AT US, WISH WE HAD BEEN LOW ENOUGH TO DO THE SAME. CIRCLED BASE FOR 50-55 MINUTES BEFORE COMING IN, - SHADES OF FISKERTON.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] MOSQUITOES WERE TWIN ENGINE AIRCRAFT, LARGELY BUILT OF PLYWOOD AND GLUED TOGETHER. FAST AND HIGHLY SUCCESSFUL IN VARIOUS ROLES – NIGHT FIGHTERS, BOMBERS THAT COULD DROP 4000 POUNDS ON BERLIN, RECONNAISSANCE AND CLANDESTINE MISSIONS INCLUDING CONVEYING DIPLOMATS AND OTHERS IN THE (VERY COLD) BOMB BAY BETWEEN BRITAIN AND SWEDEN. BOTH CHESHIRE AND TAIT USED THESE FOR TARGET MARKING, LATER CHANGING TO ANOTHER EXCELLENT DESIGN, THE ROLLS-ROYCE ENGINE MUSTANG FIGHTER. PHOTOGRAPHS SHOWED AN UNUSUALLY CONCENTRATED BOMBING PATTERN, AT THE TIME WE DID NOT FULLY APPRECIATE THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THIS RAIL DISRUPTION SIX WEEKS OR SO BEFORE THE JUNE INVASION OF FRANCE. REFERENCE TO FISKERTON IS DUE TO THE GOOD OLD HABIT OF BELIEVING THE LAST WAS BETTER THAN THE NEW; ------
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------ INITIALLY I THINK WE FELT PROCEDURE AT WOODHALL WAS NOT TO THE STANDARD OF FISKERTON, IN OTHER WORDS WE WERE KEPT WAITING FOR OUR SUPPER; THIS SOMETIMES WAS DUE TO HAVING TO FLY AROUND TWO OUTER MARKER CIRCLES OF LIGHTS WHEN NEARBY CONNINGSBY WAS ALSO RECEIVING AIRCRAFT, AS MENTIOND [sic] IN THE FORWARD. TO BE FAIR, THOSE IN THE CONTROL TOWER WERE NO DOUBT JUST AS ANXIOUS TO GET US DOWN QUICKLY AS WE WERE; ONE’S FIRST DUTY WAS TO THE KING, THE SECOND TO GRUMBLE ABOUT THE METHOD OF SO DOING ..
[underlined] 20 – 4 – 44 PARIS – LA CHAPPELLE [/underlined]
INTRUDERS OVER AS WE TOOK OFF, STARTS STRAIN AT ONCE, STILL THERE WAS NO APPARENT TROUBLE. QUIET ALL IN AND OUT, BOMBED AT 11,500 FEET, TARGET, BEING NEARER THE CENTRE OF THE CITY, HAD QUITE A BIT OF MEDIUM AND LIGHT FLAK. LONG STRINGS OF RED AND GREEN CAME ALL ROUND, BURSTING ABOUT 1000 FEET BELOW, WITH BRIGHT SPARKLING FLASHES – PRETTY; AL WELL AND TRULY HIT THE YARDS WITH OUR BOMBS, CARRIED 12 X 1000 LBS BOMBS, NICE LOAD. SAW MOSQUITO RUN INTO AREA – AND SHOOT HELL OUT OF THEM. TEMPERATURE MINUS 5.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] (INTRUDERS) WERE NIGHT FIGHTERS PROWLING AROUND FOR SOMEONE LEAVING THEIR NAVIGATION LIGHTS ON TOO LONG AFTER TAKE-OFF MIND YOU, A TRICKY DECISION. LEAVE THEM ON FOR FRIENDS TO SEE – AND THE LUFTWAFFE, TURN THEM OFF AND RISK A COLLISION.
[underlined] 22 – 4 – 44 BRUNSWICK [/underlined]
LITTLE FIGHTER OPPOSITION IN OR OUT, CONDITIONS HAZY OVER TARGET ABOVE 18,000 FEET, SO WE DIVED THROUGH TO ABOUT 16,000 FEET TO BOMB, PFF A FEW MINUTES LATE SO IT WAS A NIGHT-MARE OF KITES COMING IN ALL DIRECTIONS. HEARD FLAK BURSTING FOR THE FIRST TIME, TARGET WAS WELL ON FIRE. LONG TRIP BACK, TO AVOID ANOTHER LANCASTER JACK DIVED SO SUDDENLY AND STEEPLY MY NEW THERMOS WAS BROKEN, MY KNEE BRUISED AND ALL THE AMMUNITION WAS THROWN OUT OF THE TANKS. -----
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----- INTRUDERS ALL THE WAY HOME, DARNED NUISANCE BUT WE HAD NO TROUBLE, TEMPERATURE MINUS 15 TO MINUS 20
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] AS MENTIONED IN THE FOREWARD, CIRCLING THE TARGET WHILST AWAITING MARKERS TO BE DROPPED BY THE PATHFINDERS WAS NOT THE MOST DESIRABLE OCCUPATION. LOOK AT THE MOANS AND GROANS, TOO, DON’T YOU KNOW THERE’S A WAR ON.
[underlined] 24 – 4 – 44 MILAN (ABORTED) [/underlined]
OUR FIRST BOOMERANG; (EARLY RETURN TO BASE) SHORTLY AFTER TAKE-OFF AN OIL PIPE IN THE TURRET BURST AND IN A FEW MINUTES THERE WAS NO OIL IN THE SYSTEM, - MOST OF IT WAS ON ME. AFTER A BIT OF NATTERY WE DECIDED TO RETURN, REMEMBERING THE LEIPZIG TRIP, AND IN VIEW OF A LONG JOURNEY – MILAN. PITY, BUT IT WAS THE BEST THING, BESIDES, WE GO ON LEAVE TOMORROW.
[underlined] 6 – 6 – 44 2ND FRONT (D-DAY) [/underlined]
AFTER NEARLY SIX WEEKS OF VERY BORING TRAINING AND INACTION WE DID OUR STUFF – SLINGING OUT WINDOW TO SIMULATE A CONVOY AND TO CONFUSE POOR JERRY; BY THE LACK OF OPPOSITION DURING TROOP LANDINGS IT APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN A USEFUL TRIP. TOOK TWO CREWS IN ONE KITE, ROY AND I TOOK TURNS AS FRONT GUNNER, QUITE A CHANGE. SAW SOME OF THE SHIPPING IN THE CHANNEL – GRAND SIGHT – ALSO THE LUFTWAFFE APPARENTLY ATTACKING A CONVOY, ONE SHIP CAUGHT FIRE AND BLEW UP. LOTS OF TUGS AND GLIDERS SEEN GOING OVER. QUIET TRIP.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] (WINDOW) WAS METALLIC COATED STRIP DROPPED TO CONFUSE ENEMY RADAR. WE FLEW OVAL COURSES, EACH CIRCUIT BEING PROGRESSIVELY NEARER FRANCE. THE INTERVALS OF DROPPING THE FOIL MATCHED THE SPEED OF AN IMAGINARY CONVOY IN THE CHANNEL APPROACHING THE COAST MILES TO THE EAST OF THE ACTUAL LANDING AREA IN NORMANDY -------
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------ I AM NOT NOW SURE, BUT POSSIBLY ANOTHER SQUADRON WAS WITH US. TWO CREWS BECAUSE OF THE QUANTITY OF WINDOW TO BE DROPPED. AGAIN, MANY AIRCRAFT ORBITING UNSEEN TO EACH OTHER OVER A FOUR HOUR PERIOD IN QUITE A NARROW SPACE. I DOUBT THE BLOOMIN’ INFANTRY BELOW CONCIDERED [sic] THERE WAS A LACK OF OPPOSITION! WE CAN ONLY HOPE OUR EFFORTS SOMWHAT [sic] REDUCED THE PRESSURE.
[underlined] 8 – 6 – 44 SAUMER (FRANCE) [/underlined]
FLEW THROUGH CLOUD MOST OF THE WAY THERE AND BACK, WEATHER CLEAR OVER TARGET. USUAL SCHEME, H2S KITES DROPPED FLARES AND MOSQUITOES MARKED WITH RED SPOT FIRES. SQUADRON CARRIED 12,000 POUNDER BOMBS, - LOOK LIKE TORPEDOES – AND WE TOOK 1,000 POUNDERS TO ATTACK NEARBY BRIDGE, WHICH TURNED OUT TO BE FAIRLY UNSUCESSFUL [sic]. BIG BOMBS MADE COLOSSAL FLASH AND WE SAW EARTH FLUNG TO HELL OF A HEIGHT, THIS WAS SUCESSFUL! FLAK FROM ONE GUN BURST AT OUR HEIGHT BUT ONLY IN ONE AREA, SO WE CIRCLED ROUND IT – NO FIGHTERS ARRIVED, - NO TROUBLE, DIVERTED TO METHERINGHAM AIRFIELD TO LAND BECAUSE OF LOW CLOUD.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] SAUMER WAS ON THE MAIN RAIL LINK TO NORTHERN FRANCE AND THE OPERATION WAS TO PREVENT PANZER DIVISIONS ARRIVING AT THE DEVELOPING BRIDGEHEAD AT NORMANDY. THERE ARE PICTURES SHOWING HOW COMPLETELY THE TUNNEL WAS BLOCKED. H2S WAS AN EARY [sic] FORM OF RADAR THAT GAVE THE NAVIGATOR A RATHER POOR PICTURE ON HIS VDU OF THE GROUND BELOW. RIVERS AND ESTUARIES SHOWED UP QUITE WELL, OTHER FEATURES WERE NOT EASILY DISTINGUISHABLE. THE EXTERNAL SCANNER WAS CONTAINED IN A PROMINENT HALF-EGG SHAPE HOUSING BELOW THE AIRCRAFT. THIS TRIP WAS THE FIRST TIME WE HAD COME ACROSS THE 12,000 LB. BOMB, CODE NAME (TALLBOY) AND WE SUBSEQUENTLY DROPPED MANY ON SPECIALIST TARGETS. THEIR TAIL FINS WERE OFFSET, AND WHEN DROPPED FROM NEARBY AIRCRAFT ONE COULD OBSERVE THEM STARTING TO SPIN AS THEY RAPIDLY FELL OUT OF SIGHT. MY LOG BOOK REVEALS THAT WITH CAPTAIN SANDERS I WENT TO METHERINGHAM BY ROAD TO FLY OUR LANCASTER BACK TO WOODHALL. AS FLIGHT ENGNEER [sic] (TEMPORARY UNPAID) I THINK I WAS PERMITTED TO RAISE THE UNDER-CARRIAGE (MY FINEST HOUR.)
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[underlined] 14 – 6 – 44 LE HAVRE [/underlined]
FIRST DAYLIGHT RAID – OVER THE TARGET ABOUT 10-30 P.M. FLEW IN FORMATION GOING, SOME SIGHT, WENT AS FRONT GUNNER AS WE STILL HAVE NO KITE OF OUR OWN. SECOND TO BOMB – WITH TALLBOY – TARGET QUIET UNTILL A FEW MINUTES BEFORE DROPPING THE BOMB, THEN THEY LET LOOSE BAGS OF LIGHT AND MEDIUM FLAK, PREDICTED, TOO AS BOMB LEFT FLAK HIT STARBOARD INNER ENGINE AND TOP TURRET, GUNNER OK, ENGINE HAD TO BE FEATHERED. E BOAT PENS, 25 FEET THICK, WERE HIT, GOOD BOMBING. SAW PART OF SPITFIRE ESCORT, NO ENEMY FIGHTERS SEEN, INTERESTING TRIP.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] THE LANCASTER WE FLEW FROM FISKERTON WHEN POSTED TO 617 SQUADRON IN APRIL 1944 REMAINED A 49 SQUADRON AIRCRAFT, ALTHOUGH WE USED IT ON SEVERAL OPERATIONS PENDING IT’S RETURN TO THAT SQUADRON. EVENTUALLY WE WERE ALLOCATED A 617 AIRCRAFT THAT HAD BEEN REPAIRED AFTER A SPOT OF BOTHER LATE IN 1943. OMINOUSLY NUMBERED ME562, IT NEVERTHELESS SERVED US WELL OVER NINE MONTHS FOR NINETEEN OR SO OPERATIONS, SURVIVED THE WAR AND WAS SOLD OUT OF SERVICE IN JANUARY 1947. BY CONTRAST, OF THE TWELVE OTHER OPERATIONAL LANCASTERS WE HAD FLOWN IN – EITHER ON RAIDS OR PRACTICE BOMBING OR OTHER EXERCISES – ONLY TWO SURVIVED, ONE BEING THE FIRST WE HAD FLOWN IN ON A CROSS-COUNTRY EXERCISE ON ARRIVAL AT FISKERTON.
[underlined] 15 – 6 – 44 BOULOGNE [/underlined]
FOUND PORT OUTER ENGINE MOUNTING HAD ALSO BEEN HIT AFTER LAST NIGHT, SO IT HAD TO BE CHANGED, THIS MADE US FORTY MINUTES LATE TAKING OFF BUT WE GOT OVER THE TARGET SHORTLY BEFORE REST OF KITES LEFT, VISIBILITY WAS VERY BAD WITH LOW CLOUD AND WE WERE TOLD TO RETURN TO BASE. BOB KNIGHTS, BEING A KEEN TYPE AND IN VIEW OF THE WORK THE GROUND CREW HAD DONE DECIDED TO BOMB. BAGS OF LIGHT AND MEDIUM FLAK, HOT FOR A FEW MINUTES, REAR TURRET AND OIL TANK HIT, NO ONE INJURED. TARGET LOOKED QUITE A MESS WHEN WE LEFT, SAW LITTLE FIGHTER COVER. TARGET HEIGHT 7,500 FEET. ------
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------ [underlined] NOTES [/underlined] HERE AGAIN, I FLEW WITH THE SAME PILOT AS THE DAY BEFORE. WHAT NOW PUZZLES ME IS WHY I FLEW FIVE SUCCESSIVE TRIPS WITH BOB KNIGHTS, AS FRONT GUNNER. WHAT WAS THE THEN P.O. SANDERS DOING ALL THIS TIME? I HAVE A FEELING HE WAS AWAY HAVING A BABY, FOR I HAVE A FAINT RECOLLECTION OF A CONSTANT AIR OF CRISIS CONCERNING THE EVENT. THERE WERE EVEN STRONG RUMOURS THAT A LANCASTER HAD BEEN BORROWED TO FURTHER THE ABOUT-TO-BE-FARTHER’S [sic] CAUSE.
[underlined] 19 – 6 – 44 WATTEN (PAS DE CALAIS) [/underlined]
TOOK OFF ABOUT 6 PM IN TRUE FIGHTER STYLE, ONE EACH SIDE OF THE RUNWAY, FLEW OVER IN FORMATION OF FIVE, WEATHER PERFECT. FIGHTER COVER OF SPITFIRES., MET US AT ORFORDNESS. TARGET 10-12 MILES INLAND, SAW RESULTS OF THE MARAUDERS WORK IN LOTS OF PLACES, A LITTLE FLAK OUTSIDE TARGET AREA DIDN’T TROUBLE US. CIRCLING FOR ABOUT 20 MINUTES BEFORE WING COMMANDER GAVE THE OK TO BOMB, TARGET DIFFICULT IT WAS IN A CLEARING ON THE EDGE OF A WOOD. BOMBING FAIR, BOMBAIMER’S [sic] A BIT DISAPPOINTED WITH RESULTS, WATCHED THE REST OF THE AIRCRAFT COMING IN TO BOMB AND THEN CAME HOME. BELIEVE BANDITS TURNED UP AS MOSQUITOES LEFT – GOOD SHOW, FLEW AT 17,000 FEET.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] THE OPERATION WAS AGAINST FLYING BOMB SITES AS WERE MANY OTHERS THIS MONTH AND AGAIN IN JULY. (MARAUDERS) WERE TWIN ENGINE AMERICAN BOMBERS MUCH USED BY THE TACTICAL AIR FORCES.
[underlined] 4 – 7 – 44 ST-LEV-D’ – ESSERENT (PARIS) [/underlined]
FULL MOON – EXPECTED – AND HAD A RECEPTION AS AT NUREMBURG, SEARCHLIGHT BELT JUST INSIDE COAST ANNOYING BUT NO FLAK. COMBATS SEEN ALL THE WAY IN AND OUT, AT TARGET WE TURNED AND HAD THE MOON BEHIND, HARDLY HELPFUL; FIGHTERS CAME IN FROM ALL DIRECTIONS, NEVER SEEN SO MUCH TRACER, GOT VERY MAD AND SCARED; ------
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------ JU88 AT LAST CAME NEAR ENOUGH TO GIVE IT TWO LONG SQUIRTS OF GUN FIRE AND IT APPEARED TO GO INTO ONE BIG BALL OF FIRE, LOST SIGHT OF IT BUT SKIPPER RECKONS IT BROKE IN HALF AND HIT THE DECK. UNABLE TO BOMB BECAUSE MARKERS INDEFINITE, PITY. FIGHTERS FOLLOWED ALL THE WAY TO OUR COAST, COULDN’T HAVE ANY COFFEE TILL WE GOT TO READING.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] TARGET HERE WAS A V.1 STORAGE DEPOT ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF PARIS. V1’S WERE PILOTLESS FLYING BOMBS V2’S WERE THE LATER GUIDED ROCKETS. THE LAUNCH SITES OF BOTH WERE THE FOCUS OF MUCH BOMBING EFFORT, AND WERE EXTREMELY DIFFICULT TO LOCATE.
[underlined] 17 – 7 – 44 WIZERNES (FRANCE) [/underlined]
TOOK OFF 11 A.M FLEW IN LOOSE BUNCH TILL REACHING TARGET, CLOSED UP A LITTLE THERE. WEATHER GRAND, ABOUT 1/10 CLOUD COVER OVER FRANCE, TARGET VISABLE [sic]. TARGET AREA HEAVILY BOMBED. SPITFIRE ESCORT, SAW NO HUN FIGHTERS, NO FLAK AT ALL, GENERALLY ALL WAS REMARKABLY QUIET. BOMBING SEEMED GOOD – ALTOGETHER VERY NICE AND QUIET TRIP. HAD TWO EGGS FOR DINNER, WONDER WHAT THE CATCH IS.
[underlined] 25 – 7 – 44 WATTEN [/underlined]
TOOK OFF ABOUT 07-00 FAIRLY CLEAR, COOL. SKY CLEARED NICELY OVER THE CHANNEL, TARGET EASILY SEEN. WATCHED KITES BEHIND AS WE RAN IN, SO INTERESTED THAT I FORGOT ABOUT DEFENCES, AND THEY LET GO SOME VERY ACCURATE FLAK JUST BEFORE BOMB WENT DOWN. DESPITE ALL THIS BOMBS WERE WELL DROPPED, GRAND SHOW ON BOMBAIMERS [sic] PART. WEAVED LIKE HELL FOR A FEW MINUTES TILL CLEAR OF AREA, NEVER FELT OR HEARD FLAK SO NEAR – SLUNG OUT SOME WINDOW MYSELF, STARBOARD TAILPLANE SLIGHTLY DAMAGED. SAW ONE KITE HIT IN ENGINE, SMOKE POURED OUT, ENGINE WAS FEATHERD [sic] AND THEY GOT BACK HOME.
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[underlined] 31 – 7 – 44 RILLY-LA-MONTAGE (NEAR RHEIMS) [/underlined]
WENT WITH ABOUT 200 MAIN FORCE KITES, - MADE A SIGHT WORTH SEEING. TARGET 120-150 MILES INLAND, JUST SOUTH OF RHEIMS, ANTICIPATED SOME JERRY ACTIVITY BUT NONE APART FROM HEAVY FLAK IN TARGET AREA. TARGET IN WOOD, DEPOT FOR FLYING BOMBS, RESULTS APPEARED GOOD, DIFFICULT TO ASSESS DUE TO SMOKE. JUST MANAGED TO WEAVE OUT OF THE WAY OF A STICK OF BOMBS FROM KITE ABOVE. BILL REID V.C. WAS HIT THE SAME WAY AND WAS LOST – SEE NOTES. WEATHER QUITE CLEAR. SPITFIRE ESCORT. ONE PIECE OF FLAK IN AIRCRAFT NOSE, AL (BOMB AIMER) DIDN’T KNOW TILL WE LANDED.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] BILL REID’S AIRCRAFT WAS TO ONE SIDE AND BELOW US AND WAS HIT BEHIND THE TOP TURRET BY A BOMB THAT DID NOT EXPLODE BUT SO DAMAGED THE FUSELAGE THAT IT MOMENTARILY SAGGED, THEN BROKE IN TWO AND SPUN AWAY. MIRACULOUSLY, BILL AND ONE OF HIS CREW SURVIVED. DURING THE LUNCH FOLLOWING THE SQUADRON MEMORIAL DEDICATION IN 1987, BILL TOLD US OF HIS FEELINGS AS HE FELL FROM THE STRICKEN LANCASTER, KNOWING HE HAD WON A FEW POUNDS GAMBLING, (THERE GOES THAT B----- REID) THEY WOULD BE SAYING (TAKING OUR MONEY WITH HIM) A LOVELY CHAP.
[underlined] 5 – 8 – 44 BREST [/underlined]
TOOK OFF 09-45, CLIMBED ON TRACK FOR A CHANGE. WEATHER PERFECT, COUNTRYSIDE LOOKED GRAND, ESPECIALLY IN THE SOUTH WEST. SPITFIRE’S MET US OFF SIDMOUTH. TARGET U-BOAT PENS, DIDN’T FEEL SO HAPPY KNOWING BREST’S REPUTATION FOR FLAK, OVER 80 HEAVY GUNS TO BE SHARED AMONGST SIXTEEN KITES. AS WE RAN IN FLAK BANGED VERY CLOSE, BUT CLEARED FOR BOMBING RUN. GOOD RESULTS, FIVE PENS HIT, REST VERY CLOSE. SAW ONE PARACHUTE FROM KITE THAT WAS LOST, QUEER THING, IT APPEARED TO BE UNDER CONTROL BUT MADE NO EFFORT TO COME HOME. WE HAD FLAK THROUGH THE NOSE AND ONE ENGINE COVER.
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[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] THE AIRCRAFT LOST AT BREST WAS PROBABLY F/LT CHENEY’S, AND BRINCKHILL’S BOOK (THE DAM BUSTERS) HAS A VIVID DESCRIPTION OF WHAT HAPPENED TO IT AFTER RECEIVING DIRECT FLAK SHELLS. THE PILOT AND TWO OTHERS WERE PICKED UP BY A FRENCH FISHING BOAT AND LATER RETURNED TO THE SQUADRON, THE REST WERE NEVER FOUND.
[underlined] 6 – 8 – 44 LORIENT [/underlined]
TOOK OFF ABOUT 18-00, WEATHER AND FLIGHT PLAN AS BEFORE, PROBABLY; SAW AN AIRFIELD BEING SHELLED NEAR TARGET. FLAK STARTED EARLY BUT AT 16,000 FEET WE SEEMED TO BE IN A FREE BELT, AS ABOVE AND BELOW IT WAS VERY THICK. BOMBING RUN GOOD, ALTOGETHER IT DIDN’T APPEAR TO BE SUCH A GOOD EFFORT AS YESTERDAYS, BUT DIFFICULT TO TELL REALLY. HEAVY FLAK FOR A FEW MINUTES OUT OF THE AREA, HIT IN TAILPLANE AND SPINNER, NO KITES LOST. HOPE THERE ARE NO MORE PENS TO HIT, JERRY GETS ANNOYED SOMEWHAT.
[underlined] 9 – 8 – 44 LA PALLICE [/underlined]
TOOK OFF 10-00, WEATHER GOOD. BEING A BIT LATE WE CUT ACROSS COUNTRY, PASSED QUITE CLOSE TO ALDERNEY AND GUERNSEY, EVENTUALLY CAUGHT UP WITH THE REST NEAR FRENCH COAST. WENT NEAR TO LORIENT AND FOLLOWED COAST TO THE TARGET. RAN IN FROM THE SEA, NO FLAK UNTILL BOMB WENT, RESULTS GOOD EXCEPT FOR ONE BOMB THAT WENT A LONG WAY WIDE AND HIT THE HARBOUR WORKS INSTEAD OF THE PENS. FLAK MODERATE, HIT ON ONE SPINNER. QUITEA [sic] LONG TRIP, SAW NO ENEMY FIGHTERS, ESCORT OF MUSTANGS AND SPITFIRES, MOST OF THEM MET US ON THE WAY BACK – HELPFUL; SKIPPER AND ROY’S THIRTIETH TRIP.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] ALTHOUGH AIRCREWS NORMALLY FLEW TOGETHER UNDER ONE PILOT, THERE WERE OCCASIONS WHEN INDIVIDUALS WOULD JOIN OTHER CREWS, AS I DID FOR SEVERAL TRIPS WITH BOB KNIGHTS. THE REASONS WERE MANY, SICKNESS OF ONE MEMBER MIGHT RESULT IN A REPLACEMENT FROM ANOTHER CREW, OR THE VARIOUS TRADES MIGHT BE FARMED OUT TO OTHER CREWS NEEDING TEMPORARY STAFF. ------
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------- THUS DIFFERENT MEMBERS OF THE SAME CREW OFTEN HAD VARYING NUMBERS OF OPERATIONAL SORTIES TO THEIR CREDIT, I SEEM TO REMEMBER THAT ON ARRIVING AT 49 SQUADRON OUR PILOT, JOHN SANDERS, FLEW HIS FIRST FLIGHT OVER GERMANY AS SECOND PILOT, SO HE WAS ONE UP ON THE REST OF US ALREADY; I SUPPOSE THE IDEA WAS TO SEE IF HE LIKED THE EXPERIENCE. . . . THE FIRST TOUR WAS THIRTY OPERATIONS, THE SECOND FIFTEEN.
[underlined] 11 – 8 – 44 LA PALLICE [/underlined]
TOOK OFF ABOUT 11.30, LOAD 6 X 2.000 LD. [sic] ARMOUR PIERCING, DON’T KNOW WHAT USE THESE ARE AGAINST PENS, - OURS NOT TO REASON WHY. ROUTE AS YESTERDAY, AS WAS THE ESCORT. MUCH MORE FLAK ON RUN IN, SAW ONE KITE HIT AND CONTINUE ON THREE ENGINES, HEARD LOTS OF BURSTS, BOMBS WENT DOWN BANG ON TARGET, WE WERE HIT IN THE AIRCRAFT NOSE AND ONE ENGINE, NOTHING SERIOUS. LANDED AT GROVE, SHORT OF PETROL. HOPE THIS TARGET IS FINISHED, FLAK FAR TOO ACCURATE FOR COMFORT,
[underlined] 12 – 8 – 44 BREST [/underlined]
TOOK OFF 07-00 – 12 HOURS AFTER LANDING. WEATHER PRETTY FOUL, TRIED TO CLIMB THROUGH CLOUD, BECAME ICED UP, HAD TO REDUCE TO 11,000 FEET AND CLIMB OVER CHANNEL. ONLY EIGHT KITES ON THE RAID, EXPECTED TO BE SHOT TO HELL, BUT LUCKILY FLAK WAS LIGHTER AND LESS ACCURATE THAN BEFORE, - ONE FLAK SHIP IN THE HARBOUR. PENS APPEARED TO RECEIVE SEVERAL DIRECT HITS, SMOKE POURED FROM GAP IN THE ROOF, SMALL DENT IN SPINNER, NOT BAD TRIP, INTERCOM BETTER THAN YESTERDAY, SO CREW WAS MORE SOCIABLE; SAW NO ESCORT, EXCEPT USUAL MOSQUITO.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] IT SEEMS WE HAD MORE DENTED SPINNERS THAN ANYTHING ELSE, WHICH IS PROBABLY VERY FORTUNATE, CURIOUS REFERENCE TOA [sic] MOSQUITO AS ESCORT, WHEREAS I KNOW VERY WELL IT WAS THE MARKING AIRCRAFT. PERHAPS THE CRACKS WERE BEGINNING TO SHOW.
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[underlined] 13 – 8 – 44 BREST [/underlined]
TOOK OFF 08-30, WEATHER GOOD. TARGET FOR US WAS A SHIP IN THE HARBOUR THAT MIGHT BE USED AS A BLOCKSHIP, OTHERS BOMBED PENS, AND 9 SQUADRON SUPPORTING HAD ANOTHER VESSEL. FLAK; COR! IT WAS HOT, JUST LIKE FIRST TIME TO BREST HIT IN UNDERCARRIAGE AND HYDRAULICS, BEFORE OUR BOMB LOAD (12 X 1.000 POUNDERS) WENT DOWN, BAGS OF HOT OIL AND VAPOUR IN THE NOSE, PANIC FOR A FEW MINUTES; TOMMY’S HARNESS WAS HIT AND THERE WERE OTHER HOLES. SAW ONE KITE GO DOWN, STRAIGHT DOWN AND BURST ON THE SHORE, NASTY, ONE BURST OF FLAK WAS PINK, - GREMLINS GOT ME AT LAST; ALTOGETHER FAR TOO LIVELY FOR MY LIKING.
[underlined] 14 – 8 – 44 BREST [/underlined]
TOOK OFF 08-30, USUAL TIME, WEATHER GOOD. AFTER YESTERDAYS EFFORT FELT LOUSY ON THE WAY ANTICIPATING EVERY SORT OF TROUBLE, THE OLD TUMMY GETS A BIT SORE THINKING OF FLAK THESE DAY’S. TARGET – SHIP IN THE HARBOUR AGAIN, 9 SQUADRON SUPPORTING RAN INTO TARGET IN MORE N.W. DIRECTION – OVER – BAY HEIGHT 16,200 FEET, FLAK BOUNCED US ABOUT A BIT BUT IT WASN’T QUITE SO BAD. PIECES OF FLAK THROUGH JACK’S SCREEN, MID UPPER TURRET AND ONE ENGINE, NOTHING SERIOUS. SAW SEVEN STICKS OF BOMBS GO DOWN, EACH JUST MISSED THE SHIP, HOPE SOMEONE HIT IT OR BACK WE GO ANOTHER DAY. BOMB LOAD 6 X 2,000 POUNDERS, ARMOUR – PIERCING.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] (STICKS) WERE THE ENTIRE BOMB LOAD DROPPED BY EACH AIRCRAFT. IT WAS INFURIATING TO WATCH THE FOUNTAINS OF SPRAY APPEAR AS EACH BOMB HIT THE WATER ON EITHER SIDE OF THE VESSEL. I WONDER IF IT EVER SANK, WE DIDN’T GO TO BREST AGAIN, THANK GOODNESS, (THE SHIP WAS THE GERMAN CRUISER GUEYDON) WE THEN WENT ON TO MORE INTERESTING THINGS. -----
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[underlined] 11 – 9 – 44 KAA FIORD NORWAY (VIA RUSSIA) [/underlined]
THE BIG ONE AGAINST THE GERMAN POCKET BATTLESHIP [underlined] TIRPITZ [/underlined], WHICH HAD SO FAR LED A CHARMED LIFE DESPITE A VARIETY OF ATTACKS BY EVERY – BODY EXCEPT THE ARMY, - AND SURVIVED THE LOT AS THE VESSEL WAS OUT OF RANGE FROM BRITAIN THE PLAN WAS TO FLY TO YAGODNIK, AN ISLAND AIRFIELD UPSTREAM FROM ARCHANGEL, REFUEL, CARRY OUT THE RAID, REFUEL AGAIN IN RUSSIA AND RETURN TO LINCOLNSHIRE. AS ADDITIONAL PETROL HAD TO BE CARRIED THE TOP TURRET WAS REMOVED, TOGETHER WITH MUCH OF THE AMMUNITION FOR THE REAR TURRET, SOME OF THE RADAR AND THE EXHAUST COWS [sic] FROM EACH ENGINE, - WHICH SEEMED RATHER EXTREME AND MAY HAVE BEEN DONE UNDER THE OLD DICTUM THAT EVERY LITTLE HELPS. A 250 GALLON FUEL WAS INSTALLED IN THE FUSELAGE, AND THE LENGTH OF THE TANK NECESSITATED THE DEPARTURE OF THE TOP TURRET. WE CARRIED TWELVE 450 POUND BOMBS – WHICH I HAVE A FEELING WERE A SORT OF SEA MINE – AND OTHERS HAD THE 12,000 POUND “TALLBOY”. THERE WERE TWENTY LANCASTERS FROM 617 AND EIGHTEEN FROM 9 SQUADRON. THE DIARY ENTRY:
TOOK OFF 19-00, HEADED FOR NORWAY AT 2,000 FEET, CLIMBED TO 6,000 FEET AT THE COAST TO CLEAR THE MOUNTAINS, BIT CLOUDY, SAW GLIMPSES OF THE PEAKS AT TIMES. SWEDEN WAS WELL LIGHTED, EVEN SAW NEON SIGNS OCCASIONALLY, SOME FLAK IN ONE AREA, ONE KITE DAMAGED. AS IT BECAME LIGHTER WE DROPPED TO AVOID CLOUD AT 500-1,000 FEET, CROSSED WHITE SEA VERY LOW, LOOKED SOMEWHAT INHOSPITABLE AND COLD. EVENTUALLY FOUND ARCHANGEL IN THE MOUTH OF THE RIVER, AND AFTER SOME SEARCHING CAME ACROSS THE AIRFIELD ON A [sic] ISLAND DOWN STREAM. LANDED ON GRASS WITH BOMBS ON BOARD. QUARTERS IN A OLD RIVER STEAMER, HAD TO CLEAN OUT, WASHING AND SANITARY CONDITIONS LOUSY. MEALS GOOD GENERALLY, PLENTY OF EGGS, BUTTER AND SUGAR. TEA WITHOUT MILK – IN GLASSES – SLIGHTLY SOUR BREAD AND SPAM WILL BE REMEMBERD [sic]; --------;
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----- SWAPPED CIGARETTES FOR CAP BADGES, COINS, PAPER MONEY AND BUTTONS. ENTERTAINED EVERY NIGHT WITH CONCERTS, FILMS AND DANCES. BAND COULD EVEN PLAY (LAMBETH WALK) SAND AND GRASS FIELD, WEATHER SLIGHTLY COLDER THAN AT HOME.
TOOK OFF 09-30 ON SEPTEMBER 15TH LOOSE GAGGLE, 1,000 FEET, ROUTE OVER FINLAND, SWEDEN AND NORWAY, A GOD-FORSAKEN COUNTRYSIDE OF HILLS, RIVERS, TIMBER AND MARSHES. WE LED J.W. FORCE AND CAME IN FROM A DIFFERENT DIRECTION. TO THE MAIN FORCE. SAW SMOKE GENERATORS START UP A FEW MINUTES BEFORE BOMBING, NUISANCE. SAW J.W’S SWINGING DOWN ON PARACHUTES, WEIRD SIGHT, FLAK SCATTERD [sic] AND INACCURATE, SUPRISING [sic] AS WE BOMBED AT 11,000 FEET, NO FIGHTERS. ONE KITE ONLY DAMAGED.
TOOK OFF 19-15 ON THE 16TH TO RETURN HOME. WEATHER DULL, POOR VISIBILITY, 1,500 FEET OVER FINLAND, CLIMED [sic] TO 7,000 OVER SEA AND SWEDEN. DARK NIGHT, SAW SOME AIRFIELDS LIGHTED, OCCASIONAL LIGHT FLAK. BAD WEATHER JUST AFTER LEAVING SWEDEN, HAD TO DROP TO 4,000 FEET TO CLEAR CLOUD AND HEAVY RAIN, OFF TRACK, RAN OVER NORTH DENMARK, SEARCHLIGHTS EVADED BY USING CLOUD COVER, FLAK SHIPS A DARN NUISANCE OFF COAST. CARRIED THREE OF ROSS’S CREW BACK. BET THEY WERE COLD IN THE FUSEELARGE [sic]. GLAD TO SEE ENGLISH SEARCHLIGHTS AND AIRFIELDS AGAIN – AND REAL EGG, BACON AND CHIPS ON RETURN.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] RE READING THE DIARY REMINDS ME OF THE PROFICIENCY OF OUR NAVIGATOR, JAMES BARON, WHO SO SKILLFULLY [sic] GUIDED OUR WAY TO RUSSIA AND BACK, BASICALLY WITH ONLY HIS EXPERTISE, MAP, AND SIX PAIRS OF ANXIOUS EYES TO ASSIST. NO NAVIGATIONAL AIDS IN THAT PART OF THE WORLD, SEVERAL AIRCRAFT FORCE-LANDED IN THE AREA WHEN FUEL RAN OUT IN THEIR VAIN SERCH [sic] FOR THE LANDING FIELD; SO FAR AS I RECALL, NO ONE WAS LOST, THE RUSSIANS BROUGHT THEM ALONG IN VARIOUS ANCIENT LIGHT PLANES AT INTERVALS. THERE IS A PHOTO OF A DOWNED LANCASTER, IT’S 12,000 POUND TALLBOY BOMB HURLED FREE ON LANDING INPACT [sic] AND LAYING FORLORNLY IN THE MUD. A CONSIDERABLE DISTANCE FROM THE AIRCRAFT.
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THE CREWS INVOVLED [sic] WITH THESE CRASHED LANCASTERS CAME HOME IN OTHER AIRCRAFT AND THEIR AIRCRAFT LEFT IN RUSSIA.
THE RUSSIAN FILMS WERE TERRIBLE, LONG AFFAIRS OF CONTINUAL WAR SCENES, AND I SEEM TO RECALL THAT THE ROYAL NAVY CONTINGENT AT ARCHANGEL SENT SOME CARTOONS WHICH CHEERED US UP AND LEFT OUR HOSTS BAFFLED. LIVING AROUND THE AIRFIELD IN VARIOUS PRIMITIVE HUTS WERE SOME OF THE RUSSIAN STAFF, INCLUDING, NO DOUBT, THE LADIES WHO FELL ABOUT IN LAUGHTER WHEN ASKED FOR HOT WATER TO SHAVE WITH – SUCH WESTEN [sic] DECADENCE. THE MEN SPENT MUCH TIME PLAYING CARDS ON THE RIVER BANK. THEIR WIVES ONLY APPEARED WHEN CALLED TO HAVE LARGE TREE TRUNKS, THAT HAD FLOATED DOWN FROM THE URALS, HOISTED ON TO THEIR STURDY SHOULDERS BY THEIR CARING PARTNERS; IT WAS A PEACEFUL SCENE, ONLY DISTURBED BY THE SOUND OF CHOPPING AND SAWING WHILST THE INTERRUPTED CARD GAME CONTINUED. LENIN WOULD SURELY HAVE APPROVED. I JEST A LITTLE, WITHIN THE LIMITATION OF THE TIMES, THE RUSSIANS WE MET WERE GENERALLY KINDLY, GENEROUS HOSTS. THEY BEAT US HANDSOMELY AT FOOTBALL TOO.
THE WAIT FOR SUITABLE WEATHER ACCOUNTED MAINLY FOR THE FEW DAYS THAT PASSED BEFORE ATTACKING THE (TIRPITZ) AND THE TIME WAS PROBABLY USEFUL TO ENABLE SOME AIRCRAFT SERVICING TO BE DONE. I THINK OUR J.W. BOMBS WERE KNOWN FOR SOME REASON AS JOHNNY WALKERS, AND AS DESCRIBED, THEY FLOATED GENTLY DOWN ON PARACHUTES. IF THEY HIT SOMETHING SOLID THEY EXPLODED ON CONTACT, IF THEY FELL INTO THE WATER THEY WOULD SINK ARMED THEM SELVES AND RISE TO THE SURFACE HOPEFULLY DETONATING UNDER A SHIP IF NO TARGET WAS FOUND THEY WOULD SINK AGAIN AND MOVE 30 FEET AND REPEAT.
AT THE TIME OWING TO THE SMOKE SCREEN THE RAID WAS NOT THOUGHT TO HAVE BEEN THAT SUCCESSFUL, BUT LATER IT WAS FOUND THAT TALLBOY NEAR MISSES HAD DAMAGED THE SHIP AND PREVENTED IT FROM RETURNING TO THE SEA.
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THE TAKE-OFF TO RETURN HOME TO ENGLAND WAS AN INTERESTING SIGHT FOR ONLOOKERS, AS REFUELLING HAD TO BE DONE WITH THE ONLY AVAILABLE LOWER OCTANE RATED PETROL SO THERE WAS SOME ENGINE COUGHING AND BANGING AS EACH LANCASTER SPED ALONG THE SO CALLED RUNWAY AND FINALLY STAGGERD [sic] INTO THE AIR.
[underlined] 23 – 9 – 44 DORTMUND-EMS CANAL [/underlined]
NIGHT TRIP AGAIN – DARNED IF I LIKE ‘EM TARGET – AQUEDUCT CARRYING CANAL ACROSS A RIVER, LOAD TALLBOY. HAD FIRST SHAKING WHEN TWO KITES COLLIDED OFF THE COAST; THEN ANTI-RADAR LIGHTS WERE LEFT UNCOVEREDAND [sic] FLASHES ALL ROUND THE TRIP. QUEER THINGS, RED GREEN AND YELLOW FLARES, ENORMOUS FLAK BURSTS, KITES GOING DOWN WITHOUT COMBAT, - NO TRACER USED BY FIGHTERS, I GUESS. SPOT FIRE JUST UNDER CLOUD, HAD SEVERAL TRIES TO BOMB, BUT IT BECAME COVERED JUST BEFORE RELEASE SO WE BROUGHT THE BOMB BACK FELT VERY TIRED AND SHAKEN ON RETURN, CURSE THE DARKNESS.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] I DON’T REALY [sic] RECOLLECT BEING UNDULY DISTURBED ABOUT OPERATIONS, BUT IT SEEMS THERE IS JUST A HINT OF BOTHER WITH MY DESCRIPTION OF THE EVENTS. USUALLY UNSYMPATHETICALLY REFERRED TO AS THE TWITCH, IT WAS QUITE OFTEN EVIDENT IN THE DEMEANOUR OF THOSE IN THEIR THIRD OR FOURTH TOUR.
[underlined] 29 – 10 – 44 KEMS BARRAGE (ON THE RHINE) [/underlined]
TOOK OFF 13-10 PLAN SEVEN KITES TO BOMB AT 7-6,000 FEET, SIX AT [underlined] 600 [/underlined] FEET, WE WERE ONE OF THE SIX, OF COURSE AFTER THE DRAW, MUSTANGS AS ESCORT AND ANTI-FLAK. WE BOMBED FIVE MINUTES AFTER HIGH FORCE, RAN IN TWO ABREAST DROPPING TALLBOY WITH DELAYED ACTION. NOT A LOT OF FLAK, BUT MACHINE GUNS VERY ACCURATE WHICH HIT TWO KITES AFTER BOMBING, THEY HIT THE DECK – HARD, SO ONLY FOUR OUT OF THE SIX MADE IT. MY PERSPEX WAS SHATTERED TWO SPLINTERS IN MY SHOULDER, (NOTHING MUCH) BLAZED AWAY AT FLAK POSTS, VERY HAPPY; AL’S BOMB ZIPPED OVER BARRAGE TOP, GATES FINALLY GAVE AWAY, GOOD JOB.
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[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] THIS WAS A PRE-EMPT EFFORT TO FORESTALL THE GERMANS FROM RELEASING THE PENT UP WATERS OF THE RHINE WHEN ALLIED GROUND FORCES WERE ABOUT TO CROSS. THE EFFECT OF A CONSIDERABLE HEAD OF WATER UPON TEMPORARY BRIDGES MAY BE IMAGINED. DURING A SWISS HOLIDAY IN THE MIDDLE 80’S WE TOOK A VERY FRAGILE BOAT TRIP TO A ROCKY ISLAND IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RHINE FALLS AT SCHAFFHAUSES, WHERE THE VIBRATION GRAPHICALLY DEMONSTRATED THE WEIGHT OF THE WATER FLOWING BY. THE TWO AIRCRAFT THAT WAS SHOT DOWN PILOTED BY (S/L WYNESS AND F/O HOWARD) IT HAS BEEN SAID THAT WYNESS AND HIS CREW MANAGED TO GETOUT [sic] OF THEIR AIRCRAFT AND INTO THE DINGHY TO SAIL DOWN THE RHINE TO GAIN THE SANCTUARY OF THE SWISS BANK BUT WERE SHOT BY THE GERMANS. PILOT JOHN SANDERS WAS AWARDED BAR TO HIS D.F.C.
[underlined] 29 – 10 – 44 TIRPITZ – TROMSO [/underlined]
TOOK OFF FROM LOSSIE MOUTH AT 2 A.M. AND LANDED BACK AT 2-55P.M. – DID I FEEL DONE. CROSSED NORWEGIAN COAST AT DAWN AND FLEW NORTH OVER SWEDEN, LOOKED VERY BLEAK AND COLD HAD TO ORBIT AT RENDEZVOUS, BOTH SQUADRONS WENT ON TO THE TARGET, BECAME VERY HAZY EVEN AT 15,000 FEET WITH 7-6/10’S CLOUD BELOW, SHIP HARD TO FIND, AL FINALLY BOMBED ON FOURTH RUN. BAGS OF FLAK, BUT VERY INACCURATE, ONE KITE HIT BADLY, LANDED IN SWEDEN. TERRIBLE STOOGE HOME, SAW NO LAND FOR FOUR HOURS, - HAD 16 HOURS SLEEP AT LOSSIE.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] THE VESSEL WAS MOVED SOUTHWARDS TO TROMSO AFTER THE SEPTEMBER ATTACK, POSSIBLY BECAUSE OF THE DAMAGED [sic] RECEIVED THIS PUT IT IN THE RANGE FROM LOSSIEMOUTH, AGAIN WITH LONG-RANGE FUEL TANKS. THE CLOUD PREVENTED ACCURATE BOMB-AIMING AND THE ‘TIRPITZ’ SURVIVED ONCE MORE, - BUT NEMESIS DREW NIGH; A SOME WHAT COMIC ASPECT OF THE LONG SEA CROSSING BACK WAS THE REASSURANCE GIVEN AT BRIEFING THAT ROYAL NAVY DESROYERS [sic] WOULD BE ON OUR RETURN ROUTE SHOULD ANY NEED TO PUT DOWN IN THE WATER ARISE. ------
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------ BY 1944 THE R.N. HAD QUITE PROPERLY DEVELOPED ITCHY GUN FINGERS WHERE AIRCRAFT WERE CONCERNED, PARTICULARLY IF THEY GAVE NO REGOGNITION [sic] SIGNALS. THUS WE WERE RATHER ALARMED TO FIND OURSELVES BEARING DOWN ON THIS MENACING LOOMING SHIP WITH AL IN THE NOSE FRANTICALLY DIGGING AROUND FOR THE COLOURS-OF-THE-DAY CARTRIDGES TO PUT IN HIS VERY PISTOL. I’M NOT SURE IF WE WERE ACTUALLY FIRED UPON, BUT CERTAINLY THE COLOURS WENT UP A TRIFLE LATE. ONE CAN IMAGINE THE IRATE OFFICER-OF-THE-WATCH DOWN THERE FUMING ‘THAT SHOWER’ UP THERE.
[underlined] NOVEMBER 1944 [/underlined]
MY LOG BOOK FOR THIS MONTH SHOWS ONLY A TRIP TO LOSSIEMOUTH FOR ANOTHER GO AT THE ‘TIRPITZ’, BUT THE WEATHER FORECAST WAS SUCH THAT WE RETURNED TO WOODHALL THE NEXT DAY.
MORE IMPORTANTLY, AN UN-DATED NOTE IS ADDED THAT MUST HAVE BEEN WRITTEN IN JANUARY 1945:- “BROKE MY FINGER WHILST TRYING TO FIX AN ESCAPE HATCH DURING NIGHT PRACTICE BOMBING – CLOT!! WENT U/S UNTILL AFTER CHRISTMAS. ROY AND AL MEANWHILE FINISHED THEIR SECOND TOUR, DIDN’T SEE AL AGAIN. LUCKILY MANAGED TO GET BACK WITH SANDY AND REMAINDER OF THE CREW.
NIGHT BOMBING PRACTICE AT WAINFLEET WAS NOT A FAVOURITE PASTIME, SO I DOUBT ANYONE REGRETTED THE EARLY RETURN ARISING FROM MY MISHAP. I CHERISH THE MEMORY OF OUR CAPTAIN SPEEDILY CALLING FOR AN AMBULANCE TO MEET US ON LANDING, AND HIS INSISTENCE ON HALF CARRYING ME DOWN THE AIRCRAFT LADDER TO THE GROUND. BEING A VERY FORTUNATE CREW, THIS WAS ABOUT THE WORST THING THAT HAPPENED TO US IN ALL THE TIME WE FLEW TOGETHER ON OPERATIONS.
THUS I DID NOT JOIN THE FINAL ATTACK ON THE “TIRPITZ” ON 29TH OF NOVEMBER, WHEN THE VESSEL CAPSIZED FOLLOWING DIRECT HITS WITH TALLBOY 12,000 POUND BOMBS; INSTEAD ROY MACHIN HAD A VIEW OF THE AFFAIR FROM THE TAIL RATHER THAN HIS ACCUSTOMED POSITION IN THE TOP TURRET. ONE OF THE MINOR MYSTERIES IS WHY NO ENEMY FIGHTERS APPEARED DURING THE LAST TWO RAIDS, WHEN IN NORWAY.
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[underlined] 3 – 2 – 45 PORTESHAVEN (HOLLAND) [/underlined]
TOOK OFF 14-00, TARGET MIDGET U-BOAT PENS. WEATHER CLEAR, HEIGHT 14,000 FEET. OVERCOAST [sic] SAW WALCHEREN ISLAND, NEARLY ALL FLOODED, TERRIBLE DEVASTATION. LONG RUN UP TO TARGET AND JUST BEFORE BOMB WENT FLAK WAS VERY ACCURATE THO’ NOT PARTICULARLY HEAVY. WE BOMBED SECOND AND I SAW THE REST OF THE EFFORT, WHICH EXCEPT FOR THREE WIDE THE REST WAS DEAD ON. P.R.L. COVER DETERMINED THAT THE WHOLE STRUCTURE HAD COLLAPSED. IT HAD FIFTEEN HOLES.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] P.R.L. WAS THE PHOTO RECONNAISSANCE UNIT, OFTEN FLYING MOSQUITOES, SOMETIMES SPITFIRES, USUALLY ALONE – DODGY IN DAYLIGHT.
[underlined] 6 – 2 – 45 BIELEFELD VIADUCT (GERMANY) [/underlined]
ON THIS THE LONGEST TRIP INTO THE REICH, WE DEFINITELY EXPECTED BANDITS, SO GAGGLE WAS TIGHTENED AND ALTOGETHER WE HAD TEN SQUADRONS OF SPITFIRES AND MUSTANGS AS COVER, - VERY NICE FOR SEVENTEEN KITES; SOME HEAVY FLAK AT AACHEN AND COOLENZ, OTHERWISE NONE. 10/10 CLOUD COVER MOST OF THE ROUTE, SAW NO BOMBING. VERY SURPRISED AT NO LUFTWAFFE – AND RELIEVED. SKY WAS FULL OF OUR COVER, AND YANKS WERE VERY ACTIVE WITH HEAVY STUFF.
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] BY 1944 THE AMERICAN AIRFORCE (U.S.A.A.F.) WERE WELL USED TO FORMATION FLYING NECESSITATED BY THEIR BOMBING TECHNIQUES, AND THE MUTUAL COVER AGAINST THE LUFTWAFFE. APART FROM INITIAL DISASTROUS DAYLIGHT SORTIES IN THE EARLY DAYS OF THE WAR, BOMBER COMMAND IN EUROPE LARGELY RESORTED TO NIGHT RAIDS UNTILL D-DAY IN 1944. THEN THE (GAGGLE) WAS THOUGHT UP AS A LOOSE FORMATION TO GIVE SOME PROTECTION AGAINST FIGHTERS WHILST STILL RETAINING EACH BOMB-AIMERS DESCRIPTION AS TO THE MOMENT OF RELEASE. HOWEVER, I FEEL THE WORTHY INTENTION WAS DIMINISHED BY THE RESULT IN THE AIR, AS AFTER YEARS OF INDIVIDUAL FLYING IN THE DARK THE DISCIPLINE-AND WILL-NEEDED TO KEEP IN CLOSE FORMATION WAS JUST NOT THERE AND WE TENDED TO JUST TRUNDLE ALONG FAIRLY NEAR TO ONE ANOTHER; ------
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------ AS IT HAPPENED IT DID NOT MAKE ANY DIFFERENCE ON THE DAYLIGHT TRIPS I FLEW ON. THERE IS NOT MUCH DOUBT IN MY MIND, HOWEVER, THAT AN ATTACK ON US BY THE LUFTWAFFE WOULD HAVE HAD SERIOUS CONSEQUENCES BEFORE OUR ESCORT COULD HAVE GOT AMONGST THEM. BOTH GERMANS AND AMERICANS FOUND THAT EFFECTIVE DEFENCE OF BOMBERS BY FIGHTERS IS MOST DIFFICULT TO ACHIEVE AGAINST DETERMINED ATTACKS, SOME WILL ALWAYS SUCCEED.
[underlined] 6 – 2 – 45 IJMUIDEN (HOLLAND) [/underlined]
TOOK OFF 06-00 UNDER DULL HIGH CLOUD THAT PERSISTED WAY TO THE TARGET, SAW BAGS OF LIBERATORS FORMING UP ON THE WAY OUT. SPITFIRE ESCORT MET US OFF THE COAST. BOMBING RUN SEEMED PLAIN STUPID; INSTEAD OF RUNNING IN FROM THE SEA WE CIRCLED IN LAND, NEAR AMSTERDAM, AND HAD A LONG RUN UP TO TARGET IN HEAVY FLAK AREA. JACK LED GAGGLE AND DID THEY PASTE US, FOR JUST OVER TWO MINUTES WERE CONTINUALLY PREDICTED, - NEVER FELT AND HEARD SO MUCH. U-BOAT PENS WERE HIT,
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined] NOW WE ARE CRITICISING ROUTEING[sic] – EVERYONE IS AN EXPERT AFTER TWO TOURS, THIS WAS THE LAST OPERATIONAL TRIP FOR ME. DURING RAIDS INVOLVING MANY AIRCRAFT FLAK WAS GENERALLY INDISCRIMINATE, BUT WHEN ONLY TWENTY OR THIRTY WERE OVERHEAD IT WAS POSSIBLE FOR THE DEFENCES TO FOCUS ON ONE BY RADAR AND (PREDICT) ITS COURSE AND FIRE ACCORDINGLY. FLAK BATTERIES WERE OFTEN IN FOURS, AND OCCASIONALLY ONE COULD SEE SUCCESSIVE BURSTS FOLLOWING BEHIND, EVEN WHEN TURNING. I NOTICED THIS PARTICULARLY DURING THE OCTOBER (TIRPITZ) RAID AS WELL AS THIS ONE. NOT A LOT COULD USEFULLY BE DONE – EXCEPT HOPE – IF ON THE BOMB RUN; EVENTUALLY, OF COURSE, WE FLEW OUT OF RANGE, OR THEY SELECTED ANOTHER LUCKY LOT FOR ATTENTION.
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[underlined] POSTSCRIPT [/underlined]
TO FORESTALL ANY BRIGHT SPARK WHO MAY HAVE COUNTED ONLY FORTY OPERATIONS IN THE DIARY, THERE WERE FIVE OTHER TRIPS MENTIONED BUT NOT DESCRIBED AS EACH TIME THE TARGET WAS NOT BOMBED DUE, TO CLOUD AT THE CRUCIAL POINT, FOUR WERE ‘V’ BOMB SITES IN NORTHERN FRANCE, THE OTHER LA PALLICE AGAINST U-BOAT PENS TO MY SURPRISE, AND NO DOUBT PLEASURE, THESE WERE INCLUDED IN THE TOTAL FOR TWO TOURS OF OPERATIONS, THAT IS FORTY FIVE TRIPS. THE ‘V’ WEAPONS WERE FIRSTLY SELF PROPELLED FLYING BOMBS DIRECTED AT LONDON, AND SECONDLY ROCKET PROPELLED MISSILES LAUNCHED FROM HOLLAND THAT FELL UPON THE CITY WITHOUT WARNING. FORTUNATELY THIS ALL STARTED AROUND THE SUMMER OF 1944, SO THE LAUNCH SITES WERE PROGRESSIVELY OVER RUN AS THE ALLIED LAND ARMIES MOVED EASTWARDS FROM NORMANDY LATER IN THE YEAR.
ONE MUST OBSERVE THAT AS A CREW WE WERE QUITE FORTUNATE, FOR I CANNOT RECALL ANYONE BEING HURT, NEITHER WERE THERE MANY DISAGREEMENTS. THE ONLY ONE OF THE LATTER THAT COMES TO MIND WAS AN ALTERCATION THAT AROSE WHILST WAITING AROUND OUTSIDE THE AIRCRAFT AS TO THE MERITS OF THE FLIGHT SANDWICHES ISSUED FROM THE OFFICERS PALACE AT THE PETWOOD HOTEL (OFFICERS MESS) COMPARED TO THOSE FROM THE SERGEANTS MESS; IMPORTANT MATTERS SUCH AS THIS COULD HAVE AFFECTED THE WHOLE COURSE OF THE WAR.
TO COMMENT ON LUCK, THERE IS A STORY OF THE BOMB-AIMER’S PARACHUTE HARNESS. WE WERE SETTLING DOWN AT DISPERSAL AWAITING TAXI CLEARANCE WHEN AN AGONISED CRY CAME FROM AL IN THE NOSE – I’VE FORGOT MY PARACHUTE HARNESS, JACK; MUCH HEAVY BREATHING FROM OUR ESTEEMED PILOT BRFORE [sic] HE GROUND OUT “YOU’D BETTER HURRY AND GET IT THEN” OR WORDS TO THAT EFFECT. WITH INTEREST I WATCHED AL LEAP OUT, GRAB ONE OF THE GROUND CREW’S BIKES AND VANISH IN THE DIRECTION OF THE LOCKER ROOM, HEAD DOWN, PEDALLING FURIOUSLY. ------
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------ MEANWHILE, IN THE COCKPIT THE CAPTAIN AND ENGINEER WERE DECIDING TO SWITCH OFF THE ENGINES AS THEY WOULD OVERHEAT QUITE QUICKLY WHILST IDLING DUE TO THE LACK OF AIR PASSING THROUGH THE RADIATORS FROM THE PROPELLERS. WHEN AL REAPPEARED FULLY KITTED AND BREATHLESS, THE ENGINES WERE RE-STARTED. ONE, HOWEVER, STUTTERD [sic] BANGED AND BELCHED BLUE SMOKE, RAN VERY ROUGHLY FOR A FEW SECONDS AND FINALLY STOPPED WITH A SHUDDER THAT SHOOK THE WHOLE AIRCRAFT. SO WE ALL CLAMBERED OUT AND JOINED THE GROUND CREW CLUSTED [sic] UNDER THE OFFENDING ENGINE, ONE STILL HOPEFULLY CLUTCHING A FIRE EXTINGUISHER, SOME STAGING WAS PUSHED INTO PLACE AND A FITTER REMOVED THE COWLING AND LOOKED INTO THE WORKS. “T’ARIN’T ARF A MESS” HE INFORMED THE THRONG, “RECKIN IT’S THE CYLINDER HEAD, THERE’S BITS AND PIECES EVERYWHERE”. THUS, IT SEEMS, OUR LUCK HELD AGAIN WHO KNOWS, BUT FOR THE DELAY, WHETHER THAT ENGINE MIGHT HAVE FAILED ON TAKR-OFF [sic], AND WE HAD A 12,000 LB BOMB ON ABOARD.
SO THERE IT IS. ON COMPLETION OF THE TOURS I WAS SOON POSTED AWAY TO BECOME THE SHIFT NCO I/C THE PARACHUTE STORE AT WOOLFOX LODGE, AND WHERE THAT WAS I NOW HAVE NO IDEA. HOWEVER, WHILST THERE I HAD MY LAST FLIGHT IN A LANCASTER ON THE 20TH OF JUNE 1945, STANDING BEHIND THE PILOT ON A SIGHT SEEING TRIP OVER GERMANY IN DAYLIGHT. NO FIGHTERS, NO FLAX [sic] JUST GHASTLY DEVASTATION IN THE RHUR DOWN AS FAR AS COLOGNE AND EASTWARDS TO DORTMUND. WHICH REMINDS THAT ONLY A FEW WEEKS AGO WE WERE IN THE STATION AREA OF DORTMUND, WHERE EVEN THE TAXIS ARE MERCEDES BENZ REFLECTING THE GENERAL WEALTH. BARMY, AIN’T IT.
IN DECEMBER 1945 I MANAGED TO GET ON AN AIRFIELD CONTROL COURSE AT WATCHFIELD, NEAR SHRIVENHAM. HERE WE OCCASIONALLY FLEW IN ANSON AIRCRAFT, THE SAME AS AT GUNNERY SCHOOL SEEMINGLY SO MANY YEARS AGO. NOTHING HAD CHANGED, THE UNDERCARRIAGE STILL HAD TO BE WOUND UP AND DOWN BY HAND. HAVING SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED THE COURSE IN THE NEW YEAR, I WAS POSTED TO WELFORD, NEAR NEWBURY.
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WE WERE MARRIED AT THIS TIME SO I WAS ABLE TO COMMUTE FOR A WHILE VIA THE LAMBOURN VALLY [sic] RAILWAY AND PUSHBIKE. THE JOB AT WELFORD WAS LARGELY IN THE RUNWAY CARAVAN WHERE ONE IMPORTANTLY FLASHED LIGHJTS [sic] AND FIRED FLARES WHILST HOPEFULLY CONTROLLING AIRCRAFT MOVEMENTS. ACCORDING TO THE SHIFT ONE WAS ON RATIONS WERE SENT OUT TO BE COOKED ON AN OLD PRIMUS STOVE, AND WHEN THE WEATHER WAS KIND IT WAS ALL SORT OF IDYLLIC, MUNCHING ON A BACON SANDWICH WITH A POT OF STRONG TEA HANDY, OBSERVING THE WILD LIFE ALL AROUND BEFORE THE FIRST AIRCRAFT TO LAND OR TAKE OFF DISTURBED THEM. INEVITABLY THIS COULD NOT LAST, AS WELFORD WAS BEING LESS AND LESS USED, AND SO I WAS SENT AWAY AGAIN, FIRST TO DISHFORTH IN YORKSHIRE AND FINALLY TO TERN HILL IN SHROPSHIRE. HERE I RECALL ENDLESS HOURS IN THE CONTROL TOWER LOGGING TRAINING HARVARD AIRCRAFT MOVEMENTS. ONE HAD TO BE SURE THE NUMBERS THAT WENT OUT BALANCED THOSE THAT LANDED, OTHERWISE A GREAT FLAP AROSE, FOR WENLOCK EDGE AND THE WREKIN SEEMED TO ATTRACT THE UNWISE ATTENTION OF THE TYRO PILOTS.
EVENTUALLY THE R.A.F. AND I PARTED IN AUGUST 1946, WITH ME SENT TO OLYMPIA TO FIND A CIVVY SUIT. MY PARENTS HAD A FLAT AT POLPERRO AT THIS TIME, SO SYLVIA AND I WERE ABLE TO SOAK UP THE SUN IN THIS UNSPOILED VILLAGE BEFORE RETURNING TO NEWBURY AND WORK.
[underlined] WAS IT ALL WORTH IT; --- [/underlined] WELL, IT HAD TO BE, DIDN’T IT, AS I COME OUT UNSCATHED. AN ADVENTURE TO BE SURE, WITH GRAND AQUAINTANCES [sic] MET ON THE WAY. WITH OUR COMBINED GRATUITY WE BOUGHT SOME LAND ON WHICH OUR FIRST HOME WAS BUILT – BUT THAT’S ANOTHER STORY ----
RALPH BRIARS
BOURNMOUTH
1989
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
Rear view - Ralph Briars memoir
Description
An account of the resource
Starts with tribute to crew and has colour photograph of a 617 Squadron Lancaster over Lincoln. Writes of his joining the RAF, selection as an air gunner and his basic training. Goes on with description of gunnery training, before going to OTU at RAF Cottesmore where he crewed (describes crew) up while training on Wellington. Carries on with description of heavy conversion unit flying Halifax and Lancaster. Provides description of turrets in both types. Provides a long description of a night sorties and discusses the level of training in the RAF for aircrew as well as problem of collisions. He is finally posted to become operational on 49 Squadron at RAF Fiskerton. He then provides a very detailed diary of the 14 operations he carried out on 49 Squadron followed by the 25 he carried out after the crew were posted to 617 Squadron. These sorties included the Saumur tunnel, V1 and V2 sites, the Tirpitz, Dortmund Ems canal and the Bielefeld viaduct. He concludes with some more anecdotes and his activities after he finished operational flying including getting married.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
R Briars
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1989
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Thirty-nine page printed document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Text. Diary
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SBriarsRA1299161v1
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
England--London
England--Yorkshire
Scotland--Inverness-shire
Scotland--Inverness
England--Rutland
England--Leicestershire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Nottingham
Poland
Poland--Szczecin
Germany
Germany--Braunschweig
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Magdeburg
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Schweinfurt
Germany--Augsburg
Germany--Nuremberg
France
France--Paris
Italy
Italy--Milan
France--Normandy
France--Saumur
France--Le Havre
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
France--Saint-Omer (Pas-de-Calais)
France--Brest
France--Lorient
France--Creil
France--La Rochelle
Norway
Norway--Alta
Norway--Tromsø
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Netherlands
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Germany--Bielefeld
France--Tarbes
England--Hampshire
England--Bournemouth
France--Reims
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-01-06
1944-01-14
1944-01-20
1944-01-21
1944-01-27
1944-01-29
1944-02-15
1944-02-19
1944-02-20
1944-02-24
1944-02-25
1944-03-10
1944-03-15
1944-03-30
1944-04-18
1944-04-20
1944-04-22
1944-04-24
1944-06-06
1944-06-08
1944-06-14
1944-06-15
1944-06-19
1944-07-04
1944-07-17
1944-07-25
1944-07-31
1944-08-05
1944-08-06
1944-08-09
1944-08-11
1944-08-12
1944-08-13
1944-08-14
1944-09-11
1944-09-23
1944-10-29
1945-02-03
1945-03-02
1945-02-06
1944-03-31
1944-06-16
1944-07-05
1944-04-19
1944-06-09
1944-06-05
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
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Steve Christian
Steve Baldwin
1661 HCU
49 Squadron
617 Squadron
air gunner
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
bombing of the Boulogne E-boats (15/16 June 1944)
bombing of the Creil/St Leu d’Esserent V-1 storage areas (4/5 July 1944)
bombing of the Juvisy, Noisy-le-Sec and Le Bourget railways (18/19 April 1944)
bombing of the Le Havre E-boat pens (14/15 June 1944)
Bombing of the Saumur tunnel (8/9 June 1944)
bombing of the Watten V-2 site (19 June 1944)
control caravan
control tower
Cook’s tour
crewing up
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
Halifax
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Mk 2
Me 109
mid-air collision
Mosquito
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Normandy deception operations (5/6 June 1944)
Operational Training Unit
RAF Cottesmore
RAF Dalcross
RAF Fiskerton
RAF Husbands Bosworth
RAF Linton on Ouse
RAF Market Harborough
RAF Winthorpe
RAF Woodhall Spa
Scarecrow
searchlight
service vehicle
Tallboy
Tirpitz
training
V-weapon
Wellington
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1576/26032/LDentonDH1256316v1.1.pdf
5f6ad53a1df10feca9618224205170b6
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
Denton, Dennis Hugh
D H Denton
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
2020-01-14
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
Denton, DH
Description
An account of the resource
59 items. The collection concerns Dennis Hugh Denton (b. 1920, 1256316 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, album and photographs. He flew 62 daylight operations with 21 and 226 Squadrons.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Angela Sadler and Pamela Hickson and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
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
Dennis Denton's log book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LDentonDH1256316v1
Description
An account of the resource
Flying log book for Dennis Denton covering the period from 3 May 1941 to 8 March 1945. Detailing his flying training and operations flown. Includes a map of part of France including the Vitry area, his Gunnery Course results, Certificates and Proficiency Assessment, the Battle Order of 226 Sqdn as at 21 September 1944 and his aircraft being hit by anti-aircraft fire. He was stationed at RAF Yatesbury (2 Signals School), RAF Evanton (8 BGS), RAF Upwood (17 OTU), RAF Watton, RAF Oulton (139 Squadron); RAF Methwold (21 Squadron), RAF West Raynham (1428 Flt), RAF Bicester (13 OTU), RAF Swanton Morley (2 GSU), RAF Hartfordbridge (226 Squadron) and Vitry-en-Artois. Aircraft flown were Dominie, Proctor, Botha, Whitley, Anson, Blenheim, Bisley, Ventura, Defiant, Mitchell, Master, Dakota. He did two tours and flew 62 daylight operations with 21 and 226 Squadrons. Targets were IJmuiden, Morlaix, St Omer, Courtrai, Abbeville, Den Helder, Dunkirk, Rotterdam, St Briac, Cherbourg, Zeebrugge, Yainville, Poix, Floret d’Eperlecques, Floret d’Headine, Boulogne, Clermont, Rouen, Bergen op Zoom, Calais, Arnheim, Breskens, Amersfoort, Cadzand, Roermond, Deventer, Dunkirk, Wesel, Geemund, Duisburg, St Vith, Meppen, Neersbroich, Rees, Wegberg, Uden, Rheinberg, Xanten, The Hague. <span>His pilots on operations were </span>Sergeant Bellis, Wing Commander Kerr, Wing Commander Wood and Squadron Leader Edmond.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
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.
Belgium
France
Germany
Great Britain
Netherlands
Belgium--Saint-Vith
Belgium--Zeebrugge
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Hampshire
England--Norfolk
England--Oxfordshire
England--Wiltshire
France--Abbeville
France--Calais
France--Cherbourg
France--Clermont-Ferrand
France--Dunkerque
France--Watten
France--Morlaix
France--Poix-du-Nord
France--Rouen
France--Saint-Briac-sur-Mer
France--Vitry-en-Artois
France--Yainville
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Meppen
Germany--Rees
Germany--Rheinberg
Germany--Wegberg
Germany--Xanten
Netherlands--Amersfoort
Netherlands--Bergen op Zoom
Netherlands--Breskens
Netherlands--Den Helder
Netherlands--Deventer
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Netherlands--Roermond
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Netherlands--Uden
Scotland--Ross and Cromarty
Belgium--Kortrijk
France--Saint-Omer (Pas-de-Calais)
Germany--Wesel (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Netherlands--Hague
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
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
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Mike French
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1943-01-09
1943-01-22
1943-01-26
1943-01-29
1943-02-02
1943-02-03
1943-02-13
1943-02-17
1943-02-19
1943-02-26
1943-02-27
1943-03-29
1943-04-04
1943-04-15
1943-04-20
1943-04-21
1943-05-17
1943-05-24
1943-05-29
1943-06-11
1943-06-22
1943-06-24
1943-07-27
1943-07-29
1943-08-12
1943-08-30
1943-08-31
1943-09-02
1943-09-03
1943-09-04
1943-09-06
1943-09-08
1943-09-09
1944-08-25
1944-08-26
1944-08-28
1944-09-08
1944-09-09
1944-09-12
1944-09-13
1944-09-14
1944-09-15
1944-09-21
1944-09-23
1944-09-25
1944-09-26
1944-10-06
1944-10-13
1944-10-15
1944-10-24
1944-11-11
1944-11-15
1944-11-29
1944-12-02
1944-12-05
1944-12-24
1945-01-01
1945-01-05
1945-02-22
1945-02-23
1945-02-24
1945-02-25
1945-02-26
1945-02-28
1945-03-01
1945-03-03
13 OTU
139 Squadron
17 OTU
2 Group
21 Squadron
226 Squadron
air gunner
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
B-25
Blenheim
Botha
C-47
Defiant
Dominie
Operational Training Unit
Proctor
RAF Bicester
RAF Evanton
RAF Hartford Bridge
RAF Methwold
RAF Oulton
RAF Swanton Morley
RAF Upwood
RAF Watton
RAF West Raynham
RAF Yatesbury
training
Ventura
Whitley
wireless operator / air gunner
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1391/24703/MDunmoreG635201-160526-03.1.pdf
66e9cdc7b6b0f6706fc2113aa115abfb
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
Dunmore, George
G Dunmore
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
2017-05-26
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
Dunmore, G
Description
An account of the resource
17 Items concerning Flight Lieutenant George Dunmore DFM (5601) who flew 45 operations as a flight engineer on Lancaster with 83 Squadron at RAF Scampton and then as part of the Pathfinder Force at RAF Wyton. Commissioned in 1944 he continued to serve in the general duties branch as flight engineer and then equipment branch until 1967. The collection contains his logbook, an account of a maximum effort operation, official documents and letters, a history of an individual aircraft, pathfinder certificate, recommendation for DFM, career notes as well as photographs and memorabilia. A sub-collection of 58 photographs of aircraft under repair or being manufactured in factories.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Louise Dunmore and catalogued by Nigel Huckins
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
OPERATIONAL HISTORY OF [underlined] AVRO LANCASTER IB R5868 MERLIN XX [/underlined]
29 Jun 42 Joined No 83 Squadron RAF Scampton – a/c letter “Q”
[underlined] OPERATIONAL FLYING WITH 83 SQUADRON [/underlined]
[list headings] [underlined] Date [/underlined] [underlined] Pilot [/underlined] [underlined] Target [/underlined] [underlined] Hrs Mins [/underlined]
[list] 8/9 Jul 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC Wilhelmshaven 1,260 x 4 IB 4 13 [space] 11 Jul 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC Danzig 5 x 1,000 10 5 Daylight. 14/15 Jul 42 P/O J.E.Partridge Bordeaux Mining 1 x 22 1 x 14 1 x 13 set 6 1 x 22 7 40 [space] 18 Jul 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC Essen – Krupps Works 6 x 1,000 4 0 Daylight. 19/20 Jul 42 F/Sgt Calvert D. Vegesack 6 x 1,000 6 0 [space] 21/22 Jul 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Duisburg 112 x 30 IB 3 41 [space] 25/26 Jul 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Duisburg 1 x 4,000 6 x 500 2 x 250 3 32 [space] 26/27 Jul 42 P/O J.E Partridge DFC* Hamburg 1,260 x 4 IB 5 8 Holed in port wing on way out by flak ships. 5/6 Aug 42 W/C D.Crighton-Biggie Mining in Gironde River 22 – 13 set 2 13 set 6 44 – 13 set 1 7 14 Slight flak damage. 6/7 Aug 42 P/O J.Marchant Duisburg 1 x 4,000 900 x 4 IB 4 3 [space]
-1-
[page break]
[list headings] [underlined] Date [/underlined] [underlined] Pilot [/underlined] [underlined] Target [/underlined] [underlined] Hrs Mins [/underlined]
[list] 9/10 Aug 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Osnabruck 1 x 4,000 900 x 4 IB 3 57 Alternative target. 10/11 Aug 42 P/O J.Hodgson Mainz 1 x 4,000 8 x 30 IB 5 38 [space] 18/19 Aug 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Flenxburg 14 x 4 Flares 5 5 PFF. No attack. 24/25 Aug 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Frankfurt 112 x 30 IB 5 45 [space] 8/9 Sep 42 F/Sgt Jackson L.T. Frankfurt 6 x 4 Flares 8 x 250 IB 5 24 No attack. Flares dropped but cloud and haze plus intercom failure prevented bombing. 13/14 Sep 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Bremen 1 x 4,000 6 x 4 Flares 4 24 [space] 14/15 Sep 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Wilhelmshaven 6 x 4 Flares 8 x 250 IB 4 6 W/Op wounded by frire from another 4-engined twin fin a/c overtaken on return flight over the sea! 2/3 Oct 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Krefeld 4 x 7 Flares 10 x 250 inc 3 40 [space] 5/6 Oct 42 F/Lt J.E.Partridge DFC* Aachen 8 x 4 Flares 2 x 7 Flares 1 x 4,000 HC 5 45 No attack. Weather u/s. 2 x 4 flares dropped, remainder brought back. 6/7 Oct 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Osnabruck 1 x 4,000 HC 9 x 4 Flares 1 x 4 Flares 4 25 [space] 13/14 Oct 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Genoa 10 x 4 Flares 6 Flares internally 1 x 4,000 HC 9 20 Landed at Mildenhall (weather).
-2-
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[list headings] [underlined] Date [/underlined] [underlined] Pilot [/underlined] [underlined] Target [/underlined] [underlined] Hrs Mins [/underlined]
[list] 7/8 Nov 42 S/L J.K.M.Cooke DFC Genoa 10 x 4 Flares 6 Flares loose 1 x 4,000 HC 7 10 [space] 9/10 Nov 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Hamburg 9 x 4 Flares 1 x 3 whole and ! green with stars 1 x 4,000 HC 5 0 [space] 13/14 Nov 42 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Genoa 9 x 4 White 3 x 1,000 RDX 7 55 [space] 15/16 Nov 42 P/O R.N.H.Williams DFM Genoa 9 x 4 Flares 3 x 1,000 GP 7 20 [space] 29/30 Nov 42 Sgt Partridge H.A. Turin 1 x 4,000 gel 4 x 500 GP 7 25 [space] 2/3 Dec 42 P/O J.Marchant Frankfurt 10 x 250 inc 1 x 4,000 gel 5 55 [space] 21/22 Dec 42 F/Lt J.Hodgson DFC Munich 1 x 4,000 gel 7 07 [space] 15/16 Jan 43 S/L R.L.Hilton DFC* Berlin 1 x 4 Green 1 x 4 White 6 T.I. Red 6 T.I. inc 1 Red Flare int 7 20 No attack claimed. Flares brought back except 1 x 4 White. 11/12 Feb 43 F/Sgt Partridge H.A. Wilhelmshaven 6 x 4 White Flares 3 T.I. Green 1 x 4,000 HC 3 x 500 GP 5 23 Flares and T.I.s brought back as instructed. 13/14 Feb 43 F/Sgt Partridge H.A. Lorient 6 x 4 White Flares 4 T.I. Green 1 x 4,000 gel 4 40 [space] 14/15 Feb 43 S/L J.K.M.Cooke DFC Milan 9 x 4 White Flares 1 x 4 Red Flares 2 T.I. Red 1 Green Flare 1 x 4,000 HC 7 35 9 x 4 Flares brought back.
-3-
[page break
[list headings] [underlined] Date [/underlined] [underlined] Pilot [/underlined] [underlined] Target [/underlined] [underlined] Hrs Mins [/underlined]
[list] 16/17 Feb 43 S/L S.Robinson DFM Lorient 8 x 4 White 4 T.I. Red 1 x 4,000 HC 4 22 Bomb sight u/s. 18/19 Feb 43 F/O F.J.Garvey Wilhelmshaven 1 x 4,000 gel 12 x 8 x 30 inc 4 22 Rear turret u/s for 3/4 of trip. 19/20 Feb 43 W/C R.L.Hilton DFC* Wilhelmshaven 4 T.I. Red 6 x 500 GP 4 07 [space] 25/26 Feb 43 F/O F.J.Garvey Nurnberg 1 x 4,000 gel 10 x 8 x 30 inc 6 24 [space] 26/27 Feb 43 F/O F.J.Garvey Cologne 1 x 4,000 HC 12 x 8 x 30 inc 3 24 Dropped but bombing circuit u/s – bomb doors damaged by bombs falling on them. 28/1 Mar 43 P/O U.S.Moore DFM St Nazaire 8 x 4 White 4 T.I. Green 1 x 4,000 HC 4 34 [space] ½ Mar 43 P/O U.S.Moore DFM Berlin 4 T.I. Green 1 T.I. Yellow 1 x 4,000 HC 6 15 Minor flak damage. 8/9 Mar 43 F/O F.J.Garvey Nuremburg 2 x T.I. Yellow 2 x T.I. Green 1 x 4,000 HC 8 x 8 x 30 inc 6 47 [space] 11/12 Mar 43 F/O F.J.Garvey Stuttgart 4 x T.I. Green 6 x 4 Flares 2 x 90 x 4 inc 1 x 4,000 HC 5 37 Mid-upper and Gee both u/s 12/13 Mar 43 F/O F.J.Garvey Essen 4 x T.I. Green 1 x T.I. White 1 x 4,000 HC 2 x 250 GP LD 1 x 250 GP LD 4 08 [space] 27/28 Mar 43 F/O F.J.Garvey Berlin 6 x T.I. Green 6 x T.I. Yellow 1 x 4,000 HC 2 x 250 GP (LD) 6 56 [space]
-4-
[page break]
[list headings] [underlined] Date [/underlined] [underlined] Pilot [/underlined] [underlined] Target [/underlined] [underlined] Hrs Mins [/underlined]
[list] 29/30 Mar 43 F/O F.J.Garvey Berlin 2 x T.I. Yellow 1 x Green with Red 3 x 4 White 4 x T.I. Red 1 x 4,000 HC 7 08 Flak damage. 2/3 Apr 43 F/Sgt McNichol G.A. St Nazaire 4 x T.I. Red 6 x 1,000 GP 4 x 500 GP 4 36 [space] 23/24 May 43 F/O F.J.Garvey Dortmund 4 x T.I. Green 1 x T.I. Green (LB) 4 x 1,000 GP (NF) 1 x 4,000 HE 2 x 1,000 GP (LD) 4 33 [space] 25/26 May 43 F/O F.J.Garvey Dusseldorf 1 x T.I. Yellow (LB) 1 x T.I. Green (LB) 3 x T.I. Green 1 x 4,000 HC 3 x 1,000 GP 1 x 1,000 GP (LD) 4 08 [space] 27/28 May 43 F/Sgt King R. Essen 1 x 4,000 HC 4 x 1,000 GP 6 x 500 MC 4 34 [space] 29/30 May 43 F/O M.R. Chick Wuppertal 1 x 4,000 HC 1,008 x 4 inc 72 x 4 ‘x’ inc 4 48 [space] 11/12 Jun 43 F/O M.R.Chick Munster 1 x 4,000 12 SPC x 8 x 30 4 52 [space] 12/13 Jun 43 F/O M.R.Chick Bochum 1 x 4,000 HC 1 x 1,000 GP 1 x 1000 GP (LD) 12 x 90 x 4 inc 4 36 [space] 16/17 Jun 43 F/Sgt Cummings M.K. Cologne 1 x 4,000 HC 12 x 90 x 4 inc 4 07 [space]
-5-
[page break]
[list headings] [underlined] Date [/underlined] [underlined] Pilot [/underlined] [underlined] Target [/underlined] [underlined] Hrs Mins [/underlined]
[list] 19/20 Jun 43 P/O H.Mappin Moutchanin 5 x 1,000 MC 8 x 500 MC 3 45 [space] 21/22 Jun 43 F/O M.R.Chick Krefeld 1 x 4,000 HC 12 x 90 x 4 inc 4 18 [space] 22/23 Jun 43 F/Lt F.J.Garvey Mulheim 8 x T.I. Green 1 x 4,000 HC 6 x 1,000 GP 4 07 Flak damage. 24/25 Jun 43 F/Lt F.J.Garvey Elberfeld 1 x T.I. Green LB 4 x T.I. Green 1 x 4,000 HC 6 x 1,000 GP (2LD) 4 24 [space] 28/29 Jun 43 F/Lt F.J.Garvey Cologne 3 x T.I. Green 1 x T.I. Green LB 1 x 4,000 HC 6 x 1,000 MC 4 19 [space] 3 Jul 43 F/Lt F.J.Garvey Cologne 1 x T.I. Green LB 3 x T.I. Green 1 x 4,000 HC 6 x 1,000 MC Backer Up 4 48 Windscreen holed. 12/13 Jul 43 F/O W.R.Thompson Turin 8 x 500 GP LD 6 x 8 x 30 inc 9 30 [space] 24/25 Jul 43 S/L R.J.Manton Hamburg 1 x 4,000 HC 4 x 1,000 MC 1 x 12 x 20(F) 6 11 [space] 25/26 Jul 43 F/Lt F.J.Garvey Essen 1 x 4,000 HC 3 x 1,000 MC 2 x T.I. Green (LB) 3 x T.I. Green 4 39 Passenger: General Anderson USAF
-6-
[page break]
[list headings] [underlined] Date [/underlined] [underlined] Pilot [/underlined] [underlined] Target [/underlined] [underlined] Hrs Mins [/underlined]
[list] 27/29 Jul 43 F/Lt F.J.Garvey Hamburg 2 x T.I. Green LB 3 x T.I. Green 1 x 4,000 HC 3 x 1,000 GP LD 5 34 [space] 29/30 Jul 43 S/L R.J.Manton Hamburg 1 x 4,000 HC 10 x 500 MC 5 42 [space] 12/13 Aug 43 F/Lt F.J.Garvey Milan 2 x T.I. Green LB 2 x T.I. Green 1 x 4,000 7 47 [space] 14/15 Aug 43 F/Lt F.J.Garvey Milan 4 x T.I. Yellow 1 x 4,000 3 x 500 8 07 [space]
[underlined] OPERATION FLYING WITH 467 SQUADRON (BOTTESFORD) – a/c letter “S”
*27/28 Sep 43 P/O A.M.Finch Hanover 1 x 4,000 HC 104 x 30 1,260 x 4 inc 5 23 Recommended a/c after [underlined] 78 [/underlined] trips unreliable for ops. *29 Sep 43 P/O N.M.McClelland Bochum 1 x 4,000 HC 104 x 30 1,260 x 4 inc 4 50 [space] *2/3 Oct 43 F/Lt H.B.Locke Munich 1 x 4,000 HC 84 x 30 600 x 4 inc 8 17 [space] *3/4 Oct 43 F/O J.A.Colpus Kassel 1 x 4,000 HC 24 x 30 1,440 x 4 inc 6 11 [space] *4/5 Oct 43 P/O B.R.Jones Frankfurt 1 x 4,000 HC 1,440 x 4 inc 6 51 [space] *7/8 Oct 43 F/O J.A.Colpus Stuttgart 1 x 4,000 HC 72 x 30 990 x 4 inc 6 50 Landed at Tangmere
-7-
[page break]
*18/19 Oct 43 P/O N.M.McClelland Hanover 1 x 4,000 HC 104 x 30 1,260 x 4 inc 5 15 This aircraft ‘S’ is only fit for a conversion unit *3/4 Nov 43 P/O N.M.McClelland Dusseldorf 1 x 4,000 HC 108 x 30 1,560 x 4 inc 4 21 [space] *10/11 Nov 43 P/O A.Fisher Modane 1 x 4,000 HC 44 x 30 840 x 4 inc 7 35 [space]
11 Nov 43 Moved with Squadron to Waddington.
*18/19 Nov 43 P/O N.M.McClelland Berlin 1 x 4,000 HC 52 x 30 1,170 x 4 inc 8 21 Shot-up over Bonn. *23/24 Nov 43 P/O N.M.McClelland Berlin 1 x 4,000 HC 48 x 30 900 x 4 inc 6 31 [space] *23/24 Nov 43 P/O N.M.McClelland Berlin 1 x 4,000 HC 64 x 30 1,230 x 4 inc 6 31 [space] 26/27 Nov 43 F/O J.A.Colpus Berlin 1 x 4,000 HC 56 x 30 1,050 x 4 inc 7 46 Had collision with another Lancaster just after bombing the target. Went into severe dive to port, but by use of rudder aileron and engines, aircraft maintained height and landed at Tholthorpe. 15/16 Feb 44 P/O J.W.M.McManus Berlin 1 x 4,000 HC 6 x 30 900 x 4 ‘X’ 6 48 [space]
* Sorties credited to other aircraft in the official records for which there is sufficient evidence to indicate that they were flown in R5868.
-8-
[page break]
[list headings] [underlined] Date [/underlined] [underlined] Pilot [/underlined] [underlined] Target [/underlined] [underlined] Hrs Mins [/underlined]
[list] 19/20 Feb 44 P/O J.W.M.McManus Leipzig 1 x 4,000 HC 36 x 30 1,050 x 4 150 x 4 ‘x’ 7.24 [space] 20/21 Feb 44 P/O J.W.M.McManus Stuttgart 1 47 DNCO (Did Not Complete Operation) Port Outer shaky on take-off, cut at 13,000 ft. Bomb load jettisoned. 24/25 Feb 44 P/O J.W.M.McManus Schweinfurt 1 x 4,000 HC 104 x 30 900 x 4 inc 7 32 [space] 25/26 Feb 44 P/O J.W.M.McManus Augsburg 1 x 4,000 HC 92 x 30 650 x 4 100 x 4 ‘x’ IB 7 45 [space] ½ Mar 44 P/O J.W.M.McManus Stuttgart 1 x 4,000 HC 72 x 30 800 x 4 100 x 4 ‘x’ IB 8 08 [space] 18/19 Mar 44 P/O J.W.M.McManus Frankfurt 1 x 4,000 88 x 30 1,200 x 4 inc 150 x 4 ‘x’ 5 58 [space] 22/23 Mar 44 P/O J.W.M.McManus Frankfurt 1 x 4,000 60 x 30 1,500 x 4 inc 5 12 Tail wheel tyre collapsed on landing (possibly flak damage). 24/25 Mar 44 P/O J.W.M.McManus Berlin 3 19 No attack. Port outer failure. Port inner oil leaks. Bombs jettisoned. 25/26 Mar 44 P/O R.E.Llewelyn Aulnoye 13 x 1,000 MC 5 15 Bombed with port outer engine failure – returned at 5,000 ft resulting in just making Tangmere. 11/12 Apr 44 P/O A.B.L.Tottenham Aachen 16 x 5000 MC 30 x 4 inc 4 11 [space]
-9-
[page break]
[list headings] [underlined] Date [/underlined] [underlined] Pilot [/underlined] [underlined] Target [/underlined] [underlined] Hrs Mins [/underlined]
[list] 18/19 Apr 44 P/O A.B.L.Tottenham Juvisy 14 x 1,000 M fused 6 hr delay 4 15 [space] 20/21 Apr 44 P/O A.B.L.Tottenham La Chappelle 18 x 500 MC 4 17 [space] 22/23 Apr 44 P/O A.B.L.Tottenham Brunswick 1 x 2,000 HC 12 x 500 ‘J’ clusters 5 27 [space] 24/25 Apr 44 P/O A.B.L.Tottenham Munich 6 x 500 ‘J’ inc 144 x 30 inc 9 39 Landed at Market Harborough. 26/27 Apr 44 P/O A.B.L.Tottenham Schweinfurt 1,800 x 4 inc 150 x 4 ‘x’ IB 8 58 [space]28/29 Apr 44 P/O A.B.L.Tottenham St Medard-en-Jalles 6 x 1,000 (USA) GP 5 x 500 MC 7 29 [space] 3/4 May 44 P/O T.N.Scholefield Mailly 1 x 4,000 HC 16 x 500 MC 5 33 [space] 6/7 May 44 P/O T.N.Scholefield Sables-sur-Sarthe/Louailles 13 x 1,000 GP (USA) 4 46 [space] 10/11 May 44 P/O T.N.Scholefield Lille 1 x 4,000 HC 16 x 500 MC 3 28 [space] 11/12 May 44 P/O T.N.Scholefield Bourg Leopold 3 36 Ordered NOT to bomb. Fighter attack for 9 1/2 mins by 2 Ju 88s. Successfully forestalled 9 or 10 attacks carrying full bomb load. 5/6 Jun 44 F/O I.Fotheringham St Pierre du Mont 11 x 1,000 GP (USA0 4 x 500 GP 4 12 [space]
-10-
[page break]
[list headings] [underlined] Date [/underlined] [underlined] Pilot [/underlined] [underlined] Target [/underlined] [underlined] Hrs Mins [/underlined]
[list] 6/7 Jun 44 F/O I.Fotheringham Argentan 2 x 1,000 MC 2 x 1,000 SAP (USA) 10 x 500 GP 3 59 8/9 Jun 44 F/O I.Fotheringham Rennes 12 x 500 GP 2 x 500 LD 2 x 1,000 SAP (USA) 6 11 Landed Metheringham. 12/13 Jun 44 F/Sgt Millar K.V. Poitiers 11 x 500 MC 2 x 1,000 GP (USA) 12/13 Jun 44 F/Sgt Millar K.V. Poitiers 11 x 500 MC 2 x 1,000 GP (USA) 1 x 1,000 MC 6 35 [space] 14/15 Jun 44 F/O I.Fotheringham Aunay sur Odon 11 x 1,000 MC 4 x 500 MC 4 35 Army Support. 24/25 Jun 44 F/O G.C.Skelton Prouville 14 x 500 MC 2 x 1,000 MC 3 22 ‘P’ Plane Installations. 27/28 Jun 44 F/O I.Fotheringham Vitry 9 x 1,000 GP (USA) 2 x 500 GP (USA) 2 x 500 GP LD 72 hrs 7 31 [space] 29 Jun 44 F/Sgt Johnson M.G. Beauvoir 11 x 1,000 4 x 500 3 25 Buzz-Bomb site. Daylight attack.4/5 Jul 44 F/O W.R.Williams St Leu d’Esserent 11 x 1,000 4 x 500 4 23 Buzz-Bomb site. 7/8 Jul 44 P/O M.G.Johnson St Leu d’Esserent 11 x 1,000 4 x 500 4 49 Buzz-Bomb site. 14/14 Jul 44 P/O M.G.Johnson Villeneuve St Georges 16 x 500 GP 2 x 500 GP 6 hr LD 6 44 [space] 18 Jul 44 F/Sgt Cowan I.R. Caen 11 x 1,000 SAP (USA) 4 x 500 MC 3 30 Daylight.
-11-
[page break]
[list headings] [underlined] Date [/underlined] [underlined] Pilot [/underlined] [underlined] Target [/underlined] [underlined] Hrs Mins [/underlined]
[list] 18/19 Jul 44 F/O M.G.Johnson Revigny 10 x 1,000 MC 12 hrs LD 3 x 500 12 hrs 5 07 [space] 8 Dec 44 W/C J.K.Douglas Urft Dam 14 x 1,000 4 25 Daylight attack. Landed at Ford. 17/18 Dec 44 S/L E.L.Langlais Munich 1 x 4,000 9 09 [space] 18/19 Dec 44 F/O P.K.Shanahan Gydnia 9 x 1,000 9 19 [space] 21/22 Dec 44 F/O G.A.Stewart Politz 1 x 4,000 HC 5 x 1,000 MC 10 51 Landed at Leuchars. 27 Dec 44 F/Lt M.G.Johnson Rheydt 13 x 1,000 MC 4 53 Daylight. ½ Jan 45 F/O W.K.Boxsell Gravenhorst-Mittelland Canal 13 x 1,000 MC 6 38 Landed at Lossiemouth. 13/14 Jan 45 S/L E.L.Langlais Politz 1 x 4,000 HC 9 x 500 MC 2 x 500 MC LD 10 10 [space] 14/15 Jan 45 F/O J.J.J.Cross Merseberg 1 x 4,000 HC 9 x 500 GP 9 11 Landed at East Moor. 16/17 jan 45 F/Lt F.Lawrence Brux 1 x 4,000 HC 10 x 500 MC 2 x 500 MC LD 9 43 Hit by light flak. Bomb Aimer slightly injured. 1/2 Feb 45 F/Lt F.Lawrence Siegen 1 x 4,000 HC 16 x 500 MC 6 11 [space] 2/3 Feb 45 S/L E.L.Langlais Karslruhr 1 x 4,000 HC 12 SBCs (150 x 4 inc) 7 04 [space] 16/17 Mar 45 F/Lt P.K.Shanahan Wurzburg 1 x 4,000 HC 11 SBC (150 x 4 inc) 6 40 [space]
-12-
[page break]
[list headings] [underlined] Date [/underlined] [underlined] Pilot [/underlined] [underlined] Target [/underlined] [underlined] Hrs Mins [/underlined]
[list] 20/21 Mar 45 F/O L.W.Baker Bohlen 1 x 4,000 HC 14 x 500 MC 8 19 [space] 22 Mar 45 W/C I.H.A.Hay Bremen 14 x 1,000 MC 5 19 Daylight attack. 23/24 mar 45 F/O L.W.Baker wesel 13 x 1,000 MC 5 32 [space] 27 Mar 45 F/O L.W.Baker Farge 11 x 1,000 4 35 Daylight attack. 7 small flak holes in wings. 4 Apr 45 W/C I.H.A.Hay Nordhausen 1 x 4,000 HC 16 x 500 MC 7 09 Daylight attack. 6 Apr 45 S/L W.M.Kynock Ijmuiden 14 x 1,000 MC 3 18 Daylight. No attack made. Army already there. Turned back by the Master Bomber. 9 Apr 45 W/C I.H.A.Hay Hamburg 13 x 1,000 MC 4 18 Daylight. 16/17 Apr 45 F/O R.A.Swift Pilsen 1 x 4,000 HC 13 x 500 MC 8 23 Landed at Boscombe Down. 18/19 Apr 45 F/O L.W.Baker Komotau (Czechoslovakia) 18 x 500 MC 8 08 Landed at Lyneham. 23 Apr 45 F/O L.W.Baker Flensberg 8 x 1,000 MC 6 x 500 MC 5 24 No attack made Weather u/s.
Grand Total of Operational Flying = [underlined] 795 25 [/underlined]
Bombs Dropped Operationally = [underlined] 466 tons approx. [/underlined]
[underlined] POST-WAR HISTORY [/underlined]
[list] 23 Aug 45 to 15 MU – exhibition aircraft. 16 Mar 56 Struck off charge as an exhibition aircraft and transferred to 13 MU Wroughton to the Historical Aircraft Collection (Museum). 1959 To Scampton – for display. 24 Nov 70 to 71 MU for refurbishing. 12 Mar 72 To RAF Museum, Hendon.
-13-
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
Operational history of Lancaster 1B R5868
Description
An account of the resource
List of 135 operations flown by Lancaster R5868 from 8/9 June 1942 until 23 April 1945. List includes pilot, target, bomb load. hours flown and comments. Was with 83 Squadron at RAF Scampton and Wyton then 467 Squadron at RAF Bottesford and then RAF Waddington until the end of the war.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-06-29
Format
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Thirteen page typewritten document
Language
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eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MDunmoreG635201-160526-03
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
England--Lincolnshire
England--Cambridgeshire
England
Germany
Germany--Wilhelmshaven
Poland
Poland--Gdańsk
France
Germany--Essen
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Vegesack
Germany--Mainz (Rhineland-Palatinate)
Germany--Flensburg
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Kiel
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Germany--Aachen
Italy
Italy--Genoa
Italy--Turin
Germany--Munich
Germany--Berlin
France--Lorient
Italy--Milan
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Cologne
France--Saint-Nazaire
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Wuppertal
Germany--Bochum
France--Montchanin
Germany--Kassel
France--Modane
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Schweinfurt
Germany--Augsburg
France--Maubeuge Region
Germany--Braunschweig
France--Bourg-en-Bresse
France--Saint-Médard-en-Jalles
France--Mailly-le-Camp
France--Sablé-sur-Sarthe
France--Lille
Belgium
Belgium--Leopoldsburg
France--Saint-Pierre-du-Mont (Landes)
France--Argentan
France--Rennes
France--Poitiers
France--Villers-Bocage (Calvados)
France--Abbeville Region
France--Vitry-en-Artois
France--Beauvoir-sur-Mer
France--Creil
France--Caen
Poland--Gdynia
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Germany--Rheydt
Germany--Mittelland Canal
Germany--Merseburg
Germany--Siegen
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Würzburg
Germany--Wesel (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Nordhausen (Thuringia)
Netherlands
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Czech Republic
Czech Republic--Pilsen Basin
Czech Republic--Chomutov
Germany--Düsseldorf
Great Britain
Germany--Münster in Westfalen
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Osnabrück
Germany--Stuttgart
France--Bordeaux (Nouvelle-Aquitaine)
Great Britain
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
1944
1945
1943-07-24
1943-07-25
1943-07-27
1943-07-28
1943-07-29
1943-07-30
1944-04-18
1944-04-19
1944-05-03
1944-05-04
1944-07-04
1944-07-05
1944-06
1944-07
1944-08
1942-07
1942-08
1942-09
1942-10
1942-11
1942-12
1944-02
1944-03
1944-04
1944-05
1944-12
1945-01
1945-02
1945-03
1945-04
1944-06-05
1944-06-06
1944-06-14
1944-06-15
1944-06-24
1944-06-25
1944-07-18
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
Robin Christian
467 Squadron
83 Squadron
bombing of Hamburg (24-31 July 1943)
Bombing of Mailly-le-Camp (3/4 May 1944)
bombing of the Creil/St Leu d’Esserent V-1 storage areas (4/5 July 1944)
bombing of the Juvisy, Noisy-le-Sec and Le Bourget railways (18/19 April 1944)
bombing of the Normandy coastal batteries (5/6 June 1944)
bombing of the Pas de Calais V-1 sites (24/25 June 1944)
Lancaster
mine laying
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Pathfinders
RAF Bottesford
RAF Scampton
RAF Waddington
RAF Wyton
tactical support for Normandy troops
target indicator
V-1
V-weapon
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/308/24681/LMottersheadF422232v1.1.pdf
f76801c86e1314e5d06be70cf352a3ad
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
Mottershead, Frank
F Mottershead
Description
An account of the resource
Eleven items. An oral history interview with Frank Mottershead (422232 Royal Australian Air Force), photographs and his log book. He flew operations as a wireless operator with 463 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Frank Mottershead 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
2016-04-30
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
Mottershead, F
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
Frank Mottershead’s observer’s and air gunner’s flying log book
Description
An account of the resource
Observer’s and air gunner’s flying log book for F Mottershead, wireless operator, covering the period from 29 April 1943 to 9 April 1945. Detailing his flying training and operations flown. He was stationed at RCAF Calgary, RCAF Mossbank, RCAF Pat Bay, RAF Lichfield, RAF West Freugh, RAF Syerston and RAF Waddington. Aircraft flown in were Norseman, Fort II, Bolingbroke, Anson, Hampden, Wellington, Stirling and Lancaster. He flew a total of 30 operations with 463 squadron, 6 daylight and 24 night. Targets were Rheydt, Dortmund, Calais, Karlsruhe, Kaiserslauten, Wilhelmshaven, Bremen, Flushing, Brunswick, Bergen, Harburg, Duren, Ladbergen, Munich, Heilbronn, Geissen, Gdynia, Houffalize, Mitteland Canal, Politz, Brux, Dresden, Rositz, Bohlen, Wesel, Ijmuiden and Hamburg. His pilots on operations were Flying Officer Smith and Flight Lieutenant Huxtable.
Creator
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Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Mike Connock
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.
Format
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One booklet
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LMottersheadF422232v1
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 Australian Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Belgium
Canada
Czech Republic
France
Germany
Great Britain
Netherlands
Norway
Poland
Alberta--Calgary
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Belgium--Houffalize
British Columbia--Vancouver Island
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Staffordshire
France--Calais
Germany--Braunschweig
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Dresden
Germany--Düren (Cologne)
Germany--Giessen (Hesse)
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Heilbronn
Germany--Kaiserslautern
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Leipzig Region
Germany--Mittelland Canal
Germany--Munich
Germany--Rheydt
Germany--Wesel (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Wilhelmshaven
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Netherlands--Vlissingen
Norway--Bergen
Poland--Gdynia
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Scotland--Wigtownshire
Germany--Hamburg
Saskatchewan
Alberta
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Czech Republic--Most
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
1944
1945
1944-09-19
1944-09-20
1944-09-23
1944-09-24
1944-09-26
1944-09-27
1944-09-28
1944-10-05
1944-10-06
1944-10-11
1944-10-14
1944-10-15
1944-10-23
1944-10-28
1944-10-29
1944-11-11
1944-11-16
1944-11-21
1944-11-26
1944-11-27
1944-12-04
1944-12-06
1944-12-18
1944-12-19
1944-12-30
1945-01-01
1945-01-02
1945-01-13
1945-01-14
1945-01-16
1945-01-17
1945-02-08
1945-02-09
1945-02-13
1945-02-14
1945-02-15
1945-02-19
1945-02-20
1945-02-21
1945-03-20
1945-03-21
1945-03-23
1945-03-24
1945-04-06
1945-04-09
1654 HCU
27 OTU
463 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
Bolingbroke
bombing
Bombing and Gunnery School
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
Hampden
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Operational Training Unit
RAF Lichfield
RAF Syerston
RAF Waddington
RAF West Freugh
Stirling
training
Wellington
wireless operator
-
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
Stephenson, Stuart
Stuart Stephenson MBE
S Stephenson
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Stephenson, S
Description
An account of the resource
20 items. An oral history interview with Stuart Stephenson MBE, Chairman of the Lincs-Lancaster Association, and issues of 5 Group News.
The collection was catalogued by Barry Hunter.
In accordance with the conditions stipulated by the donor, some items are available only at the International Bomber Command Centre / University of Lincoln.
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.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
V GROUP NEWS
[Stamp]
No 29. December, 1944
[Page break]
V GROUP NEWS
No 29. December, 1944.
[Page break]
Foreword by the A.O.C.
In this foreword I say Goodbye to 5 Group after two years of command, covering a period when the Group, in common with the other Groups in Bomber Command, has seen much hard fighting and very great damage inflicted on Germany. In particular, the Winter campaigns of 1942/43 and 1943/44 will be looked back upon in future years as outstanding examples of sustained courage and endurance on the part of the crews, some of whom made 12 or more attacks on Berlin alone. In those days neither the training organisation nor the factories could maintain a sufficient flow of crews and aircraft to keep pace with losses, and Squadrons were often 25% below establishment; but it was those campaigns, with the parallel campaigns by the U.S. forces, which were then arriving in strength, which finally put Germany on the defensive in the air. They forced her to turn over her production from bombers to fighters and to draw off for the protection of her industries many hundreds of aircraft which she badly needed to support her battle fronts. They marked the beginning of her decline as an Air Power.
During 1943 the new equipment which was beginning to come along was still far from perfect. There were no A.P.I’s to watch over course keeping; Gee and the D.R. Compass were still being introduced, and H.2.S. was yet to come; while systems of target marking were in their infancy. The past two years have, therefore, been periods of development and training which have had to be continued while a major campaign was in progress. In spite of the hard knocks which the Group has had to take, progress has been steady until, nowadays, targets are seldom missed when conditions are reasonably satisfactory.
The special technique against small targets which has been built up in this Group, based upon low level marking and off-set bombing, has achieved results which, in terms of bombs per acre over the target area, are unsurpassed by any other bombing force in the World. For this state of affairs, all in the Group share the credit – the aircrew for having down to a heavy training task at a time when they might hope that their period of arduous training lay behind them – the ground crews who have never failed to get an aircraft into the air if it was humanly possible to do so – the specialists in every branch for their ingenuity in servicing highly complicated mechanisms – and finally the whole body of personnel whose determination that the Group should never pull less than its full weight has been a great incentive to me personally and I believe to all the other senior officers throughout the Group.
It is, as a team, that the work has been done, and in saying Goodbye to its members, I include every officer, airman and airwoman in the Group. I thank you all for your extraordinary exertions over two difficult years and ask you to accept that the honour, which H.M. The King recently bestowed upon me as Air Officer Commanding, is a tribute to the growing list of targets destroyed and thus to the work of everyone in the Group.
I wish you all Good Luck.
V” group news. No. 29. December, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] tactics
December has been marked by the first serious attempts by the G.A.F. to intercept Bomber Command aircraft in daylight. On two separate occasions formations of 30 to 40 ME.109’s and FW.190’s attacked bomber gaggles and succeeded in destroying several bombers before the fighter escort came to the rescue. The enemy fighters showed a marked disinclination to attack the main gaggles which tightened formation when attacked, but concentrated on picking off stragglers and aircraft in the thinly spaced parts of the bomber stream. Although corkscrewing by stragglers proved effective in some cases, the main gaggles carried out no combat manoeuvres. Several fighters were claimed destroyed or damaged, including a claim by one mid-upper gunner of two destroyed – a good effort.
Although during these attacks some bombers fired a few Green Verey cartridges the fighter escorts never saw them. Crews should therefore in future continue firing Greens until it is obvious that the fighter escort has seen and engaged the enemy.
German night fighters are still expending considerable energy and fuel without achieving much success, and have again failed this month to offer effective opposition even to deep penetrations. There are signs, however, that the lack of success over Germany may tempt the enemy to resume intruder activity over this country. With the large number of aircraft now operating and with no IFF in use it will be very difficult to detect intruders returning with the main stream, particularly if the return route to the Group area is from the North Sea. Suitable action is being taken to deal with this danger, but crews must remain on the alert over this country, particularly when circling the airfield lights preparatory to landing, and should view with extreme suspicion any twin-engined aircraft seen, even if it is burning navigation lights.
V” group news. No. 29. December, 1944.
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[Drawing] operations
[Underlined] HEILBRONN – 4/5TH DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
Master Bombers:- Town - W/Cdr. Smith
Marshalling Yards – W/Cdr. Shorthouse.
A force of 292 aircraft took off to attack the town and marshalling yards. Nos. 53 and 55 Bases and 106 Squadron were detailed to attack the town. Aircraft were spread over an 85° sector, and crews were to aim at the red markers, delaying release as ordered.
No.56 Base was to attack the marshalling yards, which were to be marked with Yellow T.I., aircraft to aim at the T.I. and delay release dor4 seconds.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined]
[Underlined] TOWN [/underlined] Weather over the target varied between no cloud and 5/10ths alt. cu. at 12/14,000 feet. Illumination and marking went according to plan, and the marking was assessed as accurate. The markers cannot be plotted on the night photographs. An initial tendency for the bombing to undershoot was corrected by the Master Bomber, and a good sector attack developed. An area of 2000 X 1500 yards has been wiped out, and on the West side damage is severe and widespread. Only the outermost suburbs to the South and West have escaped lightly.
[Underlined] MARSHALLING YARDS [/underlined] One Yellow T.I. was assessed as 100 yards South of the Marking Point, but the Master Bomber was unable to distinguish it from flares burning on the ground, so did not issue any instructions. Crews also had difficulty in identifying the marker, and approximately 50% attacked the town instead. Subsequent reconnaissance has revealed only limited damage to the yards.
[Underlined] GIESSEN – 6/7TH DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- S/Ldr. Benjamin.
Target – Marshalling yards and town some 35 miles North of Frankfurt. Force 265 aircraft, the majority on the marshalling yards.
[Underlined] PLAN [/underlined] Normal marking and illumination were used. The marshalling yards were 1 1/2 miles South of the town, thus presenting a difficult marking problem. The solution was to select a common marking point to the South of the yards, and issue the marshalling yard force with two false wind vectors calculated to spread the bombs up the centre of the yard. The force on the town was to carry out normal overshoot procedure on a common heading.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined] Blind marking and illumination were good. One Red T.I. dropped visually is known to have been placed accurately on the marking point, while another has been plotted about 1 1/2 miles East of the town. It is apparent that the majority of crews attacked
“V” GROUP NEWS. No. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] OPERATIONS. [/underlined]
the accurate T.I. while a small minority (which proved to be inexperienced crews) were attracted by the inaccurate marker. Photographs have shown that two sticks of incendiaries fell across the accurate T.I., one in the early stages of the attack, and another later. Only careless and slipshod bombing drill and failure to adhere strictly to briefing instructions could have been responsible for this.
Fortunately these loose sticks did not obliterate the accurate marker and a good concentration developed.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined]
[Underlined] MARSHALLING YARDS [/underlined] A heavy concentration fell on these yards, which almost entirely destroyed the round houses, and cause very considerable damage to rolling stock. At the Southern end of the yard, three tail bridges over the roadway were destroyed or very badly damaged, as were also the important fly-over bridges. The standard of concentration was equal to that on French marshalling yards.
[Underlined] TOWN [/underlined] The town has suffered heavily throughout, the main city area to the North being almost completely devastated by fire. Included in this devastation were a rubber works, the arsenal, the gas and water works, engineering works, and the power station.
[Underlined] URFT DAM – 8TH DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
The Urft Dam lies a few miles south of Duren. In the event of an enemy withdrawal, he might well blow up the dam and flood the surrounding country, thus seriously impeding Allied ground forces.
206 aircraft were despatched in an attempt to breech the crest of the dam overflow, and so forestall any action by the enemy at a critical period. The dam itself was too strong to be destroyed even by ‘Tallboy’ bombs.
[Underlined] PLAN [/underlined] The main force were to attack in pairs of squadrons at five minutes [sic] intervals. Crews were to bomb visually.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined] Unfortunately 6 – 9/10ths cloud at 6 – 8,000 feet was encountered over the target, and only 128 aircraft identified and bombed. Due to weather conditions bombing was scattered and although hits were claimed, the dam was not breached.
[Underlined] URFT DAM – 11TH DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
This target was again attacked in daylight by 233 aircraft.
[Underlined] PLAN [/underlined] Similar to previous attack, though the overall T.O.T. was shorter. Aircraft carrying 12,000 lb bombs were to attack last.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined] Once again the weather for bombing was bad, cloud being 5 – 9/10ths at 6 – 8000 feet. 176 aircraft bombed through gaps in the cloud, and claimed hits. Army ground reports claim six hits on the spillway, bit the hoped for erosion had not taken place, although some reduction in the water level was apparent.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] OPERATIONS. [/underlined]
[Underlined] OSLO FIORD – 13/14TH DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- S/Ldr. Benjamin.
Sixty-one aircraft of No.54 Base were detailed to attack enemy shipping in Oslo Fiord. The chief target was the cruiser Koln. It was known that this ship had been very active recently, but the chief difficulty lay in locating it, as it returned to different berths after each operation.
[Underlined] PLAN [/underlined] No.54 Base provided their own illumination and marking. In the light of flares, Mosquitoes were to mark a selected position near the supposed anchorage of the ship, and the Lancasters were to aim visually.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined] The target was reported to have moved North from the briefed position. This made visual identification extremely difficult, and bombing results were not observed. The force started to bomb in the vicinity of the proximity markers. On instructions from the Master Bomber, bombing was shifted to a large merchant vessel in the centre of the harbour. A little later, a cruiser believed to be the Koln was identified lying some two miles West of the marking point, and those crews who had not already bombed were ordered to attack the new target. Bomb splashes were observed round the cruiser, but no damage has been established.
[Underlined] MUNICH – 17/18TH DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- S/Ldr. Stubbs.
289 aircraft took off to attack this very important target, determined to atone for the last attack which was only partially successful. The illuminating and marking plan was normal, except that the visual Red T.I. were to be backed up with a White T.I. flashing ‘V’. The attack was to be in two man sectors, and bombing on the Red markers with overshoot as ordered.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined] Weather over the target was clear with good visibility. Marking and illumination went according to plan, and a good concentration of Red T.I. was achieved. Except for an initial stick of incendiaries which fell across the markers, crews reported good bombing and a successful sector attack. Although the town is of more substantial construction than other targets attacked successfully by this Group, day cover shows very considerable areas of severe damage spreading out from the main station, and covering the old centre of the town.
[Underlined] GDYNIA – 18/19TH DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- W/Cdr. Woodroffe.
This large Polish port is the main base for what remains of the elusive German Fleet, and at the time of the attack all except two of the larger operational units were present, as well as a large concentration of U-boats, and merchant shipping. 227 aircraft attacked the target.
[Underlined] PLAN [/underlined] The target was out of range of Mosquitoes, so all marking was carried out by Lancasters. The target was to be illuminated blindly, and by the light of these flares a picked force of
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] OPERATIONS. [/underlined]
the best bombing crews were to attack the pocket battleship LUTZOW visually. Marking for the main attack was to be a stick of Red and Green T.I. dropped visually at the South Western side of the docks. The Master Bomber was to select the most accurate of these T.I’s and instruct the main force to bomb it with a false wind vector.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined] Weather over the target was clear, but with moderate visibility and a smoke screen late in the attack. A few crews identified the LUTZOW and bombed her, and the remainder joined in the main attack. Illumination and marking was good, and the most Southerly T.I. was accurately backed up. Due, however, to an error of calculation before take-off (a reciprocal wind was used), the Master Bomber’s navigator issued a strong wind vector, and the main weight of the attack fell to the North and West of the berth where the main naval units were lying. Although day photographs show no damage to the main fleet, and old SCHLESIEN class battleship is down by the stern, and damage is visible to warehouses, floating docks and merchant shipping.
Instead of an outstanding success the Group achieved some slight damage incommensurate with the weight of the attack. This attack affords a good example, which all should note, of the far reaching effect of small mistakes.
[Underlined] POLITZ – 21/22ND DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- W/Cdr. Woodroffe.
207 aircraft took off to attack the synthetic oil plant, one of the most important and most heavily defended targets in Germany. It had already been attacked by American heavy bombers, but was back in full production at the time of the attack.
[Underlined] PLAN [/underlined] The target was to be marked blindly with Yellow T.I. and White flashing ‘V’. In the light of flares, the marking point was to be marked with a stick of Red and Green T.I. The Master Bomber was to pick out the most suitable T.I. and order main force to bomb it with a false wind vector set on the bombsight.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined] Weather at the target was clear, but an extensive smoke screen was in action which made visual identification of the target very difficult. In addition to this, a number of flares did not light until they struck the ground, and others ignited just above the ground. These were confused with the Yellow proximity T.I. and added still further to the difficulties of the Master Bomber and visual markers. Nevertheless, Marker I, identifying what he considered to be the marking point, dropped his stick of Red and Green T.I’s. The Master Bomber called for an assessment, and three separate and independent assessments were made, two of 200 yards North, and one of 200 yards N.E. On the basis of this, the Master Bomber instructed Link I to work out a wind vector assuming the T.I’s to be 300 yards North of the marking point. This was then issued, and the main force called in to attack.
Night photographs show that the markers were centred some 2,000 yards North of the target and the main weight of the bombing was displaced accordingly.
The bomb aimer of the marker aircraft which dropped the stick of Red and Green T.I’s claims to have identified visually the marking point in relation to three well defined pin points, and there is no evidence to show why the markers fell so far North.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] OPERATIONS. [/underlined]
[Underlined] ST. VITH – 26TH DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- Provided by 8 (P.F.F.) Group.
The target was a concentration of armour, troops and supplies inside the salient made by the new German thrust on the Western Front. Conditions for take-off were bad with very poor visibility, and only 26 aircraft took off for the attack.
[Underlined] PLAN [/underlined] Target was to be marked by Oboe aircraft with Red T.I, backed up with salvoes of Red and Green T.I. Bombing was to be direct on the markers, or as ordered by the Master Bomber.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined] Crews reported marking accurate and on time, and bombing was well concentrated.
[Underlined] RHEYDT – 27TH DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- Provided by 8 (P.F.F.) Group.
44 aircraft took off in conditions of poor visibility to attack the marshalling yards South of Munchen Gladbach, which were handling a large volume of military traffic for the German thrust on the Western Front.
[Underlined] PLAN] [/underlined] The method was controlled Oboe ground marking. The aiming point was to be marked initially with Red T.I., backed up with salvoes of Red and Green T.I. A Master Bomber was to direct the bombing.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined] Weather over the target was clear, and the first wave had no difficulty in identifying visually. The target was soon covered in a dense pall of smoke which tended to obscure the markers, but all crews reported a good concentration of bombing. P.R.U. cover shows severe damage in the yards, with a slight spread of bombing into the town area.
[Underlined] OSLO FIORD – 28/29TH DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
Master Bombers: S/Ldr. Benjamin and W/Cdr. Petty.
Two forces totalling 67 aircraft took off to attack shipping in Oslo Fiord. The larger force had for its target the cruiser Koln, lying off Horten on the West side of the Fiord, and the secondary force was to bomb any shipping seen off Moss on the Eastern shore.
[Underlined] PLAN [/underlined] Due to the very bright moon it was decided to dispense with flare illumination. The marking force was to drop Wanganui flares and Flame Floats near any large vessel seen, and the main force was to attack visually, running up-moon.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined] Weather over the target area was clear, but a thin layer of cloud at 15/20,000 feet diffused the moonlight, and made deceptive shadows on the water. Neither force could identify shipping clearly, but several large ships were bombed with unobserved results. One large merchantman off Moss may have been damaged by several near misses, and a small ship seen on the early night photographs had disappeared by the close of the attack.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] OPERATIONS. [/underlined]
[Underlined] HOUFFALIZE – 30/31ST DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
The target was a concentration of enemy armour, troops and supplies concentrated In and around a village a few miles North of Bastogne. 156 aircraft took off for an attack in the early hours of the morning.
[Underlined] PLAN [/underlined] The aiming point was to be marked with Red T.I. by Oboe aircraft, and crews were ordered to bomb direct. Due to the proximity of friendly troops, crews were ordered not to bomb unless the Red T.I. were positively identified.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined] 5 – 8/10ths cloud was encountered at the target, and only 90 aircraft bombed, reporting a good concentration of bombing around the markers. The remaining aircraft were unable to identify the Red T.I. so brought their bombs back to Base, as ordered.
[Underlined] OSLO FIORD – 31ST DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
A force of 28 aircraft took off in search of shipping, especially the cruiser Koln, in the Fiord, including 12 aircraft of No.617 Squadron carrying 12,000 lb Tallboy bombs.
[Underlined] PLAN [/underlined] Marker aircraft were to illuminate the area and mark the ships and cruiser with Wanganui Flares and Flame Floats. Bombing was to be visual in the light of further flares. The Tallboy bombs were fused .5 seconds delay so that they would explode 100 feet under water. The remaining aircraft carried 1000 lb MC/GP bombs fused TD .025.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined] Weather over the target area was clear, and the cruiser, together with several merchantmen were claimed as identified. The cruiser was under way during the attack, which made marking and bombing very difficult. Results of the attack on the cruiser were unobserved, but a near miss on a large ship by a Tallboy swung her 90° to starboard and brought her to a standstill.
[Underlined] SPECIAL OPERATIONS. [/underlined]
[Underlined] IJMUIDEN – 15TH DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
The target was the concrete E/R boat pens, and was attacked by No.617 Squadron carrying 12,000 lb Tallboy bombs. Hits were obtained and the pens suffered further severe damage.
[Underlined] ROTTERDAM – 29TH DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
No.617 Squadron carried out another precision attack with 12,000 lb Tallboy bombs, the target being the concrete E. boat pens. Crews reported concentrated bombing, and P.R.U. cover confirms a heavy concentration of craters on and around the target, and two out of the three sections of the pens have been severely damaged by direct hits.
[Underlined] OSLO – 31ST DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
No.627 Squadron celebrated New Year’s Eve by a pinpoint attack by 12 aircraft on the Gestapo Headquarters in Oslo. The attack
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] OPERATIONS. [/underlined]
was carried out in two waves of six aircraft, and all the first wave reported successful bombing. The second wave was hampered by smoke and dust from the bomb bursts, but two aircraft identified the target and bombed. Flak was intense and all the aircraft were hit, but returned to base safely. Rumours current in Stockholm suggest that the attack was highly successful.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Diagram] gardening
Unfavourable weather caused many operations to be cancelled at the beginning of the month, but when conditions improved on the 14th December the Group Gardeners ‘set to’ at such a pace that our previous record of 520 vegetables was in danger of being beaten before the end of the year.
Reviewing the month’s activity, all Gardeners have been most decidedly successful in planting 415 vegetables by 84 sorties in little over a fortnight. This total, 35.6% of the Command effort (1162), places 5 Group well in the can of Gardening operations, and is a commendable achievement befitting the end of a hard but memorable year of war.
[Underlined] 55 BASE [/underlined]
55 Base evenly distributed their effort by most Squadrons operating nine sorties each, visiting a selection of Kattegat and Eastern Baltic areas. On one occasion this was combined with a Group bombing force on an important Naval Base, which, in conjunction with 106 Squadron’s lay, a few days before, produced some highly satisfactory results, denying the use of the Port to the enemy and closing his Exercise Areas for U-boats and surface craft outside. Southern Norway also received attention in co-operation with other Groups, directed primarily against the movement of troops and material for the Wehrmacht from Norway to Denmark. There is conclusive evidence to show that shipping in the Fjords was seriously held up. The closing of the main ports and the consequent dislocation of traffic, had an even greater importance than the actual number of casualties caused.
[Underlined] 54 BASE. [/underlined]
54 Base have surpassed previous records by the excellent performance of 106 Squadron and the Mosquitos of 627 Squadron.
[Underlined] Fine Work by Metheringham. [/underlined]
R.A.F. Station, Metheringham, have repeatedly succeeded in lifting eleven maximum loads under difficult conditions, and on one occasion raised their record to fifteen Gardeners loaded at short notice and ready by ‘take-off’ time. These results cannot be obtained without the co-operation and hard work of the Ground and Armament staffs, who are to be congratulated on a fine month’s work.
[Underlined] 174 Vegetables Planted by a Single Squadron. [/underlined]
106 Squadron have had the busiest month of any Gardening Squadron on record, and have successfully planted a total of 174 vegetables for 36 sorties.
[Underlined] An Outstanding Operation. [/underlined]
Quite the most outstanding operation performed by 106 Squadron was their lone visit to the Eastern Baltic in the Privet and Spinach areas, when 15 Gardeners delivered their loads off an enemy port on a round trip of 1810 miles. Taking into consideration that no other Gardeners were in operation on this night, it stands as one of the greatest Squadron penetrations, and all who took part are to be congratulated on their effort.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] GARDENING. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Mosquitos. [/underlined]
627 Squadron were able to perform their first operation with Mosquitos on the 29th December, when Gardeners were briefed for an important river target, high on the priority list. Four Gardeners were very successful in planting their vegetables in the correct area without opposition, while three others unfortunately had difficulty in the area and returned with their loads. This unusual method of Gardening promises well for the future, as specially selected areas can be planted where it is bound to cause the greatest inconvenience and damage to enemy traffic. The results of this small scale planting were most effectively obtained for the cost of eight Vegetables. Time, opportunity and weather permitting, will tell its own story with regard to the menacing effects of Mosquito Gardening in the forthcoming year.
[Underlined] SQUADRON SORTIES. [/underlined]
[Table of Gardening Sorties by Squadron]
[Underlined] 5 GROUP CALENDAR – 1944. VEGETABLES SUCCESSFULLY PLANTED [/underlined]
January 25
February Nil
March Nil
April 388
May 520
June 30
July 64
August 260
Sept. 77
October 316
November 126
December 415
[Underlined] Total Planted – 2221 [/underlined]
[Underlined] GROUP MONTHLY SUMMARIES – DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
No.5 Group 415
No.6 Group 232
No.1 Group 212
No.3 Group 168
No.4 Group 135
[Underlined] GARDENING POINTS. [/underlined]
(i) Only one Vegetable had to be jettisoned “Safe”. This was done in the correct manner.
(ii) All Gardeners unable to pin-point their target by H2S or ‘Visual’ returned with their load in the correct manner, or laid in Secondary Gardens.
(iii) 97.4% of the Vegetables dropped were planted successfully.
(iv) 12 Gardening areas were visited this month, covering a mileage flown of 98,230 miles in 7 nights.
[Underlined] CONCLUSION. [/underlined]
Although it is difficult to appreciate the results of our efforts without conclusive proof of sinkings or damage, it is firmly believed that many plantings have brought great success. It is estimated that at present the rate of sinking and/or damage, to enemy ships stands at 46 Vegetables per ship. It can therefore be satisfactorily assessed that, by planting 2221 Vegetables in the past twelve months, 5 Group alone have accounted for no less than [underlined] 48 ships SUNK [/underlined] or [underlined] DAMAGED. [/underlined] This figure gives at least one ship per week, and does not take into account the dislocation of shipping caused through closed ports, ships waiting to be discharged, extensive minesweeping operations and heavy
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] GARDENING. [/underlined]
repair work, combined with the feeling that it will be for ever unsafe to travel at sea until the bitter struggle ceases.
In conclusion it may be safely be said that it has been a splendid Gardening Year, and that all Gardeners have indeed maintained their high standard of efficiency; let us continue to do so, and face the year of 1045 with ever increasing zeal to destroy and annoy our enemy’s shipping.
[Underlined] THE FOLLOWING CASUALTIES HAVE BEEN REPORTED. [/underlined]
A German steamer was mined and sunk five miles SW of South Langeland about 15th November, 1944.
German BRYNGE was mined and sunk in Kalundborg Fyord in Summer of 1942. This ship was reported as mined in July 1941.
German MAGDELINE VINNEN (4594 G.T.) was in dock in November, 1944, for extensive repairs after mining.
German TELDE was under repair after being mined. This ship was reported as mined on 13th October, 1943.
Danisg VIBORG (2028 G.T.) was mined (i) on 1st September, 1944, (ii) on 17th September, 1944. The vessel reached port under her own power and as far as can be seen she is undamaged.
A Danish broadcast of 13th December, 1944, reported that wreckage of the motor vessel GRETE (51 G.T) was found North of Laeso in the Kattegat.
The Danish PHONIX (895 G.T.) struck a mine and grounded off Hals on 4th November, 1944.
An unidentified German vessel was also damaged by a mine off Hals on 4th November, 1944.
The German steamer CONSTANZA was heavily damaged by a mine off Kullen on 1st December, 1944.
Several overlapping reports give the following casualties in Oslo Fjord during November, 1944:-
(a) A tug mined and sunk in Horten Inner harbour on 29th November.
(b) The SVEIN (119 G.T.) damaged by a mine off Gulholmen on 16th November.
(c) Two M.T.B’s sunk by mines in the harbour at Horten on 29th November.
(d) A small merchant ship mined and sunk near Veslos, Horten.
An unidentified Finnish vessel of about 1000 G.T. was damaged by a mine in Oslo Fjord on 14th December, 1944.
A Swedish broadcast on 18th December reported that the Norwegian EGORVUS arrived at Bergen on 4th December. The ship was badly damaged aft, probably by a mine.
A German ship HERMINA was sunk by a mine in Stettiner Haff on 19th August, 1944.
The German S.S. ARION (2297 G.T.) was damaged by a mine near Nordenham in the Weser estuary during October, 1944.
The German hospital ship MONTE ROSE (13,882 G.T.) arrived Moss in Oslo Fjord on 12th November following repairs at Akers to make good damage caused by mining.
The Norwegian NINA (1,487 G.T.) was damaged by a mine off Schultzegrund on 27th October, 1944.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Drawing] signals
1944 was a memorable year in the Signals life of the Group, and we can look back with satisfaction on such accomplishments as the general installation of V.H.F. R/T equipment and Loran into all aircraft in the Group; the improvements obtained by the Coningsby Radar Development Party in the performance of H2S Mark III; and the evolution of the ideal technique of W/T control in the target area. Let us take each of these four items in turn, and see if there are any lessons to be learnt.
[Underlined] V.H.F. R/T. [/underlined]
When No.617 Squadron were carrying out training for their famous attack on the German Dams, it became obvious that the existing bomber R/T (T.R.1196) was incapable of providing the efficient inter-aircraft R/T communication required, owing to severe interference experienced at night on the frequency band used. The V.H.F. R/T set T.R.1143 was therefore fitted, and gave excellent results. V.H.F. R/T was used by 617 Squadron for several other special operations. In April, 1944, 5 Group began operating as a separate force on special targets – carrying out their own marking and controlling. It was decided that aircraft of the Illuminating and Controlling team should be equipped with V.H.F. R/T and the remainder of the force be controlled by W/T.
[underlined] H2S Interference. [/underlined]
All Lancaster aircraft of Nos.83 and 97 Squadrons were, therefore, equipped with T.R.1143 V.H.F. R/T sets. This was the first occasion on which V.H.F. R/T sets had been fitted to aircraft carrying the H2S equipment, and on the first operation it was found that very severe interference was caused to the V.H.F. R/T by the H2S. Test proved that the interference was being picked up by the base of the V.H.F. aerial which protruded through the aircraft skin near the H2S set. All V.H.F. aerials were immediately mounted outside the aircraft skin and this cured the trouble.
[Underlined] Main Force Fitting Programme. [/underlined]
In June 1944 it was decided to fit all the remaining aircraft of 5 Group with V.H.F. R/T, and by the end of July this fitting programme was completed – thanks to the good work of a small 26 Group fitting party, and to the enthusiastic support of individual Squadron Signal Sections.
[Underlined] Removal of S.B.A. [/underlined]
To ease the burden on these sections and to put an end to much useless waste of energy and material, S.B.A. equipment was removed from all 5 Group aircraft.
[Underlined] Inadvertent Radiation of Intercomm. [/underlined]
Airborne R/T equipment is normally operated by the pilot, and he must be able to change from receive to transmit with the
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] SIGNALS. [/underlined]
minimum of trouble. A small “press to speak” switch is therefore mounted on the control wheel, the mere pressing of which actuates a relay which causes the V.H.F. R/T to radiate. Occasionally relays come out of adjustment and occasionally pilots squeeze the “press to speak” switch unknowingly. It is not surprising, therefore, that we soon had cases of crew intercomm. being radiated continuously in the target area – almost completely ruining the control R/T. The ease with which the unwitting culprits were tracked down by their nicknames indicated a somewhat lax crew discipline.
The first countermeasure was an order to the effect that all transmitter crystals were to be removed from main force aircraft. This action proved to be an effective cure, but placed an added burden on the Wireless Mechanics. Bardney produced the answer – the fitting of a simple switch in the transmitter H.T. circuit – accessible from inside the aircraft. In all main force aircraft this switch is sealed in the off position after each D.I. check. In aircraft which may have to transmit the switch is placed in the on position. This scheme still left 20 or 30 aircraft liable to radiate intercom., and in spite of careful briefing and especial care of relays, the inevitable occurred and another operation was nearly ruined by one of the Illuminating Force radiating intercom. throughout the attack. Woodhall Spa produced the cure this time in the shape of a neon indicator which illuminated the words “Check VHF” everytime [sic] the V.H.F. R/T set was in the transmit condition.
[Underlined] Enemy Freya Interference. [/underlined]
During an attack in September, unusually severe interference was experienced from enemy Freya transmissions occurring on our V.H.F. R/T frequencies. With the prospect of an increasing number of operations over Freya Territory, this interference constituted a serious threat, and Headquarters, Bomber Command, made immediate arrangements for R.A.E. Farnborough to find a cure. Tests soon proved that the inclusion of a simple device known as a “series limitor” would completely eliminate Freya interference.
[Underlined] All aircraft change over to American SCR.522 sets. [/underlined]
Fortunately for 5 Group this modification coincided with the decision of higher authority to refit all our aircraft with the American V.H.F. R/T set SCR.552. This new set was already fitted with the series limitor. During the night of the 16th October the colossal task of setting up and changing 350 aircraft V.H.F. R/T sets was accomplished without a hitch. All pilots expressed themselves as highly satisfied with the excellent performance of the American sets, but there was a general complaint regarding the fact that the incoming V.H.F. R/T signals tended to swamp crew intercom. We were told to adjust the pre-set volume control in the set!
[Underlined] Effect of Icing on V.H.F. R/T Aerials. [/underlined]
The advent of winter and resulting increase in icing risks was brought home on the night 19/20th October when a large number of V.H.F. R/T aerials broke off. Our friends at R.A.E. once more came into the breach and quickly produced a modified form of mounting for the whip aerials so that they really could whip and thus prevent ice accretion. All aircraft are now being so modified as fast as the necessary parts arrive.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] SIGNALS. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Pilots’ Manual Volume Control. [/underlined]
No matter how carefully the pre-set volume control was adjusted it was found that it was impossible to cater for all requirements, and pilots continued to complain of the loud V.H.F. R/T signals jamming vital crew intercom. As a result of a unanimous demand from Bases made at the November Group Signals Conference, a number of volume controls were received for trial. These trials resulted in an immediate plea for general fitting throughout all Group aircraft, and this was acceded to.
[Underlined] R/T Speech Training. [/underlined]
The best R/T equipment – like the ordinary trunk telephone must be met half way with properly articulated speech. The average airman does not possess a natural telephone voice but the excellent R/T speech training unit at Woodlands, Stanmore, soon remedies this. During 1944 [underlined] 140 [/underlined] pilots of 5 Group have benefited from the instruction given by this School.
[Underlined] FINALE. [/underlined]
The closing days of 1944 thus found the final chapter of our V.H.F. R/T story completed – a pilots’ volume control – no more inadvertent radiation of intercom. – no more Freya or H2S interference – no more broken aerials – just perfectly clear R/T at a strength to suit all pilots.
It has been an interesting story and it is hoped that those about to sample the joys of V.H.F. R/T in bomber aircraft will benefit from our experiences.
[Underlined] THE DEVELOPMENT OF W/T CONTROL TECHNIQUE. [/underlined]
At first sight it would appear to be a simple matter to arrange for one aircraft to control 250 other aircraft in the target area by W/T. The T.1154/R.1155 W/T equipment carried by our Lancasters is very efficient and easy to manipulate, and the W/T frequencies available to the Group are as clear of interference as one can expect these days. It was found by grim experience, however, that the accuracy of tuning by the average operator was below the standard required for control purposes. On more than one occasion, we regret to say, the control operator was as much as 30 kc/s off frequency – with the result that few aircraft received the control signals.
[Underlined] Crystal Monitor. [/underlined]
It was found that the only certain way of ensuring that the control operator was precisely on frequency was to resurrect the crystal monitor type 2, and make him tune the transmitter by plugging his phones into the crystal monitor and tuning his transmitter to the dead space.
[Underlined] Crystal Controlled Transmitters. [/underlined]
This scheme proved a complete cure, but was rather cumbersome and profiting by Binbrook’s experiments, a number of Controllers’ W/T transmitters were modified for crystal control. All that was necessary was to plug the appropriate crystal into the master oscillator grid circuit. This certainly simplified the tuning problem, but deprived the operator of listening-through facilities, and also his ability to hear his own morse. This latter failing resulted in the transmission of poor morse, so the scheme was abandoned and we reverted to the crystal monitor.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] SIGNALS. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Transmission of Perfect Morse. [/underlined]
The job of finding W/T operators capable of transmitting perfect morse under rather nerve wracking conditions was slightly more difficult that the problem of accurate tuning. Operators who produced copy-book morse in the Squadron Training Room were sometimes found to possess nerves when they remembered that 250 other operators and several ground stations including Group Headquarters were hanging on every dot they made. A special test for Controller Operators was therefore introduced, covering morse, tuning ability, and correct procedure. During 1944, a total of 170 W/T Operators in the Group successfully passed the rigorous test, and many of these operators have since proved themselves on actual controlled operations.
[Underlined] Control Procedure. [/underlined]
To ensure that all aircraft W/T receivers are accurately tuned, the control operator transmits six callsigns a few minutes before target time. This transmission also enables the deputy control operator to check the tuning, and also to take over control if the transmissions are not heard. Thereafter throughout the attack, the control operator transmits two callsigns every minute unless control code signals are being handled. This scheme was evolved to enable W/T operators to concentrate on their tail warning device without missing any W/T signals.
[Underlined] Control Code. [/underlined]
To ensure speed and security, a special three-letter code covering all eventualities likely to arise during the illuminating, locating, marking and destroying of targets was evolved. A new code is used for each operation.
[Underlined] Deliberate Enemy Jamming. [/underlined]
To counter possible attempts by the enemy to jam the control frequency, an elaborate system of alternative frequencies and W/T guards is laid on for each operation, but happily, so far (touching wood) we have only been ‘jostled’ into doing this on two occasions and each time the scheme worked satisfactorily. We now realise just how effective 100 Group’s Countermeasure ‘Jostle’ really is!
[Underlined] Enemy Spoofing. [/underlined]
The Hun is quite capable of attempting to spoil a controlled attack by putting out spoof transmissions on our frequencies. To counter such attempts operators are reminded of the challenge procedure used with SD.0182 verification tables. No such attempt has, however, ever been made.
[Underlined] RESULTS [/underlined]
With the experience of 170 successful controlled attacks behind us in 1944, it can be said that we now have a system which is guaranteed to produce excellent morse, precisely on frequency and at the exact time required. It has resulted in the birth of a brand of wireless operator of an efficiency far exceeding that attained in the old days of perpetual W/T silence. The never failing manner in which diversion signals, wind messages and ‘target attacked’ signals are handled reflects the effect which the 5 Group Signals procedure has had on its wireless operators. Their morale was never higher and their keenness never greater. They are a credit to the Radio Schools, O.T.U’s and Conversion Units who produced them. May they keep it up in 1945.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] SIGNALS. [/underlined]
[Underlined] H.2.S. MARK III. [/underlined]
In August, 1944, it was decided to exploit the blind bombing potentialities of H2S Mark III to the full, and resultant action took two parallel courses, viz:-
(a) An intensive training programme for set operators, with the object of thoroughly familiarising them with the equipment.
(b) Considerable cleaning up of the equipment to obtain increased accuracy, improved presentation and high sensitivity. This latter programme consisted of the selection of the most efficient units from the available H2S equipment and their embodiment into one aircraft installation, coupled with a detailed bench setting procedure.
This work naturally clashed with the prevailing shortage of Radar Mechanics. This was overcome by attachments from the Headquarters, Bomber Command, Radar Development Party, and from No.53 Base, as a result of a decision to curtail the fitting of H2S within that Base. Bench and workshop accommodation was extended in sympathy with the manpower increase.
Flight tests and H2S photography soon demonstrated that the scanner was a definite weakness in the equipment. Severe gaps appeared in the P.P.I. presentation, which made an accurate bombing run exceedingly difficult. Two mechanics under T.R.E. direction constructed a scanner tester with which the scanners could be tested on the ground. The gaps in the polar diagram were filled in by means of a sheet of perspex mounted on the face of the mirror, the ideal position of which was fond by trial and error. This treatment was successful with approximately 50% of the scanners.
[Underlined] The Perfect Scanner. [/underlined]
At this time a perfect scanner was loaned to Coningsby by T.R.E., and flight trials soon demonstrated that the adjective “perfect” was not an exaggeration. As a result, action was taken with our local manufacturer to cast a mirror to the perfect mirror. Trials with the cast mirror were carried out with the resultant paradox that the polar diagram was an improvement over the original. The production of cast mirrors was extended, and operational results proved that the presentation obtained was the best ever.
This labour reaped its dividends in no uncertain fashion; the ability of the operators to obtain best results from the equipment under operational conditions, coupled with the increased efficiency and accuracy of the equipment, were producing remarkably low bombing errors. Figures of a 300 yards error on the live bombing range were by no means uncommon. A still more satisfying substantiation, of course, came from the raid results.
[Underlined] H2S MARK IIIE. [/underlined]
In parallel with this improvement programme, two mechanics have been attached to T.R.E. to construct two sets of H2S Mark IIIE under T.R.E direction. Their work was completed in November, and the equipment transferred to Coningsby, where flight trials proved that it was vastly superior to H2S Mark III, and possessed the added advantage of requiring a less detailed setting up procedure. It is hoped to continue this story at a later date.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] SIGNALS. [/underlined]
[Underlined] LORAN. [/underlined]
As the operational policy of ‘evasion’ developed, Radar transmissions became more and more restricted, and as a reult [sic] it was decided to install Loran in all aircraft of No.5 Group. This was a bold decision, because the equipment had not been adequately proved operationally, and the prospects of jamming were menacing.
The fitting was carried out in two phases, as equipment became available. Firstly in Nos. 53 and 54 Bases, and finally in Nos. 55 and 56. Each programme was completed rapidly as a result of excellent co-operation between the Engineering and Signals Branches.
[Underlined] Teething Troubles. [/underlined]
Initial results were not so good; Loran required longer manipulation than Gee, and while targets were within Gee coverage, the new equipment did not offer much temptation. Furthermore, the divider circuits were temperamental and suitable areas for training were too far away to allow training flights to be carried out. However, a successful raid on Munich proved the worth of the equipment, and instated it as a very necessary aid outside the limits of Gee coverage. Each navigator was issued with a screwdriver and was instructed in the art of setting dividers in the air.
The trailing aerial was a nuisance. One very vicious specimen, which brought matters to a head “collected large lumps of Window, which jammed the aerial when the wireless operator attempted to wind it in when approaching the target. He succeeded in cutting it away whereupon it jammed the bomb doors; it was cut loose again and it wrapped itself around the rear turret”. Experiments were carried out, as a result of which it was found practicable to use the 27 ft. forward suspension of the T.R.1196 aerial and a suitable loading unit. This modification has been passed to Bomber Command.
A similar aerial was developed for Mosquito aircraft, for which the internal aerial for Loran had proved unsatisfactory.
H2S interference has been experienced. A modification to suppress the receiver during the H2S transmissions has been found successful on the bench, and is undergoing air tests.
[Underlined] Prospects. [/underlined]
It is a simple device to maintain, and in these days of acute shortage of Radar Mechanics, that is an important factor. It does not radiate any energy and is therefore quite safe to use on our deepest penetrations. We look forward to doing great things with Loran in 1945.
[Underlined] TELECOMMUNICATIONS. [/underlined]
1944 saw the final completion of the Base organisation, and the resolution of all queries concerning the positioning of Ops. switchboards and the occupation of Secon huts – both of which caused a considerable amount of heartburn and one time or another. The year saw only one new change, and this was the introduction of a new scheme to speed up the passing of operational information to Bases and Stations. New? We were told that we were going back to 1939 by introducing this scheme but whether new or old it has served one purpose very well.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] SIGNALS. [/underlined]
Prior to January, 1944, all operational “gen” had been passed by “scrambler” to Base or parent stations, and passed on by the latter to stations or satellites, and a very cumbersome and doubtful method it was. On at least one occasion the omission of the word “if” nearly wrecked an operation. Delays were excessive and the whole system needed a thorough overhaul.
It was decided, therefore, to enlist the aid of the teleprinter network, and the first move at Group was to put an ops. teleprinter in a specially built cubicle adjacent to the Ops. planning room. Bases and Stations were then asked to take similar action, which by hook or by crook they speedily carried out. The final step was to arrange for a simultaneous broadcast to all Bases and Stations and this presented some difficulties, because half the Group was still in the parent/satellite stage. Nevertheless, the difficulties were soon overcome, and the scheme became a working proposition.
The advantages have been manifest from the outset. Messages are handed to the teleprinter operator as soon as they are written out, and are teleprinted at once. The broadcast remains set up as long as planning continues, and handles no other traffic; it is strictly unidirectional. The moment messages are received at Bases and Stations they are handed into the Ops. Room. Thus the overall delay has been cut to the absolute minimum. At the same time speech circuits and “scrambler” phones have been relieved of a tremendous load, and are free for conferences and for the passing of sudden changes of planning detail. In addition to these points, the broadcast network has proved so efficient that operations can now be laid on at extremely short notice, e.g. thirty minutes between time of laying on and time of Flight Planning, a state of affairs quite unthinkable more than 12 months ago.
[Underlined] SIGNALS SECURITY. [/underlined]
Now that the Hun has lost his radiolocation network in France and the Low Countries, it is more than ever necessary that the maintenance of R/T, W/T and Radar silence should be strictly applied in accordance with briefing instructions. He must also never be allowed to note the difference between an operational and a non-operational day. In this connection, the following inadvertent radiation of intercom. on H/F R/T was actually heard by Waddington during a recent daylight operational take off:-
First Dim Wit: “What is going on down there?”
Second Dim Wit: “It is an Ops take off.”
First Dim Wit: “Where are we?”
Second Dim Wit: “Waddington.”
First Dim Wit: “I suppose their satellite is u/s.”
Needless to say, callsigns were not employed in this tea-time chatter otherwise there would have been most serious repercussions for someone.
[Underlined] CODES AND CYPHERS. [/underlined]
1944 saw a radical change in the cypher policy in Bomber Command. In January all cypher facilities were withdrawn from Stations, and Group assumed the responsibility for this traffic, transmitting it to Bases in plain language either by “scrambler”, teleprinter or postagram.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] SIGNALS. [/underlined]
This released two Section Officers from each Base, who were replaced by one Flight Officer, who became a librarian of all secret and confidential publications.
Early in the year R.A.F. Cypher Sergeants were posted into the Group to gain experience before overseas service, and they are now doing vital work in our forward communications in the battle zone.
Life went on uneventfully at Group until shortly before ‘D’ Day, when only the chosen few and the cypher officers knew the actual time and date of the invasion.
And then again, from early in September until the sinking of the Tirpitz, the Group Cypher Office enjoyed a spell of heavy traffic. After some difficulty in obtaining speedy transmission of messages, direct communication was obtained with Archangel, thus making it possible to deliver in Russia deciphered messages within one hour of origination.
It is occasions like these that relieve the dull monotony of a Cypher Officer’s life – the perpetual routine messages and amending and checking of documents – and make them feel that they are perhaps of some slight use.
[Underlined] WIRELESS OPERATORS (AIR) [/underlined]
Throughout December a large decrease in the number of W/T Controllers’ tests, due to adverse weather conditions, has shown that every available opportunity must be taken by the wireless operator (air) to carry out these tests. This requires good co-operation between the Signals Leader and the Squadron and Flight Commanders, and Signals Leaders must ensure that they carry out their part in placing all their requirements before these people, who will do their best to meet these requirements.
During December, 20 tests were carried out, and of these, 16 passed as fit for W/T Controller’s duties. The Squadrons who carried out these successful tests were:-
83 Squadron – 4
97 Squadron – 1
44 Squadron – 2
57 Squadron – 4
630 Squadron – 2
227 Squadron – 1
50 Squadron – 2
Controlled Operations.
Reception of W/T messages transmitted by the W/T Links was again very satisfactory. The standard of operating by the Link operators was quite good, though there is still room for improvement in procedure. Study of 5 Group Air Staff Instructions Sigs/1, and constant practice will eliminate these small mistakes. The transmission of the “Target Attacked” signals presents no problems to our operators, and we are
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] SIGNALS. [/underlined]
happy to state that up to date there have been no failures in this respect – keep it up.
[Underlined] Group W/T Exercise. [/underlined]
Despite the re-arranging of sections and times of this exercise, the results are far from satisfactory. Signals Leaders must have a drive on getting every Wireless Operator (Air) in their squadrons to take part in at least one exercise per month. The number of crews per squadron are such that, even if they have been operating the previous night there should still be available a quota of operators to carry out these exercises the following morning. If they are being detailed for other duties, point out the requirements of this exercise to your Squadron Commander. He will co-operate.
[Underlined] Points for Signals Leaders. [/underlined]
During the past year, Wireless Operators (Air) of this Group have shown that they can carry out most duties assigned to them, but a summary of the year’s work reveals that there are still a few loopholes in their work which require filling up. For instance, the number of manipulation failures for the year was 20. Now this is a very small percentage of the sorties flown, but it can and must be reduced until in 5 Group such a thing as a manipulation failure ceases to exist. Never let it be said that the equipment is better than the man. Also, the reception of, and action on, diversion messages still leaves much to be desired. These, and other weak points can only be overcome by proper instruction and practice.
[Underlined] Categorisation. [/underlined]
Now that the majority of Squadrons have an Analysis Officer attached for categorisation duties, the results of their labour should soon be forthcoming and all Wireless Operators categorised when they arrive on the Squadron, and at their 10, 20 and 30 sortie checks. The standard categorisation paper has met with universal approval and it now rests with the Signals Leader and his assistant to ensure that these tests are carried out as instructed.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] navigation
[Underlined] REVIEW OF NAVIGATION FOR THE YEAR, 1944. [/underlined]
During the past 12 months many innovations and improvements in Navigation have been initiated by No. 5 Group. The most notable of these are:-
(i) Introduction of the A.P.I. attachment, which ensures more accurate windfinding for bombing.
(ii) Introduction of the A.P.I. and A.P.I. attachment windfinding drills.
(iii) A reduction in the practice bombing vector error from 9 m.p.h. in January to 3.4 m.p.h. in December as a result of (i) and (ii) above. Also a corresponding decrease in the operational bombing wind finding errors, although this fact is difficult to determine for obvious reasons.
(iv) New log and chart work procedure, in which all duplication of work is eliminated.
(v) Introduction of the Categorisation scheme.
(vi) Appointment of Navigation Analysis Officers.
(vii) Reduction of the “Spread” of aircraft on operations from a concentration box 100 miles x 50 miles in January to a concentration box 50 miles x 25 miles in December. (Room for still more improvement here).
(viii) Elimination of Astro and a consequent increased amount of time available for teaching more essential subjects.
The most notable of these new activities were the Categorisation Scheme, coupled with the appointment of Analysis Officers and the monumental decrease in bombing wind finding errors. They have greatly increased the standard of navigation and bombing accuracy.
This improvement in navigation must continue and be accelerated. Suggestions as to how the present standard and technique can be further improved will be welcomed. So, go to it, and don’t be afraid to voice your opinions and suggestions – and make sure that 1945 is a year of Victory.
[Underlined] IMPORTANCE OF ACCURATE TRACK KEEPING AND TIMING. [/underlined]
The general standard of track keeping and timing which was achieved on the shorter range operations is still being maintained on the longer range sorties we are now undertaking. There are [underlined] STILL, [/underlined] however, a few STRAGGLERS. No matter what is said or done either by Group Headquarters or the Station and Squadron Navigation Officers the percentage of stragglers still remains the same. A few of them are unavoidable, e.g. genuine compass failure, late take off, failure of all Navigation instruments combined with sudden wind change; but the majority are due either to poor and indifferent navigation or else a lack of understanding of modern tactics.
Aircraft in the concentration enjoy first the protection afforded by other aircraft, second the protection of “Window” and
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] NAVIGATION. [/underlined]
third the protection of the countermeasures provided by No.100 Group aircraft. It is therefore impossible for a fighter, once he has got into the stream, to home on to an individual aircraft in that concentration. On the other hand, it will be very simple for the fighter to home on to any straggler, because that aircraft will be isolated from the concentration and will therefore stand out. This applies to aircraft who are out in timing, as well as off track.
Concentration in both track keeping and timing is also a safeguard against flak. It is obvious that a compact mass of aircraft will completely black out a Cathode Ray tube, and make it impossible for any one aircraft to be singled out for attack. Also it is equally obvious that the chance of being hit is considerably diminished as all aircraft are passing through the defended area in a very short space of time.
So now you know!! Keep on track and on time throughout the whole operation and minimise tour chance of being shot down.
[Underlined] PRACTICE BOMBING VECTOR ERRORS. [/underlined]
The average vector error obtained by squadrons this month is 4 m.p.h. exactly. This figure is an increase of .2 m.p.h. on last month’s figure. It is only fair to state, however, that much of the practice bombing this month has been done by the new crews, and this fact may account for the slight increase in the vector error. Remember the goal we set ourselves last month – an average vector error of below 3 m.p.h. Can we achieve it? The answer is YES – but only if EVERY navigator does his very best on every exercise. Let us start the New Year well and achieve our goal in the first month.
[Table of Average Practice Vector Errors by Squadron]
97 Squadron have been rising rapidly in this table and have now reached second place. Well done, and it is hoped that your ambition does not end there, but that you will go on and beat 9 Squadron, who have held the lead for seven consecutive months.
No.56 Base are still in the bottom half of the list. Next month we hope to see all their squadrons at least six places higher. What about it, No.56 Base?
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] THIS MONTH’S Bouquets [Drawing]
The names of the eight navigators, two from each Base, who submitted the best work this month are set out below. They have been chosen for their consistently accurate and methodical work, which includes good track keeping and timing, constant wind velocity and ETA checks and log and chart work of a very high order.
F/Sgt. Leigh – 106 Squadron
S/Ldr. Burnside – 97 Squadron
F/O. Reeves – 61 Squadron
F/Sgt. Edwards – 467 Squadron
F/Sgt. Treadwell – 189 Squadron
Sgt. Smith – 49 Squadron
W/O. Rose – 619 Squadron
F/Lt. De Friend DFM – 57 Squadron
P/O Searle, 227 Squadron, who has appeared in the last two summaries and W/O Murray, 50 Squadron, who appeared in the last summary, have both again submitted work of an exceptionally high standard. This is an excellent performance on the part of these two navigators and we congratulate them.
They have been omitted from this month’s list however, so as to give the remainder of the Group a chance!
[Underlined] UNION NEWS. [/underlined]
F/Lt. De Friend, D.F.M. – No.57 Squadron Navigation Officer, to be Station Navigation Officer, Fulbeck. Now S/Ldr.
[Underlined] ANALYSIS AND CATEGORISATION. [/underlined]
The Navigation Analysis is going very well. Analysis Officers on all Squadrons are doing an important job in a very efficient manner. Theirs is a tiresome and tedious job, but, if it is done conscientiously and well, it will pay handsome dividends in the form of better and more accurate navigation. It is to be hoped that all navigators are taking advantage of this extra service and are liaisoning [sic] with the analysis officers. Listen to what they have to say, note where you lost marks on your last sortie, and then follow their recommendations, and those if the Station Navigation Officer.
Lack of system is causing an appreciable loss of marks to some navigators, this applies particularly to the new crews. Working to a system will halve your navigational difficulties. The time to complete each cycle of operations is left for you to decide, but it is always best to work on an easy fraction of an hour, e.g. 10, 12 or 15 minutes. No system should have a time interval of more than 15 minutes.
The categorisation scheme has been in operation for 4 months
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] NAVIGATION. [/underlined]
now and is well established. It is interesting to note that over this period, the number of “A+” and “A” category navigators has risen from 116 (12 Squadrons) to 203 (14 Squadrons), and the number of “C” and “D” category navigators has been reduced from 63 (12 Squadrons) to 28 (14 Squadrons). These figures are very encouraging. We should, however, have NO “C” or “D” navigators in the Group. Station Navigation Officers and Analysis Officers must concentrate on these crews until they reach at least the “B” category.
[Underlined] BRIEFING. [/underlined]
It has often been said that a really first class briefing is half the operation. Whether that statement is strictly accurate or not is difficult to say, but it is a fact that a well briefed crew has a far better chance of completing a successful sortie, no matter how adverse the conditions, than a badly briefed crew.
One or two navigation briefings which have been attended during the last month have been below the standard required. Station and Squadron Navigation Officers must pay particular attention to this aspect of their work. The most noticeable faults of briefing officers are:-
(i) Speaking too quickly;
(ii) Not raising their voice;
(iii) Speaking with a cigarette or pipe in the mouth;
(iv) Rushing through important details and not repeating them at least once;
(v) Failing to give a little advice on navigational details, particularly to the inexperienced navigators.
Navigation officers, do any of these faults apply to you? If so, then remedy them immediately, and give your navigators a chance. Squadron Navigation Officers should detail two deputies and train them to give a good briefing, so that a high standard will always be maintained.
Navigators do you always get the most out of each briefing? Do you listen to all the valuable information and advice given you and do you use it, or are you one of those people who knows all the answers and just don’t listen to the briefing officer. If so, then revise your ideas immediately. No matter how rushed you are, always listen to the Briefing Officer and make notes of all the important points. That extra 10 minutes attention in the briefing room will save you many a headache on the operation. Once you are airborne it is too late to remember something which you forgot to ask in the briefing room.
[Underlined] SAFETY HEIGHTS. [/underlined]
With the present tactics of flying low over parts of the Continent, it is essential to know the safety heights along the route. Do YOU always note the safety heights along the track and also for a distance 20 or 30 miles either side of track, just in case? Mark the spot heights in feet, on your plotting chart. This will act as a double check.
Several reports have been received from crews in recent weeks of aircraft crashing into high ground when flying low. None of these reports have yet been corroborated, but they may be true. So take warning and don’t end your days on the side of a mountain. It’s too cold this weather anyway.
Remember that spot heights on a topographical map of the Continent are always given in metres, with the exception of the Straits
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] NAVIGATION. [/underlined]
of Dover sheet. All spot heights for Great Britain are given in feet.
[Underlined] SELF-ANALYSIS CHART. [/underlined]
Here is the second analysis chart fir you to complete. If you missed the fist one for any reason look it up now and answer those questions too.
(i) Have you read and do you know all the Air Staff Instructions and 5 Group Drills which apply to YOU?
(ii) Do you know all your compass drills?
(iii) Do you know the maximum coverage of each Gee chain and which is the best chain to use over (a) North Western Germany, (b) Southern France, (c) Frisian Islands, (d) Paris area, (e) North West Denmark?
(iv) Do you know the maximum height at which H2S should be switched on?
(v) Do you know the position on the return journey of an operation, from which you are allowed to relax your timing? Do you know why you are allowed to relax timing from this position, and why this position was chosen?
(vi) Do you know [underlined] all [/underlined] the Group flight plan speeds for climbing, diving, straight and level flight, with and without a bomb load?
(vii) Do you always fill in your Form 2330 correctly and hand it to the Me. Officer on return?
(viii) Do you always pass the drift to the pilot after each alteration of course, especially on the run up to the target?
(ix) Do you always check your altimeter with the pilot’s when descending, and do you regularly check your A.S.I. with the pilot’s? When there is a discrepancy between the two A.S.I’s which do you take as being accurate?
(x) Do you always make allowance for time of turn when altering course, e.g. 1/4 minute before E.T.A. for turns up to 30°, 1/2 minute between 31° and 60°, and 3/4 minute between 61° and 100°
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] radar nav:
[Underlined] REVIEW FOR THE YEAR 1944. [/underlined]
During the past 12 months considerable strides have been made by No.5 Group both with the introduction of new Radar navigational aids, and in the use of those that existed prior to the beginning of the year. The most notable have been:-
(i) The introduction of H2S MK.II into Nos. 44, 207 and 619 Squadrons.
(ii) The introduction of H2S MK.III into No.54 Base.
(iii) The introduction of an H2S categorisation scheme at Coningsby in order to ascertain the most efficient blind marker crews.
(iv) Experiments at Coningsby to determine the efficiency of H2S MK.III and the production of specially selected MK.III equipment to give far more efficient blind marking than before.
(v) Incorporation of the 184 indicator in H2S MK.III, which has enabled a blind bombing technique of releasing direct on the response to the developed to a high standard of proficiency. [sic]
(vi) The introduction of H2S photography both on MK.II and MK.III squadrons from which it has been possible to ascertain the positions of release of mines and T.I’s and also give us considerable H2S cover of the Continent.
(vii) The introduction of the R.F. Unit 27 for use with the Gee receiver.
(viii) Consequent upon the invasion of Europe, the introduction of Continental Gee chains which give more accurate coverage over Western Germany.
(ix) The introduction of Loran, which has resulted in long distance fixing, and a consequent improvement in D.R. navigation.
(x) The appointment of Station Radar Navigation Officers who are responsible for the application of, and training in, Radar Navigational aids throughout the Group.
Most notable of the above activities were the experiments at Coningsby, which have resulted in a considerable decrease in blind marking errors, and have produced equipment which has given far better responses on the H2S MK.III P.P.I. than ever before. Coupled with this is the introduction of Loran into the whole of the aircraft in No.5 Group, which has further raised the standard of navigation, and resulted in fixes being obtained over various areas of enemy territory with considerable success and without enemy interference of any kind. This was an ambitious scheme as it involved the fitting of all aircraft and the training of all navigators within a period of six to eight weeks, and great credit is due to the Radar sections and Loran Instructors for carrying it out without a hitch.
This improvement in navigation must continue and be accelerated in the forth coming year, not only by the introduction of new Radar
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] RADAR NAVIGATION. [/underlined]
navigational aids, but by the raising of the standard of efficiency of the present equipment. Suggestions as to how this can be done will be welcome. Do not be afraid to let us have your ideas and opinions. No matter how trivial they may seem to you, they may have far reaching effects if applied throughout the whole Group. If you do this far better Radar navigation facilities may come into being, and possibly help to win the victory this year.
[Underlined] LORAN. [/underlined]
The majority of operators have made good use of this aid during the month and much information has been obtained on the operational value of the chain.
A summary of results obtained on the three long range operations is as follows:-
[Underlined] MUNICH [/underlined] Rate 4 signals, particularly the Master signal, were weaker than usual with considerable splitting, thus decreasing the value of the S.S. Chain as a whole on this particular sortie. Rate 5 signals were much stronger than previously reported, perhaps due to the southerly route taken. Investigations have been made into the possible causes of the difficulties experienced and have rather indicated that weather conditions were the primary cause of the Rate 4 signals’ weakness, as the worst meteorological conditions lay between the Rate 4 Master Station and the route taken. A plot of the first and last fixes taken on this operation indicates, however, that despite the difficulties outlined, Loran could have been used from 0400E on the outward route on 0700E on the return route. It is apparent from this plot that many operators did not make full use of this aid, and it can only be assumed that they did not persevere with the equipment to ensure fixing at frequent intervals.
The procedure of watching the signals and taking readings between splitting cannot be too highly stressed. A visit to the Radar Section at night now and again and watching the S.S. Loran Chain on the bench set will prove of great value if you wish to become really efficient on this excellent navigational aid.
[Underlined] GDYNIA & POLITZ [/underlined] Much to the surprise of the majority of Loran operators exceptional coverage was obtained on these attacks. Although the routes lay mainly outside the service area, signals were strong and fairly easily recognisable, and a considerable number of operators were able to obtain fixes from the Danish Coast to the target and return. Once again, however, the first and last fixes plotted indicate that operators are not persevering. It is appreciated that many little difficulties crop up in flight but when Loran is the only aid available there can be little excuse for not endeavouring to use it.
It should be possible to obtain a first and last fix plot which shows a concentration of fixes at the point of entry into the service area and another concentration at the target. Whether or not this can be achieved is entirely up to the skill and initiative of every individual operator.
The main snags encountered on operations this month were:-
(i) Incorrect alignment of dividers.
(ii) Dampness.
(iii) H2S interference.
(iv) Difficulties with the trailing aerial.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] RADAR NAVIGATION. [/underlined]
Divider trouble appears to be an inherent fault of this equipment and has occurred more frequently in the past few weeks due to dampness. Switching the set on and leaving it for a little while to dry out may cure the trouble due to dampness. If the set does not react, then it is up to the operator to carry out the correct alignment procedure. Screwdrivers are trickling through slowly, and when all operators are equipped failures due to divider trouble should be things of the past.
In addition to divider trouble, there are still some operators who report equipment unserviceable although on check nothing can be found wrong. In the majority of these cases the remedy is simple such as turning up the brilliance, switching on the master switch, or checking and replacing blown fuses – small points but essential ones, and if you know your Loran Aircraft Drill you should have little trouble from this source.
As regards snags (ii) to (iv) the Radar Sections are working out means of counteracting efficiently the snags which have cropped up from these sources, and we expect to hear of their solution any day. 55 Base are busy with a fixed aerial which has already been used on operations with success.
Further trials are to be carried out and if successful it is intended to adopt this aerial throughout Group.
[Underlined] GEE. [/underlined]
Gee has again proved the most valuable navigation aid during the month, although from maximum fix plots it is evident that operators are still failing to obtain maximum coverage from the Continental chains.
With little or no jamming reported on the Continental chains there should be little difficulty in obtaining fixes to maximum range, and the spread between maximum fixes obtained by squadrons should be less than 1/2 a degree and not 3 degrees as is the case at the present time. The fact that all squadrons are also using Loran should not prevent operators from obtaining an occasional Gee fix as a check.
Due to circumstances beyond control, one of the Ruhr Gee Chain Stations has had to be moved away from the vicinity of the front line. This Stations [sic] has been re-sited and the Ruhr Chain has been renamed the Cologne Chain. Topographical Charts have been issued but once the front line is again stabilised it is anticipated the Ruhr Chain will once again come into being.
News has also been received of new lattice charts to a scale of one million. These charts covering the London-Berlin and London-Munich areas will give the lattice lines for the Continental Gee chains and they should be in general use by the end of January.
Navigators are reminded that the Eastern Chain is now phased for a point in the North Sea, and that inaccuracies occur in the chain South of a line Calais to Frankfurt. If you are flying below this line remember the fixes you obtain should be from either the Ruhr or Reims Chain and [underlined] not [/underlined] the Eastern Chain.
[Underlined] H2S [/underlined]
H2S Mark II have been used on two occasions during the month, and operators, despite their various activities with Gee and Loran,
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] RADAR NAVIGATION. [/underlined]
managed to obtain good results on the equipment. This is evident from the excellent P.P.I. photographs which have been produced both of the targets and landmarks on track. It is, however, evident from H2S reports that many operators are still failing to use H2S (when they can) for a check on the target. Although you are bombing visually, there is no reason why you should not set up your H2S for blind bombing – the Air Bomber’s remark “Bombs gone” will serve as an admirable check on your estimation of the release point on H2S.
The highlight of this month’s activities with H2S Mark III has been the introduction of H2S Mark IIIE which gives much more clearly defined response and incorporates sector scan. So far blind bombing errors on this equipment have averaged .4 of a mile. In addition a new scanner has been manufactured which is practically perfect, and it is anticipated will give far better reception on the P.P.I. than before. Further tests are being carried out before any general statement as to its efficiency is made.
Intense interest has been shown in this Group’s challenge to 8 (P.F.F.) Group for an inter-Group Blind Bombing Competition which 8 (P.F.F.) Group have accepted.
The final details of the competition are almost complete and the contest will take place during January on the neutral Bombing Range. Good luck 54 Base and may the best side win.
H2S Photography has improved considerably during the month with both Mark II and Mark III squadrons producing excellent results. Revised H2S Photographic Instructions have been issued, and every operator should visit the Photographic Section and acquaint himself with the provisions laid down in these instructions.
Once again the reputation of the Group has been maintained on Gardening sorties. Both photographs and plots indicate that plantings have been in the correct furrows. These results indicate that despite restrictions, operators can still use H2S efficiently when required.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] air bombing
1944 has been a year of exceptional progress from the bombing aspect of the activities of the Group. The average crew error for December 1943 was 295 yards at 20,000 feet, and our present results have not been achieved without a sustained effort on the part of everybody concerned to reduce that figure to the present error of 171 yards at 20,000 feet.
Changes have taken place in equipment and methods of training during the past year, and all possible means of improving the bombing accuracy of the Group have been investigated and, where possible, put into operation. The more important changes were as follows:-
The introduction of a completely new method of Bombing Analysis and the provision of a tour-expired Air Bomber to conduct the analysis on each squadron.
The categorisation of all crews on their ability to bomb accurately.
The installation of the Mark XIVA Bombsight.
A drive on the crew aspect of bombing training and the installation of Automatic Observers and sensitive skid recorders in selected squadrons to determine the errors due to inaccurate flying.
Permission to build two new targets at Wainfleet was obtained, and clearance for local dropping of T.I’s was granted.
A quarterly inter-squadron bombing competition was started, the winning squadron to hold a splendid trophy presented by Lord Camrose.
Crews were instructed to bomb on briefed tracks to provide training in operational methods.
An extension of flashlight targets took place early in the year but other commitments have caused the reduction of flashlight facilities at the present time.
Improved methods of transmitting bombing results from ranges has provided means of early analysis and assessment.
The two most notable events were the introduction of the new form of bombing analysis and the system of categorisation of crews on their ability to bomb accurately. Bombing analysis provides a method of determining the source of errors and has produced an excellent standard of wind finding, and bombsight maintenance, but it will not provide the maximum benefit until every captain studies the analysis of the exercises completed by his crew, and ensures that everything possible is being done to eliminate errors.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] AIR BOMBING. [/underlined]
The categorisation of crews, although based on practice bombing only, does give an indication of a crew’s ability on operations. When a crew obtains an A+ or A category it proves three things:-
(i) The Captain can make an accurate bombing run with no skidding turns or sudden changes in the flying attitude of the aircraft.
(ii) The Navigator can find a good wind.
(iii) The Air Bomber knows how to use his bombsight correctly and can guide the bombsight graticule [underlined] on [/underlined] to the target and not merely in the vicinity of the target.
It is reasonable to suppose that a bombing team displaying these qualities on a practice target can reproduce similar efficiency on a real precision target, but it would be unreasonable to suppose that a crew obtaining ‘C’ or ‘D’ category results during practice will obtain better results on a real target. Therefore it is essential that Squadron Commanders and Flight Commanders make every effort to provide these low category crews with as many opportunities as possible to improve their position.
The weather experienced recently, plus unavoidable commitments has reduced the time available for training, but a study of the summary of practice bombing illustrates the disparity in the number of bombs dropped by various squadrons.
During the coming year it will be more necessary than ever to maintain steady progress in bombing accuracy, targets will grow smaller and more valuable to the enemy. It is certain that the Hun will make strenuous efforts to defend them; his defences can be outwitted, but it is all of no avail if the percentage of bombs required to demolish a target fails to hit that target. A continuance of progress already made, and a repetition of the excellent co-operation existing between our crews, armourers and bombsight maintenance staffs will make an early end to the War something more than wishful thinking.
[Underlined] BOMBING RANGES. [/underlined]
The lifting of black-out restrictions on certain areas is causing some confusion in the identification of bombing ranges at night, and it is only by good fortune that serious accidents have been avoided. Bombing Leaders must make sure that crews taking off on a night bombing detail are conversant with the lighting arrangements at the Practice target. The installation of illuminated signal arrows on all Bomber Command ranges should eliminate any doubts concerning identification, and it is expected that all crews know the provisions of 5 Group Air Staff Instruction BL.24.
Another point which is not receiving the necessary attention is the firing of smoke-puffs during a practice bombing exercise. At least one smoke-puff [underlined] must [/underlined] be fired during every exercise, and to enable the range staff to find an accurate wind the smoke-puff must be fired directly over the range signals area. Some smoke-puffs intended for Epperstone have been fired over Nottingham, and the Hill’s Mirror (Observation) is not sufficiently mobile to cope with these approximations.
[Underlined] THE “LORD CAMROSE” TROPHY. [/underlined]
The trophy, awarded to the squadron producing the best average crew error over a period of three months, is leaving Skellingthorpe
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] AIR BOMBER. [/underlined]
for Bardney. No.9 Squadron has achieved an outstanding result with an average crew error of 127 yards for 570 bombs, during the months of October, November and December. No.50 Squadron made a gallant attempt to retain the trophy for the third successive occasion, but their average crew error of 139 yards for 420 bombs during the same period only took them to second place.
No.9 Squadron’s success was made possible by the hard work and co-operation of all concerned with the bombing effort, and it will be necessary for other squadrons to obtain extraordinarily good results if the trophy is to change hands at the end of March.
Well done No.9 Squadron!!!
[Underlined] BOMBING ANALYSIS. [/underlined]
56 Base (S/Ldr. Walmsley) is making efforts to find ways and means of obtaining a true wind for purposes of bombing analysis. The method now adopted seems promising and after an extended trial it might be worthy of adoption by all Bases. A smoke-puff is fired at the commencement of the exercise and the wind found is recorded at the range. At the end of the exercise, when times and headings are passed to the Range, the A.P.I. wind used for the exercise and the A.P.I. wind found from the positions recorded during the exercise are both transmitted to the Range. All three winds are then sent on the same signal as the bombing results e.g.
SP 300/40
API 290/39
MAPI 305/42
If a squadron carries out four exercises it can be seen that twelve winds are easily available for analysis purposes.
[Underlined] SQUADRON BOMBING COMPETITION. [/underlined]
[Underlined] SQUADRON AVERAGE BOMBING ERROR FOR 8 EXERCISES. [/underlined]
1st 97 80
2nd 463 87
3rd 9 89
4th 630 95
5th 50 97
6th 467 106
7th 207 107
8th 619 108
9th 49 116
The remaining squadrons did not complete sufficient exercises to submit an entry.
No.97 Squadron have headed the Group competition after being placed second last month. Their effort during this month was undoubtedly the best in the Group, both in numbers and quality, and the Squadron is to be congratulated on the results. The efficiency of a squadron is reflected in the condition of its various Sections, and the Bombing Section at 97 Squadron H.Q. is an example of what it should be.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] AIR BOMBING. [/underlined]
[Underlined] DECEMBER’S OOUSTANDING CREW ERRORS. [/underlined]
SQDN. PILOT AIR BOMBER NAVIGATOR ERROR AT 20,000 FT. IN YARDS
44 F/O Daggett F/O Sharpe F/O Hindlay 55
50 F/O Lillies F/O Skinner Sgt Tye 71
189 F/O Herbert F/O Cottier F/O Skinner 43
207 F/O Cook F/S Boddy F/S D’Arcy 75
227 F/O Skipworth Sgt Steadman Sgt Ward 72
617 F/O Leavitt F/S Oldman F/O Withams 49
F/O Flatman F/O Kelly F/O McKie 53
F/L Dobson F/O Johnstone P/O Knight 55
619 F/L Brown F/S Meakin F/O Thanes 68
5 LFS F/O Blair F/S Bethune F/S McShane 74
[Underlined] CREW CATEGORISATION [/underlined]
[Table of Crew Categorisations by Base]
Crews are categorised on the average crew error of their last three bombing exercises and the following limitations apply to the various categories:-
A+ 85 yards or less
A 140 yards or less
B 210 yards or less
C 280 yards or less
D Over 280 yards
All A+ crews can be congratulated on the exceptional standard of accuracy and efficiency attained by the bombing teams. It is not just luck which produces results, methodical work and attention to detail is the basis of accurate bombing.
[Underlined] AIR BOMBER QUIZ [/underlined]
1. What are the safety heights for the release of a 4000 lb. bomb over land and water?
2. What suction recordings must be obtained to ensure full bombsight serviceability?
3. What prevents condensation on the lens of the collimator?
4. Is it possible to do a “lights” check with bomb doors closed?
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] AIR BOMBING. [/underlined]
[Underlined] HIGH LEVEL BOMBING PRACTICE. [/underlined]
[Table of High Level Bombing Practice Results by Squadron]
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] engineering
[Underlined] SUMMARY OF ACTIVITIES FOR THE YEAR 1944. [/underlined]
On the completion of the first full year of Base Organisation, progress can now be reviewed. For inclusion in this Summary such a review must necessarily be very brief, but it is the intention to produce one in detail under separate cover so that lessons learnt during the year can be made clear, and faults can be analysed and suggestions made for improvements.
53 and 54 Bases have completed a full year unhindered by unheavals [sic]. 51 Base after a long period of excellent work in the Group transferred their affection wholly to 7 Group on formation of the separate training group. 56 Base, which was the original 52 Base at Scampton had unfortunately to break down their organisation at Scampton and rebuild it on new ground at Syerston. This did not retard progress to a great extent, but the smooth running efficiency of the Base Organisation was some weeks getting into its stride again. 55 Base is our only Base which is formed on a war-time station, and has been functioning as such for the latter half of the year; the problems of the economical and efficient running of this type of Base vary from those which are housed on stations built to peace-time design.
The basic principle behind the original scheme of Base organisation is the economy in man power, material and equipment, and this economy has been implemented in the Bases in 5 Group since their formation.
Conservation of equipment is the key note of serviceability. The least line of resistance is to remove an unserviceable item of equipment from an aircraft and fit a new item from the main stores caring little of what happens to the unserviceable item removed, which is returned to the main stores for ultimate transfer to a Repairable Equipment Depot. There is no doubt that up to a point, serviceability can be maintained with this short-sighted outlook; but by this means much equipment is en route between stations and R.E.D’s and between R.E.D’s and repair contractors, and much more is heaped up outside these various places waiting repair. So there must come a day when many particular items are in very short supply. By taking full advantage of the Base organisation and the repair facilities of the Base Major Servicing Sub-sections, the unserviceable item removed can be repaired and kept in circuit. It can be used time and time again, maintained in a serviceable condition, and a good Base can pay a dividend rather than rely on a subsidy. Such conservation of equipment has been made possible by the formation of the Base specialist repair bays, i.e. hydraulics, pneumatics, tyres, brakes, sparking plugs, propellers, metal repairs, modifications, power plants, instrument and electrical sections.
Much thought has been given to the building and improvement of these specialist bays and, for instance, the spark plug cleaning is now in its correct perspective. Due to a large amount of pressure and powers of local purchase being brought to bear, ideal cleaning and test equipment is available in Bases in this Group, and Bases are
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] ENGINEERING. [/underlined]
capable of catering for cleaning and testing up to a thousand plugs a day. As Base organisation was a scheme devised subsequent to the building and planning of stations, no designed housing for the various sections was available; therefore improvisation of certain other rooms, buildings and sections has been necessary by local initiative. The equipment required for the repair and testing od the hundreds of components has not been available through Service sources, as the requirement at the time of Base sub-section organisation was not known to higher authority. Therefore local initiative was brought to bear again, and Base major servicing sections are now in possession of excellent test equipment which will cater for the efficient testing of the various services.
[Underlined] TRAINING UNIT SERVICEABILITY. [/underlined]
[Table of 5 LFS Serviceability]
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] training
[Underlined] PROGRESS DURING THE YEAR. [/underlined]
There were numerous changes and developments in training throughout 1944 to meet operational requirements and to deal with new equipment, particularly Radar devices. As a background to all that was new there was a constant pressure on basic flying and operational procedure in an endeavour to improve standards and enable crews to raid successfully in more rigorous conditions.
On other pages of this Summary, developments in training are dealt with in detail. The main task has been to produce sufficient crews of a good standard to do the job, and at the same time to form new squadrons.
The year opened with the Training Units in the throes of conversion to Stirling aircraft and the L.F.S. in its infancy. This 2-type training on 4 engined aircraft created many problems which made the life of aircrew under training extremely strenuous. New, at the end of the year a change-over is again in progress, but squadrons fortunately have a surplus of crews to help them through the Winter months until “all through” Lancaster training is in full swing.
Among the many new features introduced into training, the Categorisation of aircrew members was perhaps the most interesting and represents an attempt to increase the individual efficiency by frequent detailed tests of his ability and analysis of his results. As an essential part of this policy, various instructors and Analysis Officers were appointed to squadrons and the value of their work was soon evident.
Crew members thus have the opportunity of finding out quickly where they are wrong, why they are wrong and what they can do to improve their efficiency. Squadron Commanders and Specialist Officers can also place their fingers quickly on the weak spots in crews.
The year also saw the introduction of No.5 Group Aircraft Drills, Check Lists in aircraft, and the addition of several new and important Air Staff Instructions; one of the latest and most important being “Precautions against Hazards in Conditions of Cumulo Nimbus Cloud”.
Other new features were the production of the new Lancaster Aircrew Quiz and the standard No.5 Group Link Trainer Syllabus which was produced to meet the particular requirements of four engined pilots. All these things provide sufficient material for crews to “find the answers” if they are in doubt and give instructors the facts necessary for the production of high standard crews.
Figures are not the final measure of effort, and “figure chasing” invariably defeats its purpose. They do, however, provide a basis for comparison and do indicate if an effort is being made. The final measure comes in the assessment of raid damage, the casualty lists and the squadron record of early returns and abortive sorties.
It is interesting to note, therefore, that parallel to the
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] TRAINING. [/underlined]
increase in sorties flown and bombs dropped, training hours and figures have also improved. The total of practice bombs dropped has increased and the error has gone down. Assessable fighter affiliation exercises have more than doubled themselves, and in particular, night affiliation grew from nothing to a satisfactory total of nearly 350 exercises in the first month of the Winter. Navigation errors came down. Link Trainer hours rose steadily and instrument flying standards improved – a little slowly perhaps but the ground was ploughed.
There must be no relaxation in training during 1945. It has no saturation point.
[Underlined] EVENTS DURING DECEMBER. [/underlined]
The exceptionally bad weather during December made regular training difficult, but despite this, Squadron Instructors completed 102 Category Checks, leaving 159 Category Checks to be done to give every pilot in the Group a Category. There are now 185 pilots in the Group holding Categories. Nos. 54 and 55 Bases are well behind the other Bases in their category tests. The following table shows the state of categorisation of pilots in the Group:-
[Underlined] CATEGORY OF PILOTS. [/underlined]
[Table of Pilot Categories by Base]
Total squadron training amounted to 2200 hours – a very big increase on the previous month owing to the weather. Of this total 1650 hours were by day and 550 by night. The average per squadron was 122 hours. Six squadrons were very low on the list – No.61 Squadron did 50 hours; 189 Squadron 58 hours; 227 Squadron 64 hours; 630 Squadron 65 hours; 44 Squadron 85 hours. It is hoped all these squadrons will double their efforts during January.
[Underlined] NO. 5 L.F.S. REPORT. [/underlined]
No. 5 L.F.S. produced 73 crews for squadrons at an average of 13 hours per crew. The Unit flew 1100 hours. Loran training was given during December, and bombing results showed improvement on November.
[Underlined] 1690 B.D.T. FLIGHT. [/underlined]
The Flight was “grounded” by weather for 14 days, but they flew whenever squadrons asked for details. A total of 252 day details and 91 night details were flown. This included 97 da details and 41 night details for No.75 Base.
Total hours for the Flight were 323, and the average hours per aircraft on charge was 24. Pilots averaged 18 hours per month.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] TRAINING. [/underlined]
[Underlined] INSTRUMENT FLYING AND LINK [/underlined]
During the Winter of 1943 there was definite evidence that the standard of instrument flying was not sufficient to meet all the requirements of operational flying in conditions of adverse weather, and special attention was paid to this phase of flying throughout 1944. A summary of the action taken to improve instrument flying throughout the Group is tabulated below:-
(i) More flying on primary instruments, by the inclusion of specific exercises in the Heavy Conversion Units, and the inclusion of a test on this point in the Pilot’s Category Check.
(ii) A revival of the use of the “hood” to provide more genuine I.F. practice in the air in day light.
(iii) The issue of a standard 5 Group Link Trainer Syllabus to meet the particular requirements of pilots of four engined aircraft (corkscrew on instruments, and flying on primary instruments only, etc.).
(iv) A modification to the Link Trainer to enable the Artificial Horizon and Directional Gyro to be “toppled” during an exercise.
(v) The introduction of a new type Artificial Horizon with a reduced turn error.
(vi) The acquisition of additional Link Trainers and Instructors towards the end of the year, which now gives each squadron one machine and one instructor.
The effort made is revealed by the fact the Squadron Link Trainer hours rose from 495 hours in December, 1943, to 1804 hours in December, 1944 – just short of a four-fold increase. The new squadrons and new Link Trainers now make more practice easier, and the acid test is the squadron average spread equally over all pilots and flight engineers on strength, and most of all, the quality of the instrument flying.
December was the best month to date and congratulations go to Nos. 49, 467 and 50 Squadrons for having reached the target for pilots on the Link Trainer. This was the third consecutive month in which No.49 Squadron has reached their target. No.44 Squadron went very close to the squadron target of 132 hours, but the bulk of the time was done by the flight engineers, the pilots being below the average with a total of 44 hours.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] TRAINING. [/underlined]
[Underlined] LINK TRAINER TIMES. [/underlined]
[Table of Link Trainer Hours by Base and Squadron]
GRAND TOTAL – 1804 hrs.
ACTUAL AVERAGE PER SQUADRON – 78.8 hrs.
REQUIRED AVERAGE PER SQUADRON – 132 hrs.
+ SQUADRONS WHERE LINK TIMES ARE FAR TOO LOW.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
second thoughts for pilots
[Underlined] SWINGING ON TAKE-OFF. [/underlined]
There have been two swinging accidents on take off recently and on each occasion the Pilot flagrantly ignored the Lancaster Swinging Drill (No.5 Group Aircraft Drill No.5). Read the Drill through carefully again and make sure that both you and your Flight Engineer know it thoroughly.
[Underlined] FIDO LANDINGS. [/underlined]
The average hold-off tends to be too long and the landing too far up the runway. This is largely because Pilots, having an exaggerated idea of the bumpiness in the box, come in at too high an airspeed – 115 m.p.h. I.A.S. is quite sufficient. Check this tendency particularly when returning with full bomb load.
On the circuit “glare” makes it difficult to see other aircraft on the same level, or slightly above. Ensure a careful “circuit look-out” normally is maintained and that navigation, upper and lower identification lights are on.
Turn your cockpit lighting on full before entering the funnel. This will enable you to read your instruments in the glare on the approach.
[Underlined] OVERSHOOTING. [/underlined]
The following are the commonest causes of overshooting:-
(i) Airspeed too high on the approach into wind. It should be 120m.p.h. with a moderately laden aircraft on the initial approach, and [underlined] 105 – 110 m.p.h. over the boundary. [/underlined] With an all up weight of 55,000 lbs to 58,000 lbs. it should be 120 m.p.h. on the initial approach and [underlined] 115 m.p.h. over the boundary. [/underlined]
(ii) Too high over boundary. You should not be above 25 – 50 feet over the boundary by day or in the Green of the G.P.I. by night.
(iii) Throttles left open too long after the initial check thus prolonging the float.
[Underlined] LOSS OF CONTROL. [/underlined]
Straight and level instrument flying is fairly sound with the amount of practice that the average pilot has during training and operations, but instrument flying with Artificial Horizon or A.S.I. u/s, steep turns, combat manoeuvres, etc. are known to be weak through lack of practice. There is no reason why this weakness should exist as there are ample opportunities for instrument practice on N.F.T’s and training flights generally.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] SECOND THOUGHTS FOR PILOTS. [/underlined]
[Underlined] CUMULO NIMBUS CLOUD. [/underlined]
Take special note of the new Air Staff Instruction Trg/6 – “Precautions against Hazards in conditions of Cumulo Nimbus Cloud”. This instruction contains three main points:-
(i) A Safety Area for climbing and descending.
(ii) A maximum height above which the aircraft is not to fly until it enters the Safety Area.
(iii) A minimum ”cross country” height above the cloud after climbing in the Safety Area.
Make sure you can see clear skies above by day or stars by night before climbing in the Safety Area. Do not fly in Cumulo Nimbus cloud. Turn round and fly clear.
[Drawing] Do [underlined] you [/underlined] always catch the “LATTICE LINE SPECIAL”
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] gunnery
[Underlined] “DECLINE AND FALL OF THE G.A.F.” [underlined]
[Underlined] DESTROYED [/underlined]
4/5.12.44 “P” – 106 Squadron – JU. 88
4/5.12.44 “Q” – 61 Squadron – ME.410
4/5.12.44 “M” – 189 Squadron – JU. 88
6/7.12.44 “V” – 630 Squadron -JU. 88
6/7.12.44 “B” – 57 Squadron – ME.110
[Underlined] PROBABLY DESTROYED [/underlined]
6/7.12.44 “L” – 97 Squadron – JU. 88
6/7.12.44 “F” – 463 Squadron – ME.110
[Underlined] DAMAGED [/underlined]
4/5.12.44 “A” – 619 Squadron – FW.190
4/5.12.44 “W” – 207 Squadron – JU. 88
4/5.12.44 “B” – 463 Squadron – JU. 88
6/7.12.44 “S” – 227 Squadron – JU. 88
6/7.12.44 “D” – 463 Squadron – JU. 88
6/7.12.44 “S” - 44 Squadron – ME.410
6/7.12.44 “O” – 619 Squadron – ME.110
6/7.12.44 “D” – 49 Squadron – FW.190
All the above claims have been confirmed by Headquarters, Bomber Command.
There was a marked increase in the number of combats this month, though the majority took place on the first two operations of of [sic] the month; the targets being Heilbronn and Giessen respectively. These two nights contributed 82 combats to the total of 101 for the whole of the month, and it will be noted that all the successes claimed were registered on these two nights.
Five enemy aircraft are claimed as Destroyed, two Probably Destroyed and eight Damaged. Five cases were noted of gunners firing on enemy aircraft attacking another Lancaster, and in one case the fighter was destroyed. In all the other cases the enemy aircraft broke off his attack. These gunners are to be congratulated on their vigilance and offensive spirit. See the fighter first and shoot first are the two best axioms for gunners; it has been proved that they pay.
[Underlined] RESULTS OF C.G.S. COURSES [/underlined]
F/O MacIntosh – 207 Sqdn – Cat. “B”
F/O Van Beck – 619 Sqdn – Cat “B”
F/O Ray – 97 Sqdn – Cat. “B”
P/O Hansom – 83 Sqdn – Cat. “B”
F/O Burnham – 467 Sqdn – Cat. “B”
P/O Annandale – 50 Sqdn. – Cat. “B”
It is good to note that the standard of candidates selected
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] GUNNERY [/underlined]
for C.G.S. courses has been such as to show a return of 9 Cat. “B”s out of the last 9 nominations. Keep this up Gunnery Leaders, and submit to your Base Gunnery Leader any gunner who possesses the necessary qualifications for C.G.S. Gunners who have been categorised as “A+” on Squadrons should be automatic selections as candidates for C.G.S.
[Underlined] REVIEW OF ADVANCEMENT IN EQUIPMENT AND TRAINING DURING 1944 [/underlined]
1944 marked the advent of new training equipment and new ideas on training, which have resulted in a marked improvement in training on Squadrons.
The most important items are as under:-
1. Standard Free Gunnery Trainer.
2. Flash Trainer.
3. Turret Manipulation Assessor.
4. Skeet Ranges.
5. Self-towed Drogue.
6. Categorisation of Air Gunners.
7. Gunnery Analysis Officers.
8. Infra-Rad Photography on Night Fighter Affiliation Exercises.
9. A.G.L.T.
Of the above items, Categorisation of Gunners has gone ahead in Conversion Units and on Squadrons and every Squadron gunner now has a category. 92 Group have now followed suit and are now categorising gunners on similar lines.
Gunnery Analysis Officers were instituted on the basis of one Officer per Squadron, whose duties are to supervise and co-ordinate all training, both practical and theoretical, on Squadrons. These duties include Skeet Range shooting and assessment of all cine gyro assessor films. Each Officer has attended the Skeet Range Shooting Course and an Aessment [sic] Course at 1690 B.D.T. Flight.
[Underlined] GUNNERY AIR TRAINING [/underlined]
[Underlined] FIGHTER AFFILIATION – ORDER OF MERIT [/underlined]
The Order of Merit is based on the following system of marking:-
Night Affiliation (Camera and Infra-Red Film) – 10 points.
Night Affiliation (without Camera) – 8 points.
Day Affiliation (Gyro and Camera) – 5 points.
Day Affiliation (Camera only) – 3 points.
Day Affiliation (without Camera) – 1 point.
[Table of Fighter Affiliation Order of Merit by Squadron]
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] GUNNERY. [/underlined]
[Underlined] SUMMARY OF AIR TRAINING EXERCISES. [/underlined]
[Table of Air Training Exercises by Squadron]
[Underlined] TOTAL OF AFFILIATION EXERCISES FOR DECEMBER – 502 [/underlined]
Bad weather and operational commitments have brought the total of Fighter Affiliation details for the month down with a rush; this month’s total being less than half of the total for November. Even with this low total, it is very satisfactory to note that [underlined] Night Affiliation exercises totalled 111, [/underlined] eleven of which were with Infra Red film. It is to be hoped that squadrons will fit the camera to the maximum number of aircraft carrying out Night Affiliation.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] armament
This year 1944 has seen the introduction into the Group of many new items of equipment and stores; a review of the changes and the part taken by Armament personnel in producing the right answers, or getting the inevitable gremlins out of new equipment will not come amiss in this issue.
[Underlined] BOMBS. [/underlined]
This subject is overshadowed by Tallboy; the introduction of this large egg has been most successful but has entailed a lot of hard work and hard thinking for armament personnel. Other bombs which arrived are the American series A.N.-M.44, 58, 59, 64, 65 and 76.
[Underlined] CLUSTER PROJECTILES. [/underlined]
The long awaited incendiary clusters have arrived in the form of Nos. 4, 14, 15 and A.N.M.17. So far these clusters have proved a mixed blessing, and have not yet replaced our old friend (or enemy) the S.B.C.
Handling clusters in the open resulted in many attempts to devise a satisfactory lay-out, but no really satisfactory method, providing adequate protection against weather and damage during handling, was evolved.
The A.O.C. came to the rescue with the Large Incendiary Store House Scheme. Successful trials have been carried out which indicate that this scheme will solve all our troubles, and damaged clusters will become a thing of the past, or a case of excessive handling.
[Underlined] BOMB GEAR. [/underlined]
The introduction of hydraulic winches has saved much sweat and many man-hours.
Modification No.74 has been incorporated to enable 18 bombs (20 when No.13 Station adaptors is available) to be dropped in one stick.
The Type N. Release slip arrived fortunately in small numbers, as snags were soon found to exist. No.53 Base have done a lot of work and finally produced a modification which it is expected will eliminate the danger of accidental release during bombing-up and de-bombing.
[Underlined] MARKER STORES. [/underlined]
Since No.5 Group has carried out its own target marking, many stores have been introduced, considerably complicating armament work in No.54 Base, and calling for local modifications to meet ever changing operational requirements.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] ARMAMENT. [/underlined]
[Underlined] FUZES AND PISTOLS. [/underlined]
The introduction of new stores has brought with it a corresponding increase in the variety of Fuzes and Pistols. The quantity necessitated the approval of an additional storehouse.
[Underlined] BOMB HANDLING AND STORAGE. [/underlined]
Stacking trucks have made their appearance, and have proved useful tools. The cry is for more and we hope to see more during 1945.
Equipment for handling S.B.C’s including the heavy transporter (once again modified) is arriving, and all stations should be fully equipped early in 1945. Some of this equipment can be used in handling cluster projectiles and mines.
[Underlined] MINES. [/underlined]
The variety has increased and is still increasing, calling for carefully planned storage so that any type can be made available at very short notice.
[Underlined] TURRETS. [/underlined]
The F.N. 121 has arrived in small numbers. No.56 Base found some snags in the Servo Feed and initiated remedial action.
[Underlined] GUNS. [/underlined]
Great strides were made at the beginning of the year in solving the gun freezing problem. Experiments were carried out with various types of anti-freeze oil, both for the turret hydraulic system and for the guns themselves. Gun ejection seals were introduced and extensive firing trials carried out on operations to ascertain whether, in fact, it was the accumulation of ice on the breech block which caused failures, or the freezing of static oil in the Palmer Firing Gear. Attempts were made to raise the internal temperature of the turret by the use of first, the Galley heater, which proved unsuccessful, and secondly, with ducted heating both to the rear and mid-upper turrets. This type of heating has proved more successful, and is being incorporated in production aircraft, many of which are already in service.
[Underlined] MODIFICATIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS. [/underlined]
Apart from those already mentioned, Armament personnel were responsible for many bright ideas, some of which are reported below.
A de-belting and cleaning machine for .303 ammunition was designed an manufactured by R.A.F. Station, Swinderby. It is understood that Bomber Command is interested in this machine which has been working satisfactorily for some months.
The enlarging of trigger guards to enable gunners to have easy access to the triggers when wearing thick gloves. Now a Bomber Command modification.
Modification to F.N. 120 turrets to enable gunners to wear the pilot type parachute submitted by R.A.F. Waddington, now as a Command Modification.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] ARMAMENT. [/underlined]
Heating for the Palmer Firing Valve Box, submitted by East Kirkby and issued as a Command modification.
Re-positioning of the MK.IIC C.G.S. Junction Box to enable the ‘C’ type parachute to be used in F.N.121 turrets. Submitted by R.A.F. Station, Waddington, and issued as a Bomber Command modification.
Improvements of Bomber Command Mod. No.3 to increase the Gunner’s vision, submitted by R.A.F. Waddington, and at present being investigated by Bomber Command.
All electrical firing gear in turrets. This modification submitted by Metheringham was at first turned down due to the inability to obtain the necessary solenoids. M.A.P. have recently shown interest in this modification and have requested full particulars.
The re-positioning of F.N. 50 Solenoids and the shortening of the Bowden Cable. This modification was submitted by R.A.F. Station, Bardney, as a means of preventing the Bowden Firing Cable from catching on the armour plating and causing run-away guns. Although not accepted, an alternative modification was incorporated in production.
East Kirkby were responsible for a modification to the No.44 Bomb pistol which facilitates the fitting of safety wires. Now a Command modification.
R.A.F. Station, Bardney, were responsible for the design and manufacture of a triple adaptor to enable 3 X 500 lb. bombs to be carried on the four centre stations of the Lancaster bomb bay. This modification aroused great interest both at Headquarters, Bomber Command, and at the Air Ministry, but was eventually turned down as the Ministry of Aircraft Production had, at this time, a similar development under way to achieve the same purpose. This adaptor took the form of a quintuple carrier slung across the bomb bay. It is understood that progress with this development is satisfactory.
Due to the delay in the manufacture of the new Heavy S.B.C. Transporter a protective plate to prevent damage to 4 lb. incendiary bomb tails when carried in S.B.C’s was introduced by R.A.F. Station, East Kirkby, and has since been issued as a Bomber Command modification.
[Underlined] BOMBING RANGES. [/underlined]
To meet the increased number of bombing targets required for practice bombing, personnel at Wainfleet Range erected two additional targets at Ingoldmells and Wrangle, the former was initially used as a dive bombing target. The range personnel worked hard to keep this target in repair and put up a tough fight against the sea assisted by well aimed bombs.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Underlined] ARMAMENT FAILURES TABLE. [/underlined]
[Table of Armament Failures by Squadron]
A – MANIPULATION B – MAINTENANCE C – ICING D – TECHNICAL E – ELECTRICAL F – OBSCURE
[Page break]
[Drawing] flying control
A year ago, the “5 Group Quick Landing Scheme” was introduced, following trials at Skellingthorpe. During the year developments in the scheme have speeded up the landing times. In September, 1943, the Group average was 3.67 minutes. On the introduction of the scheme this average fell to 2.66 minutes in January, 1944. Since May, 1944, when it fell to 1.99 minutes, the figure has remained below 2 minutes and in December, 1944, reached its lowest level, 1.61 minutes.
The main alteration to the original scheme took place at the end of September, on the introduction of the Command Standard Landing Procedure, when the Group scheme was amended to bring it into line with the Command Scheme by advancing the initial call-up point to the funnel, increasing the height at the initial call and renaming the calling positions.
Developments in airfield lighting have assisted in this reduction of landing times, mainly in conditions of poor visibility. Sodium lights in the funnel and on the flarepath have been of great value. Speedier clearance of the runway and perimeter track have been assisted by the introduction of directional arrows and illuminated dispersal numbers.
Tarmac and asphalt used in the surfacing of runways and perimeter tracks have improved serviceability, though considerable difficulties have arisen in the case of satellite airfields carrying two squadron traffic.
Radar developments during the year foreshadow and entire change in flying control methods, when much of the present use of lighting will be subordinated to control through Radar. The increased heavy traffic in all areas of Bomber Command makes such development vitally necessary.
[Underlined] LANDING TIMES FOR DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
[Table of Landing Times by Base and Station]
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
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[Drawing] photography
[Underlined] ANALYSIS DAY PHOTOGRAPHY – DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
[Table of Day Photographic Analysis Ranked by Squadron]
[Underlined] ANALYSIS NIGHT PHOTOGRAPHY – DECEMBER, 1944. [/underlined]
[Table of Night Photography Analysis Ranked by Squadron]
This photographic inter-squadron ladder is produced on the number of failures (excluding “Target Conditions” “T.C.”) incurred during the past month, as a percentage of the number of events.
+ 617 and 627 Squadrons are omitted from the ladder in view of the relatively low number of attempts of each.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] aircrew safety
[Underlined] THE PAST YEAR. [/underlined]
The drive to save lives of ditching bomber crews and crews forced to bale out or crash land was continued. It is hard to establish how many lives were lost due to ignorance of procedure, Safety Drills or equipment, but a review of successful incidents shows a trend towards better knowledge and understanding of the drills and a decline in the number of stupid mistakes.
The year saw the ‘K’ type personal dinghy come and go. It also saw the completion of successful trials in 5 Group of the prototype Back-type parachute, which it is hoped will soon be available to all heavy bomber crews. As an interim measure the Seat-type parachute was made compulsory for Pilots and Rear Gunners.
An ingenious “Warning horn” for emergency in the air was devised within the Group and tested successfully. It has been forwarded to Bomber Command for approval and general adoption. The horn gives audible warning to all crew members to bale out or prepare for ditching when the intercomm. has failed.
[Underlined] INTO THE SEA. [/underlined]
One known ditching occurred in the Group during December – an aircraft (believed to be of 189 Squadron), returning to a diversion airfield after attacking Politz, came down in the sea about 5 miles N.W. of Banff. No signals were received from this aircraft, the incident being reported from land, and in spite of an extensive search no survivors were picked up though an aircraft wheel was seen.
[Underlined] CRASH STATIONS. [/underlined]
There have been several crashes recently in the vicinity of airfields during return from operations in bad weather. Captains of aircraft are reminded of the “Crash Landing Drill” (Appendix ‘C’ to Drill No.8 of 5 Group Aircraft Drills refers). This Drill says “The Pilot is to order ‘Crash Stations’ as soon as a crash is imminent or probable, i.e. landing in bad visibility or when the aircraft has suffered damage which is likely to make a normal landing difficult”.
[Underlined] PARACHUTES. [/underlined]
It has been noticed that a lot of pilots and rear gunners are still not using the Seat-type parachutes on all flights. This is now compulsory. See Air Staff Instruction Trg./7.
[Underlined] DRILLS. [/underlined]
A reminder that Saturday morning is still the Safety Drill morning. Get a practice done once a week and you won’t get your feet wet if you have to ditch. It’s cold in the North Sea these days.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] accidents
In reviewing flying accidents for the past 12 months, it is only fair to record what the Group has achieved in effecting a reduction in the actual rate of accidents during the period. This is best shown pictorally by means of the following graph:-
[Graph of Aircraft Damaged per 10,000 hours through 1944.]
The graph is self-evident and the consistent decrease in the rate throughout practically the whole year is something of which we can be proud. At the same time, without wishing to belittle the efforts of the those who have been responsible for achieving this reduction, we must not be misled by these figures into thinking that the accident rate is by any means satisfactory.
The hard fact still remains that in 12 months 360 aircraft were seriously damaged in flying accidents. Of these4 125 were totally destroyed including 60 cases in which one or more members of the crew received fatal injuries. In squadrons you can probably recall a fatal crash and perhaps a taxying collision and you may even have been involved in an accident yourself. We at Group as onlookers see most of the game; the accidents we can call to mind are not just isolated instances and it is for this reason that the above figures are quoted: to emphasise the serious consequences of accidents and to make quite clear that great effort is still required if we are to fulfil our aim of entirely eliminating unnecessary loss of lie and unnecessary damage to aircraft.
[Underlined] CAUSE AND PREVENTION. [/underlined]
If you have read past issues of ‘V’ Group News you will have seen repeated references to taxying accidents. It is not surprising therefore, that when examining all the avoidable accidents which have occurred during the year, we find that no less than 32% occurred whilst taxying. Barely is there the slightest excuse for this type of accident, particularly as Air Staff Instructions give adequate advice as to the means of safe taxying. Read Flying Control 24.
Overshoots and heavy landings together accounted for 22% of the avoidable accidents. These two causes have been linked together because
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] ACCIDENTS. [/underlined]
the root cause of each often lies in the approach and a good approach is dependent to a very great extent upon speed. Remember that when landing heavily laden there is no need for an excessively high final approach speed: 115 m.p.h. but never faster.
The next most serious cause from the point of view of numbers was swinging during take off and landing, accounting for 16% of the total. Once again we repeat the warning to open throttles slowly, easily and smoothly, and do not open up to full throttle before travelling 500 yards down the runway irrespective of your load.
A reminder to Squadron Commanders. Do not forget Air Staff Instruction Ops.2/47. This will help materially in the general drive to keep accidents down to a minimum.
[Underlined] THE NEW YEAR. [/underlined]
Thank you for the results achieved in 1944. You have proved what can be done and it only remains for this success to be continued and bettered in 1945.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] equipment
[Underlined] USE OF EQUIPMENT. [/underlined]
The Powers that Be are becoming very anxious about the large quantity of Service Equipment which is being mis-used. Instances quoted are Navigation Bags used for weekend holdalls, blankets as table coverings, etc. Equipment Officers can help the Station Commanders to stop this mis-use by pointing out any irregularities that come to their notice.
[Underlined] DISCREPANCIES IN BARRACK INVENTORIES. [/underlined]
Attention is drawn to Headquarters, Bomber Command, letter BC/50816/E.1 dated 19th December, 1944. If the station has not already broken down the Barrack Inventory into site inventories, under A.M.O. A.559/43, this should be done at once.
[Underlined] IN RETROSPECT. [/underlined]
The Equipment Officers and their staffs very rarely see the result of their work. Nevertheless the work they have put in during the last year has certainly helped the Group’s achievements. Without their good work this Group would not have done as much as it has. The New Year motto for the Equipment Section is “We get ‘em, you smash ‘em – we getcha some more!”
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
education [Drawing]
During December, Bomber Command opened its own E.V.T. school at Bourne. The aim is to train instructors for E.V.T. work after the cessation of hostilities with Germany. Groups are being asked to supply 10 instructors for each course, so that it is essential that a steady influx of volunteers is forthcoming from stations. Lists are submitted from Stations monthly, and the last two or three returns have not brought in nearly enough names to ensure the success of the scheme. There should always be publicity on stations asking for volunteers, and the importance of the work must be impressed on suitable candidates. It is realised that some men are put off by the fact that conditions of service have not yet been published, and by the idea the E.V.T. work might postpone demobilisation. It is thought that conditions of service will not be unfavourable, and great emphasis must be laid on the fact that no one will be kept in the service after they are due to be demobilised. It is clear that to postpone demobilisation after a person’s group is named to leave the service would destroy the whole foundation on which the scheme has been built.
The end of December makes a logical break in the winter programme, when the work of the last three months can be reviewed. Many stations have produced fairly good results, no station has done all that can be done even under present conditions. Classes at Lincoln have been well attended, there have been successful classes on stations. Some very good work has been done with aircrew cadets and handicraft and music clubs have flourished. There are still many deficiencies however. There are some stations where no classes are organised for Matriculation. It cannot be that on a station of strength 1000, there are not six people who want to take this important examination. The only explanation is bad publicity and lack of drive on the part of the Education Officer. Some stations have, as yet, no facilities for woodwork, while suggestions for the formation of cookery classes and instruction in Home Nursing for W.A.A.F. have brought little result. In some cases there is an inclination to wait for this Headquarters to arrange lectures and not enough initiative of the part of stations to obtain good lecturers themselves.
To an outside observer, the difference in the standard of News Rooms is very surprising. It is realised that some stations have better facilities for display and more comfortable furniture than others, although this is not always the fault of circumstances, but rather a lack of interest and initiative. Sometimes this deficiency is not on the side of the Education Officer, but often that officer is to blame for not making the best of his opportunities. There should be a frequent alteration of display material, with news and topical articles up to date. There is not enough variety of topics and far too many maps reproducing the same localities. One large map of Europe and one of the Far East are sufficient for keeping the War Fronts up to date. The large number of airmen using the News Rooms is a proof that far more time and attentions should be given by the officers concerned in making the rooms really first class.
The service as a whole has shown a greater realisation of the importance of education in the last six months. It is up to Education Officers to take advantage of this increased interest and to make their work attractive and appealing to the personnel of their station.
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] decorations
The following IMMEDIATE awards were approved during the month:-
[Underlined] 9 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O R.L. BLUNSDON DFC
P/O A.F. JONES DFC
F/O R.C. LAKE DFC
F/L E.F.A. JONES DFC
S/L A.G. WILLIAMS DFC
F/SGT A.H. HORRY DFM
P/O J.E. STOWELL DFC
P/O E. SHIELDS DFC
P/O D. MacINTOSH DFC
P/O W.D. TWEDDLE DFC
F/O R.C. HARVEY DFC
F/O F. SOWERBY DFC
[Underlined] 57 SQUADRON [/underlined]
A/F/O J.H.C. BRAHAM DFC
[Underlined] 617 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O A.J. WALKER DFC
F/O T.H.J. PLAYFORD DFC
W/O L.J. HAZELL DFC
P/O N. EVANS DFC
A/F/L R.E. KNIGHTS, DFC DSO
F/O A.E. KELL, DFC BAR TO DFC
W/C J.B. TAIT, DSO & 2 BARS, DFC & BAR 3RD BAR TO DSO
The following NON-IMMEDIATE awards were approved during the month:-
[Underlined] 44 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O S.J. BRISTOW
F/O N. STOCKWELL DFC
SGT H. McKNOX DFM
F/SGT A.J. FROST DFM
F/SGT E.R. BOLAND DFM
[Underlined] 49 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O H.F. ARNOLD DFC
F/O L.M. PEDERSON DFC
P/O J.C. FLEMING DFC
P/O J.A. CASTLES DFC
F/SGT E.R.G. HAINES DFM
F/SGT J. CHRISTIAN DFM
[Underlined] 49 SQUADRON (CONTD) [/underlined]
SGT J. SKIDMORE DFM
SGT J.A. RICHARDS DFM
W/O L.W.J. THOMAS DFM
[Underlined] 50 SQUADRON [/underlined]
A/S/L R.N. QUINN, DFC BAR TO DFC
P/O F.N. DAVIS DFC
F/O W.J. DAVIS DFC
A/F/O N. BALLANCE DFC
F/SGT F.A. KIRBY DFM
F/SGT E.T. MANNING DFM
F/SGT H. LEWIS DFM
[Underlined] 57 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O O.C. THOMAS DFC
F/O W.F. MARTIN DFC
F/SGT M.J. THORNE DFM
F/O K.E. BLY DFC
[Underlined] 61 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O D.W. SIMMONS DFC
W/O V.G. BURGESS DFC
F/SGT J.H. KEENAN DFM
W/O A.F.C. HARROW DFC
SGT J.A. LYON DFM
P/O E.J.H. ROBERTS DFC
[Underlined] 83 SQUADRON [/underlined]
W/O P.W. ALLWOOD DFC
A/F/O P.C. CORNISH DFC
F/O T.P. JUPP, DFC BAR TO DFC
F/SGT I.O. HARRIS DFM
F/O L. HATCHER, AFM DFC
F/SGT G.S. HAZELTINE DFM
F/O R. HOBBS DFC
F/O R.E.H. FOOTE, DFC BAR TO DFC
A/W/O W.G. TROTTER DFC
F/SGT M. BRENNAN DFM
W/O J.E. HUDSON DFC
P/O V.J. ROBLEY DFC
[Underlined] 97 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O J.A. PEARCE DFC
A/W/O G.D. MOIR DFC
A/F/L N.N. PARKER DFC
A/F/L G.H. LAING, DFC BAR TO DFC
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Underlined] 97 SQUADRON (CONTD) [/underlined]
F/SGT G. BROWN DFM
W/O A.J. CROLL, DFM DFC
W/O F.H. GREEN DFC
A/F/L G.H.R. POLSON, DFC, DFM BAR TO DFC
F/O P.J. HUMPHREYS DFC
F/SGT D.S. NICHOLLS DFM
F/SGT J.D. McINGLIS DFM
A/S/L T.H. MAKEPEACE, DFC BAR TO DFC
F/SGT W. MANDERSON DFM
F/SGT R. MOORE DFM
P/O A.A. AVELINE DFC
[Underlined] 106 SQUADRON [/underlined]
A/F/O J. NETHERWOOD DFC
F/O L. COEN DFC
A/S/L J.W. ALLINSON
[Underlined] 207 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O W. McINTOSH, DFM, DFC BAR TO DFC
F/O E. OAKES DFC
P/O C.B. SUTHERLAND, DFC BAR TO DFC
P/O G.D. CHESWORTH DFC
P/O J.S. COOK DFC
W/O G.W.J. AINSWORTH DFC
[Underlined] 617 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O W.G. EVANS DFC
W/O T.J. McLEAN, DFM DFC
A/F/O J. GINGLES, DFM DFC
[Underlined] 627 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/L R.L. BARTLEY, DFC BAR TO DFC
[Underlined] 630 SQUADRON [/underlined]
A/S/L R.E. MILLICHAP DFC
F/L J.W. MARTIN DFC
F/O J.W. LENNON DFC
F/O M.A.J. BEAUDOIN DFC
A/F/L D.E. HAWKER DFC
F/O G.J. BATE DFC
F/O L.A.V. WOOD DFC
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
[Drawing] war savings
[Table of War Savings by Station]
[Underlined] GRAND TOTAL NATIONAL SAVINGS FOR DECEMBER, 1944 - £6,476. 7. 11d.
A- Approximate number of pence per head.
B – Approximate percentage of personnel saving.
C – Total savings.
[Page break]
It Happens Every Day!!
When A.C.W. Mary Jones arrived at Station Z,
She saw the Station Signals Off., and unto him she said,
“I’ve nine days leave to come, good sir, and it would be a boon
“If I could have it right away. My boy friend’s sailing soon”.
Without delay the woeful Waaf was whisked upon her way,
And when her time was up she sent a message reading “Pray
“Extend my leave a further week; the ship is still in port”.
The Signals Off. agreed to this – he was a decent sort.
But when the girl requested yet a further forty-eight,
He quite forgot his decency and telegraphed, irate,
“Return at once to unit”, but the errant maiden tarried,
And wired “I want another fortnight more, for I am getting married,
“The church is fixed; the guests are warned. This afternoon at two
“By special licence we’ll be wed. Our hours of bliss are few
“So please agree”. Defeated he confirmed this new request,
And fourteen days ensued of peace, with no word from the pest.
On day fifteen a gentle knock upon his office door
Announced that Mary Smith (nee Jones), was back in camp once more,
And wished to have an interview, which he with some elation
Agreed to give, because he wished a fuller explanation.
The genial soul was quite prepared to overlook the past;
A little talk was his intent, and so he gently gassed,
And maundered on, and moralised for quite a lengthy spell.
‘Mongst other things – “My dear”, he said, “I’m pleased to see you well;
“And now that you are back you’ll do your very best I know.
“The section’s very under-staffed. We need you ever so!”.
He stopped at last. The girl then spoke. (You’ll guess her purpose maybe).
“Oh sir” I’d like my ticket please” I’m going to have a baby!”
ANON. (Circa 1945.).
“V” GROUP NEWS. NO. 29. DECEMBER, 1944.
[Page break]
war effort
[Table of Aircraft and Sorties Carried out by Squadron]
[Underlined] NOTES: [/underlined] Squadrons are placed in the above table in order of “Successful Sorties per average aircraft on charge”. In view of their special duties, Nos. 9, 49, 83, 97, 617 and 627 Squadrons are shown separately. In cases where a crew has flown in an aircraft of another Squadron, the sortie is divided between the two Squadrons. Squadrons above establishment are calculated on an establishment of 20.
[Page break]
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V Group News, December 1944
5 Group News, December 1944
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Five Group Newsletter, number 29, December 1944. Includes a foreword by the Air Officer Commanding, and articles on tactics, operations, gardening, signals, navigation, this month's bouquets, radar navigation, air bombing, engineering, training, second thoughts for pilots, gunnery, armament, flying control, photography, aircrew safety, accidents, equipment, education, decorations, war savings, it happens every day, and war effort.
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IBCC Digital Archive
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1944-12
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Anne-Marie Watson
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68 printed sheets
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eng
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MStephensonS1833673-160205-18
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
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Belgium
Denmark
Germany
Great Britain
Netherlands
Norway
Poland
Atlantic Ocean--Kattegat (Baltic Sea)
Belgium--Houffalize
Belgium--Saint-Vith
Denmark--Kalundborg
Denmark--Langeland
England--Lincolnshire
Germany--Euskirchen (Kreis)
Germany--Giessen (Hesse)
Germany--Heilbronn
Germany--Munich
Germany--Rheydt
Netherlands--Ijmuiden
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Norway--Oslo
Poland--Gdynia
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Germany--Urft Dam
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1944-12
5 Group
air gunner
aircrew
bomb aimer
bombing
demobilisation
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
flight engineer
Gee
gremlin
H2S
Lancaster
Master Bomber
mine laying
Mosquito
navigator
Pathfinders
pilot
radar
rivalry
Tallboy
training
wireless operator
-
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Stephenson, Stuart
Stuart Stephenson MBE
S Stephenson
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Stephenson, S
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20 items. An oral history interview with Stuart Stephenson MBE, Chairman of the Lincs-Lancaster Association, and issues of 5 Group News.
The collection was catalogued by Barry Hunter.
In accordance with the conditions stipulated by the donor, some items are available only at the International Bomber Command Centre / University of Lincoln.
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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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V GROUP NEWS V
AUGUST 1944 * [deleted] SECRET [/deleted] * NO * 25
FOREWORD by A.O.C.
In August the Group set up several new records for operations and training, and Squadrons got more hours flying out of their aircraft than ever before. Top of the list is No. 61 Squadron with a total of 105 hours per aircraft on charge, and close behind are Nos. 50 and 44 Squadrons with 103 and 101 hours respectively. These are splendid figures which reflect great credit on the maintenance staffs. The total flying for the month was 34,000 hours with 3,600 operational sorties.
A high proportion of the attacks was directed against naval targets, more especially the six ships in Brest Harbour, including the battleship Clemenceau and the cruiser Gueydon, all of which were sunk, thus preventing the enemy from carrying out his intention of blocking the harbour.
Two highly successful mining attacks were also undertaken against the ship canals at Stettin and Konigsberg. At Stettin a dredged channel crosses a six mile wide lake between the coast and the docks, and it was decided that a complete hold up of enemy shipping could best be caused by laying a considerable number of mines in this Channel. The sides of the channel were marked at the two ends and in the middle by small towers intended for lights, and between these by a double row of buoys. For the attack the area was first lit with flares and in their light, three marker aircraft laid flame floats down two sides of the canal, using the buoys as their guide, so that the aircraft carrying the mines had a well marked line in which to put them. The marking was magnificently undertaken in the face of considerable searchlight and light flak opposition and the whole operation proved an outstanding success. The average height of laying was 300 feet. The operations against the Konigsberg canal a few nights later was on a smaller scale, but two aircraft succeeded in placing all their mines in the channel again from a very low height and in the light of flares. It was after these two attacks that all Swedish shipping was withdrawn from Baltic trade.
During the month valuable support was also given to the Army in the Falaise area, and many sorties were directed against the flying bomb sites. This commitment has now happily come to an end with the capture of the flying bomb country, but the following message from the Air Ministry to Bomber Command will show the considerable part which the Command played in reducing the scale of this menace.
“The continuous and heavy bombing of the experimental stations, production plants, launching sites, storage depots and installations, which has been carried out by your Command, not only imposed on the enemy a prolonged and unwelcome delay in the launching of his campaign, but effectively limited the scale of effort which he was able to make. This notable achievement has added one more to the long list of successful operations carried out by Bomber Command.”
The month ended with two attacks by the Group on Konigsberg, capital city of East Prussia. The first attack had all the elements necessary for a decisive success but the misunderstanding by a few crews of their briefed instructions, led to the attack, which was the most concentrated ever undertaken by the Group, being centred 2000 yards from the aiming point and doing relatively little damage. As a result a further attack had to be carried out in much less favourable weather. Happily this attack was successful and resulted in the almost complete destruction of the chief port supplying the German armies in East Prussia.
The success which has, in general, attended the attacks delivered by the Group over the past six months has been largely due to the system of low level marking by Mosquito aircraft which was first tried out by Wing Commander Cheshire with No. 617 Squadron. I am sure that all in the Group will join me in congratulating him on the award of the Victoria Cross in recognition of his great gallantry over 4 years of War and 100 operational sorties.
[Page break]
[Cartoon] SPORTS [Cartoon]
[Underlined] CRICKET [/underlined]
The end of the season weather proved most unkind, and most teams found their last month’s activities very limited. Scampton completed three games, beating Rustons and A.A. Command but losing to R.A.F. Cranwell. Dunholme lost to Ruston Bucyrus away, beat Hartsholme away, and the local Cadets at home. Metheringham managed to complete only one inter-station game, and then operations caused them to field a weak side and they were well beaten by R.C.A.F. Digby. Metheringham have now completed eleven games in the season, won five, lost five and drawn one. The outstanding teams of the season were Woodhall and Syerston, both of whom were blessed with “stars”. It was fitting for them to meet in the final of the Group Trophy, and although Syerston were unlucky in having lost S/Ldr MacKenzie, Woodhall put up a splendid effort to add the cricket Trophy to 54 Base collection.
[Underlined] SWIMMING [/underlined]
Coningsby Squadrons took advantage of the last day of summer, and held the Inter-Squadron Swimming Trophy in the Open Air Pool at Woodhall Spa in the 13th August. Events were held in Free Style, Breast and Back Stroke over the usual distances, together with plunging and diving. No.83 Squadron emerged as winners, with 26 points, the next best being Metheringham with 22.
[Underlined] BADMINTON [/underlined]
Several Stations find the Badminton Court in great demand. Dunholme have just concluded a Doubles Tournament in which Cpls Pigott and Hurst beat ACs King and Wright by 21 – 19, 18 – 21, 21 – 17. Scampton have a Badminton Club. Here is a big field for inter-station friendlies, and it is hoped Stations will not miss the opportunity of taking Badminton teams to play away matches during the coming winter. Inter-station games do much to improve the standard of play, by giving players an opportunity of comparing themselves with entirely new opposition. Mixed Doubles is a successful Badminton event, giving the W.A.A.F. another opportunity of a vigorous winter sport. A combined Badminton cum Darts cum Billiards Inter-station tourney cannot fail to be successful.
[Underlined] WINTER SPORTS [/underlined]
On September 4th a Conference of Group P.F.O’s met at this Headquarters to discuss the winter programme. The starting dates for the three knock-outs were agreed as follows:-
MATZ CUP (SOCCER) – Early November
WINES TROPHY (RUGGER) – Early December
MIXED HOCKEY – Mid October.
In the near future invitation letters for the above tournaments will be issued, and a busy season is anticipated. It is hoped that as many Stations as possible will support the Mixed Hockey Trophy; mixed hockey is an enjoyable sport and provides, together with Netball, an excellent opportunity for the W.A.A.F.
[Underlined] VARIETIES [/underlined]
Winthorpe sport an enthusiastic W.A.A.F. Soccer Eleven. Any other Station that can produce eleven Amazons is invited to roll up and meet the Winthorpians in battle.
[Underlined] TRAVELLING [/underlined]
It is hoped to obtain an early decision from Command on the 5 Group suggestion that the limit for which a station can provide sports transport be increased from 5 to 20 miles (single journey). This measure will give an immediate fillip to all inter-station sport and alleviate the task of P.F.O’s in endeavouring to get variety into the programmes.
ENGINEERING
Another record number of sorties has been carried out, which entailed in turn a record number of flying hours.
The flying hours for aircraft on charge in the Squadrons has exceeded anything which has yet been achieved, and is proof of what can be done by good technical organisation and co-operation and the will to keep aircraft serviceable on the part of Officers, N.C.O’s and men.
It has been rumoured that the establishment of tradesmen was based on the assumption that a Lancaster should produce 40 hours flying a month. The hours actually flown per Lancaster on charge has varied between 80 hours and 105 hours in Squadrons for August. This means of course that the Maintenance Personnel have worked twice as hard as the Establishment Committee calculated they would. Many problems present themselves as a result of this high pressure flying, but one point is predominant: the flying has been done, and at the month end serviceability was still 90% of the U.E. aircraft.
Quite a number of aircraft are still operating although their flying hours are in excess of 1,000. The condition and work required on the 3rd major should be watched, and full advantage must be taken of 43 Group facilities for those aircraft which will require too many man hours to overhaul locally.
The increased periodicity between inspections has been approved at 75 hours for Minor and 600 hours for Major Inspection for Lancaster aircraft. This amendment will be issued within the next few days by Bomber Command.
Of the 3,600 sorties detailed 1.66% were unsuccessful due to engineering faults. This constitutes a slight increase over the July total.
No Squadron was entirely free from unsuccessful sorties, and No.52 Base are to be congratulated on having the lowest percentage.
[Underlined] TRAINING UNIT SERVICEABILITY [/underlined]
[Table of Aircraft Serviceability by Training Unit]
WAR EFFORT
[Table of Aircraft Serviceability and Sorties, including Star Awards by Squadron]
Squadrons are placed in the above table in order of “Successful sorties per average aircraft on charge”. In view of their special duties Nos. 9, 49, 83, 97, 617, and 627 Squadrons are shown separately. In cases where a crew has flown in an aircraft of another Squadron the [missing] is divided between the two Squadrons.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO. 25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 2
[Page break]
GUNNERY
[Underlined] OPERATIONS [/underlined]
Compared with July, this month’s total of combats shows a big reduction. There have been a total of 70 combats for day and night operations; the claims being:-
7 destroyed
- probably destroyed, and
4 damaged.
During the daylight operation on Bois de Cassan on 6th August, 13 combats were reported, 2 enemy aircraft being claimed destroyed and 3 enemy aircraft damaged. In this operation the enemy fighters exploited the old tactics of attacking out of the sun, and all gunners should take note of this and ensure that in future daylight operations they are equipped with anti-glare glasses. In one instance a Lancaster was attacked from below and seriously damaged, two members of the crew being killed and another seriously wounded. The first intimation of the attack was when hits were registered on the Lancaster, the first burst from the enemy aircraft neutralising both rear turrets. Search must be carried out assiduously to cover all sections of the sky, above and below, by day as well as by night.
As a trial, tracer has been removed from the first 300 rounds in each belt, and gunners’ views are required after having used this sequence in combat, as to whether sighting is easier without the trace or vice versa. Gunners must appreciate that success, the destruction of the enemy fighter, will only be achieved by the correct application of the sight.
[Underlined] NIGHT AFFILIATION WITH HURRICANES [/underlined]
Night affiliation with Hurricanes of 1690 B.D.T. Flight has been available to Squadrons since the beginning of August. Full information and details have been sent out to Bases and Units under reference 293/Trg. dated 3rd August, 1944, and it is encouraging to note that some Squadrons have already availed themselves of these facilities. In view of the advent of longer hours of darkness which means operations of longer duration, it is most essential that gunners’ night vision and practical experience of night interception be brought to the highest standard of proficiency by constant practice. From results of recent exercises, the fighter has not been observed until a range of 150 – 200 yards. The remedies lie in the more skilful use of Early Warning Devices and better night vision.
[Underlined] ODD JOTTINGS [/underlined]
A 400 yards range will shortly be available to the Group and Dunham Cliff. Instructions will be issued shortly. It is hoped that another 400 yards range will be sited at Wainfleet which will be more accessible to those Stations in the Eastern half of the Group.
An Air Staff Instruction has been issued for Skeet Range Shooting. This is to be adhered to closely to obtain the maximum benefit from this form of training.
Details have now been issued regarding Night Vision Training Exercises in blacked-out gymnasiums. The maximum use should be made of this training which will combine fitness with night vision training.
THIS MONTH’S BAG
[Drawings]
[Underlined] DESTROYED [/underlined]
Sqdn A/C Letter Date Type of E/A
44 “A” 6.8.44. FW. 190
630 “L” 12/13.8.44. JU. 88
50 “L” 16/17.8.44. ME. 410
44 “F” 25/26.8.44. ME. 410
106 “B” 25/26.8.44. JU. 88
207 “K” 25/26.8.44. ME. 110
619 “G” 29/30.8.44. ME. 109
[Underlined] DAMAGED [/underlined]
Sqdn A/C Letter Date Type of E/A
57 “U” 6.8.44. ME. 109F
57 “B” 6.8.44. ME. 109F
57 “D” 6.8.44. ME. 107F
9 “B” 12.8.44. JU. 88
All the above claims have been confirmed by Headquarters, Bomber Command.
[Underlined] AIR TRAINING CARRIED OUT IN CONVERSION UNITS AND SQUADRONS DURING AUGUST. [/underlined]
[Table of Training Exercises by Squadron and Conversion Units]
X 49 Squadron employed on special training.
GRAND TOTAL OF FIGHTER AFFILIATION EXERCISES FOR AUGUST:- 2136
[Underlined] No. 1690 B.D.T. FLIGHT [/underlined] Grand total 760 hours and 712 details.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 3
[Page break]
TRAINING
During August 51 Base produced 151 crews and topped the previous month’s record by one crew. This was achieved despite several days unseasonable weather. The Base is confident that it can improve on this total for September. No. 5 L.F.S. continued to take Lancaster Conversion in its stride and completed its third month with over 2,000 hours flying.
Final training in Squadrons was abreast of the time throughout, and the Base Training Pilots and Flight Engineers did a good job in getting the crews fit for operations without any hold up despite the increased number of crews passing through their hands. 10 and 20 sortie checks were also carried out. Gunnery categorisation is now forging ahead, and towards the end of the month categorisation of Navigators was introduced. This will be followed shortly by categorisation of pilots and Flight Engineers.
The detached elements of 1690 B.D.T. Flight, comprising Martinets and Spitfires, were withdrawn from 51 Base airfields and centralised with the Hurricanes at Syerston. This did not interfere with fighter affiliation training and 1690 B.D.T. Flight as a single Unit are now providing both day and night affiliation for the Group from one Station, and in addition are affiliating with No.49 Squadron for special training. The number of details flown and gunners exercised are dealt with elsewhere in the News.
The formation of 1668 Lancaster Conversion Unit and 1669 Halifax Conversion Unit also took place during the month, and 5 Group is responsible for the training up to the present.
No.1668 Conversion Unit is due to open on the 1st September, and 1669 later in the month.
EQUIPMENT
[Underlined] ECONOMY IN THE USE OF EQUIPMENT [/underlined]
The war has now entered its sixth year and although things are going better for us, Equipment Officers should still strive after perfection in economy of equipment. This is an old and well known subject, but owing to its importance, it cannot be rammed home often enough.
Only by frequent review of establishments can correct provisioning be maintained. If provisioning is good, then the Station will not want and Station Sections will cease to hoard.
Therefore, all Equipment Officers can, by good provisioning, plus foresight, and good liaison with the other Sections on the Station, make every item of equipment do its correct job and prevent waste.
[Underlined] A.M.O’s OF INTEREST [/underlined]
A.738/44 (Parts III, IV and V) Civilian Repair Organisation – Repair of R.A.F. Equipment.
A.759/44 Contract Washing, Procedure for. Articles of Service clothing and equipment in the U.K.
A.774/44 Introduction of new small F.600.
A.775/44 Preparation of Carriers’ Notes.
A.806/44 Removal of components from aircraft in Category AC.
N.828/44 Revision of Scale of Watch, Clock and Instrument repair tools.
N.846/44 Revised scale of issue of Testers Insulation resistance, types A, B, C and D.
N.873/44 Introduction of Lubricator sets for Type B Mechanical Sweeper.
PHOTOGRAPHY
Condensation has again been the cause of a number of failures, and it is now considered that the majority of instances are the result of conditions at Base rather than conditions at or en route to the target. Experiments are being conducted to determine whether it is practicable to remove the register glass in the camera. So far success has attended our efforts and results are being watched carefully. If this can be done, then one of the surfaces on which condensation can form will have been eliminated.
Composite film join failures are still occurring and it has been decided to use French chalk on the linen side of the tape in order to prevent this sticking to the register glass of the camera. Photographic N.C.O’s are to select the tape used for this purpose with great care, as the quality of different rolls varies considerably.
The titling of photographs often leaves much to be desired. Operational air photographs without adequate and readable titling are useless. N.C.O’s are therefore to watch this point carefully. The printing of films could be much improved in many cases. Whilst speed is essential in the production of results, do not let the result be marred by bad workmanship. A green, badly titled print is an offence to the photographer’s eye.
The use of Standard Day Panchromatic Film on Day Operations should make for better quality results with much finer grain, but will, however, necessitate more frequent magazine loading in the changes from Day to Night Operations. Very great care must be exercised in handling the film during these changes.
Standard Day Film is to be used whenever possible for day operations.
ANALYSIS OF PHOTOGRAPHY
[Table of Photographic Results by Squadron]
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 4
[Page break]
GARDENING
Business has been brisk this month In all departments of the offensive, but the Gardeners have certainly had their share of the task, and excellent results have been achieved, in High and Low Planting. The Command Gardening, totalling 1587 vegetables has been divided as follows:-
(a) A constant stream of planters directed at the U-Boat Bases on the West Coast of France.
(b) Large scale operations in the Baltic area with the object of dislocating the enemy’s sea-borne supplies for the Russian Front, and of severing all trade with Scandinavia.
[Underlined] The U-Boat Offensive. [/underlined] 5 Group, represented by 44, 97, 619 and 57 Squadrons carried out 6 operations in these areas, laying accurately by H.2.S. with slight to moderate interference from Flak.
[Underlined] Results. [/underlined] At the time of going to press, it is believed that all West Coast bases have been closed to U-Boat traffic for some time. This is more than embarrassing to a frantic enemy endeavouring to check our advances. The U-boat command must now be at pains to form any systematic plan of control for their U-boats already on patrol in the Atlantic. Individual Commanders are certain to be confused, dissatisfied and hampered by the continuous stream of contradictory instructions issuing from their superiors, on the best methods and routes for their return. Offensive patrols – already minimised to a large extent – will now have to be reduced to even shorter periods through lack of fuel, food and water; in short, lack to the North Sea Bases they will have to go, and the days of the U-boats are numbered. In co-operation with out Gardening efforts in this sector, the most striking results have been achieved by the brilliant bombing of 617 and 9 Squadrons on the Pens and Berths in these Bases. Naval Patrols have also been most successful along this stretch of water, and the future reading in Weekly Intelligence Reports should contain some interesting home truths of our enemy’s state of mind.
[Underlined] The Baltic Offensive. [/underlined] Among the many and varied targets on hand during this past month, not the least were our long and hazardous trips far into the Baltic. The nature of these operations involved dangerous low flying through heavy and light flak, concentrations of searchlights, and surprise flak ships placed in the most awkward positions. On the 16/17th August, the first strike at Stettin took place, and a special Gardening operation was co-ordinated in the main attack. 23 Lancasters were detailed from 44, 106, 57 and 97 Squadrons to pounce on the Kaiser Fahrt Channel, 97 Squadron performing marking duties ad carrying two choice vegetables apiece.
Little was known of the garden to be attacked, the only guide being the Light houses positioned in pairs, every 3 1/2 miles along the channel 157 yards wide, by about 10 miles in length. Careful timing, concise intercommunication, and cool heads were the Orders of the Day. When the force arrived the Light houses were lit, and remained so for sufficient time to reveal the line of the channel. Down went 97 Squadron to mark at mast head height with lines of flame floats. The Controller was first to mark, and laid most accurately, which was quickly confirmed by his Deputy flying between the Lighthouses at the time. The Gardeners were then called in to lay at 200 feet, meanwhile the main bomber force went for the town of Stettin, and other Groups were planting furiously to seaward. Two Gardeners were unfortunately shot down in the area – including the controller after performing an excellent task – two more were forced to jettison through flak damage, three were forced to jettison and return early with engine trouble, and two were unhappily non-starters. Out of 81 vegetables carried, 61 were successfully planted. It is estimated that a very high percentage of these now lie gracefully in the narrow waterway, including two discreetly dropped 3 1/2 miles inside the canal itself by Z/106 Squadron – a very fine piece of work. It can therefore, be said that this enterprising evolution was carried out with highly commendable skill and determination on the part of all crews in the face of intense opposition, and their combined team-work has added a further page in the history, already outstanding, of the Group’s Gardening efforts.
On the 26/27th, a similar operation took place, but this time in the Konigsberg area. Extensive planting took place to seaward in the approaches to important Baltic harbours, in which 44, 106 and 630 Squadrons took part, while four selected crews from 44, 57, 106 and 207 Squadrons made for the Konigsberg inland canal.
Illumination was provided by the main force as they retired from their target area, enabling the Gardeners clearly to identify their target. Unfortunately two aircraft were seen to be hit by flak and did not return, but R/106 and E/207 pressed home their attack with great zeal, and skilfully planted 10 of the best in the waterway. A fine example of courage and airmanship.
The main force returned to this target again on 29/30th and this time opportunity was seized to back up the previous lays in the outer gardens. 10 Lancasters representing 44, 49, 106 and 630 Squadrons completed a 100% planting of forty Mark IV vegetables with little opposition using H 2 S from high altitude. Very good records have already been received from P.P.I. photographs.
[Underlined] All is not well in the Baltic [/underlined] – The Swedish Home Service stated on the 22nd August that the State War Insurance Board had decided to stop granting war risk insurance to German Baltic Harbours for the time being, on account of the prevailing conditions.
The following tribute to the efficiency of British mining operations was paid by Rear Admiral Gadow, the Naval correspondent of the Deutsche Alhgemeine Zeitung. He wrote that the mining of the shipping routes of the North Sea had reached such a pitch of intensity that it was putting the heaviest strain on the German minesweeping flotillas.
[Underlined] General Summary [/underlined]
Sorties – 65
Successful – 53
% Successful – 81 1/2
Aircraft Missing – 4
Nights operated – 8
Mileage Flown – 96,312
Total Planted successfully – [underlined] 260 [/underlined]
[Underlined] NAVAL SUPPORT [/underlined]
In close connection with the general plan of denying the U-Boat Bases to the enemy is also the all important object of preventing the enemy from totally destroying or blocking these bases before they can be used by the Allies. With such enormous forces having to be maintained in Europe it is essential that we should have every available harbour working at full pressure for the off loading of stores and equipment from suitable big ship berths, rail and roadway centres. The enemy has been quick to realise this point, and has taken every step to bring about total destruction where he can, by the use of expert demolition squads, and the subsidiary use of Block ships in harbours.
Immediate steps were necessary, and taken, in the case of Brest, by allocating Block ship targets to 5 Group Squadrons. Great care and attention to detail wrought havoc to the enemy’s intentions, as one by one, the ships at anchor in the harbour were singled out for devastating attack, and successfully sent to the bottom by pin point bombing. The 11,000 ton tanker capable of completely filling the main entrance was the first to ‘settle’ safely in her berth, quickly followed by the aged French Cruiser “Gueydon”, a Sperbrecher berthed alongside the quay, and the half completed battleship “Clemenceau”. This stripped the saboteurs of any immediate facilities, but as they had previously disclosed their intentions by sinking one tanker and two small coasters near the entrance, the job was completed by satisfactorily destroying one large Merchant Ship and a large Sperbrecher undergoing repairs in the dry docks.
Such accuracy in bombing ships, for the sorties carried out, has seldom been reached before; the Squadrons involved are to be congratulated on their work, and helping hand given to the Royal Navy, which will greatly assist the common task of feeding our armies in the future.
WAR SAVINGS
(a) Approximate savings in pence per head.
(b) Approximate percentage of personnel saving.
(c) Total savings for the month.
[Table of War Savings by Station]
TOTAL SAVED [underlined] £6,625.15.5. [/underlined]
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 5
[Page break]
SECOND THOUGHTS FOR PILOTS
Longer nights and longer sorties make accurate flying more important than ever. Here are three occasions when accurate flying is essential if you are to keep “ON TRACK AND ON TIME”.
(i) On the short leg out of the target. An incorrect airspeed can make you overshoot and put you several miles off track.
(ii) During the banking search. If poorly flown, or done more to one side than another, you will also wander off track.
(iii) During the corkscrew. If carelessly executed you might get on a reciprocal. It’s been done before.
[Underlined] FLYING INTO CLOUD [/underlined]
It takes all pilots 5 to 10 seconds to “settle down” on instruments after changing over from visual flying. Always go over the instruments well BEFORE entering cloud, and avoid adding that unsettled feeling to other difficulties that you may encounter. Check pitot head “ON”, Suction on both pesco pumps, all instruments O.K., and note outside air temperatures.
[Underlined] NOTES ON PURE FLYING [/underlined]
(i) Look round before starting a turn.
(ii) In turns, correct slip or skid with rudder and keep the nose in the correct position on the horizon with the elevators, not rudder.
(iii) Aileron drag produces yaw, and it is most notable when a large amount of aileron is applied. The solution is in the rudder. Use it.
[Underlined] USE OF BOMB DOOR SELECTOR LEVER [/underlined]
If the bomb door selector lever is half-up or half-down, you will get a runaway film on the camera. So make sure the lever comes right down when selecting bomb doors OPEN. Avoid selecting bomb doors open until on the bombing run, as each time they are selected open an exposure is turned over in the camera. If you have to test the bomb doors ensure that the bombsight is switched off first.
[Underlined] FIRE IN THE AIR – DON’T DIVE [/underlined]
Diving an aircraft in an attempt to put out a fire is forbidden. It invariably leads to disaster because:-
(i) The increased air flow in a dive feeds and spreads the fire.
(ii) The risk of structural failure, if the airframe is weakened by fire, is increased.
(iii) Baling out is difficult, and in a violent dive almost impossible.
[Underlined] CREW AIRMANSHIP [/underlined]
Most new captains have at least 2 – 300 hours flying experience. The crews may not have more than 100 hours. Take practical steps to ensure your crew’s airmanship is as good as your own. Remember the old adage “A chain is as strong as its weakest link”.
(Continued at foot of col. 2)
[Underlined] OVERSHOOTING [/underlined]
The length of landing run depends on many variables, including airspeed at touchdown, strength of wind, all up weight, amount of flap used and strength of brakes. The bar of white lights 800 yds from the upwind end of the runway, therefore, can only be used as a measure of distance and not as a safety limit before landing.
[Underlined] Motto for the Month:- [/underlined]
“IF IN DOUBT – GO ROUND AGAIN”
HONOURS & AWARDS [Drawing]
The following IMMEDIATE awards were approved during the month:-
[Underlined] 44 SQUADRON [/underlined]
S/Ldr F.W. THOMPSON, D.F.C. D.S.O.
[Underlined] 50 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/Lt B.H. BOTHA, D.F.C. D.S.O.
[Underlined] 57 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O W.H. GOLDING D.F.C.
W/Cdr H.Y. HUMPHREYS D.F.C.
[Underlined] 83 SQUADRON [/underlined]
S/Ldr L.C. DEANE, D.F.C. D.S.O.
A/W/C G.F. GEORGESON, D.F.C. D.S.O.
W/Cdr J.R. JEUDWINE, O.B.E., D.F.C. D.S.O.
A/W/C J. WOODROFFE. D.F.C.
P/O R.R. ORMISTON D.F.C.
F/O N.O. JOHNSON D.F.C.
[Underlined] 207 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O R.L. ETHERIDGE D.F.C.
F/S D. BRYDEN D.F.M.
[Underlined] 467 SQUADRON [/underlined]
Sgt R.O. NORFOLK D.F.M.
[Underlined} 617 SQUADRON [/underlined]
A/F/L B.W. CLAYTON, D.F.C. C.G.M. D.S.O.
A/S/L D.J. SHANNON, D.S.O. D.F.C. &BAR BAR TO D.S.O.
W/Cdr J.B. TAIT, D.S.O., & BAR, D.F.C. 2ND BAR TO D.S.O.
[Underlined] 630 SQUADRON [/underlined]
A/W/C W.A. DEAS, D.F.C. & BAR D.S.O.
The following NON-IMMEDIATE awards were approved during the month:-
[Underlined] 9 SQUADRON [/underlined]
W/O H.F. ROBINSON D.F.C.
F/Sgt J. MICHAEL D.F.M.
F/Sgt C.R. BOLT D.F.M.
P/O A.W.M. BIRCHENOUGH D.F.C.
F/Sgt BOWER D.F.M.
Sgt H.O. SMITH D.F.M.
F/Sgt W.E. MILLER D.F.M.
F/Sgt. C.E. BOWYER D.F.M.
P/O F.S. COLMAN D.F.C.
[Underlined] 44 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O O.J. REYLAND D.F.C.
Sgt J.B. COWAN D.F.M.
P/O J. WOULD D.F.C.
Sgt K. WOOLARD D.F.M.
[Underlined] 44 SQUADRON (CONTD) [/underlined]
P/O R.L. DAVISON D.F.C.
Sgt R. WOODWARDS D.F.M.
F/Sgt D.M. MURRAY D.F.M.
P/O V.G. WILLIAMS D.F.C.
Sgt E.C. WREN D.F.M.
Sgt H.L. ROBERTS D.F.M.
Sgt J.H. DAVIDSON D.F.M.
F/Sgt K.F. LETTS D.F.M.
Sgt J. MICHIE D.F.M.
Sgt W.H.R. CHAMPION D.F.M.
[Underlined] 49 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O J.J. LETT D.F.C.
P/O J.C. MC.KAY D.F.C.
Sgt G.J.W. PARKINSON D.F.M.
P/O J.A. JONES D.F.C.
F/O J.H. SIMPSON D.F.C.
P/O R.H. EWENS D.F.C.
F/O K.S. STOKOE D.F.C.
F/Sgt J.R. PEAKER D.F.M.
F/O L.P. MAPP D.F.C.
[Underlined] 50 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O L. CREED D.F.C.
F/Sgt S. BROWN D.F.M.
F/Lt F.W. CHADWICK D.F.C.
F/Lt A. HAWORTH D.F.C.
P/O J. WATT D.F.C.
F/O W.F. SWINYARD D.F.C.
F/Sgt F.E. BURTON D.F.M.
F/O A.H. CRAWFORD D.F.C.
Sgt D. GROSCOP D.F.M.
P/O D.S. RICHARDSON D.F.C.
F/O H.A. HUGHES D.F.C.
F/O A.R. VERRIER D.F.C.
F/Sgt L.C. HOGBEN D.F.M.
Sgt C.A. HORN D.F.M.
[Underlined] 61 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/Sgt K. VOWE D.F.M.
W/O J. GRAHAM D.F.C.
P/O A.E. STONE D.F.C.
Sgt S. BILLINGTON D.F.M.
P/O R.A. GRIFFIN D.F.C.
F/O S.A. JENNINGS D.F.C.
P/O C.W.J. FRANKLIN D.F.C.
F/O J.C. HODGKINS D.F.C.
Sgt W. DACRE D.F.M.
F/Sgt O.H. MILLAR D.F.M.
A/F/O J.E. GIBBERD D.F.C.
[Underlined] 83 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O R.A.C. HELLIER, D.F.C. Bar to D.F.C.
W/O C.W. GRAY, D.F.M. D.F.C.
P/O M.A. ROONEY D.F.C.
P/O C.E. HAYNES D.F.C.
P/O C.E. ERICKSON D.F.C.
P/O F.A. MARDEN D.F.C.
P/O C.W. EARNSHAW D.F.C.
F/O R.E.H. FOOTE D.F.C.
F/O W.E. SIDDLE D.F.C.
P/O N.J. CORNELL D.F.C.
F/O C. BRUDETT D.F.C.
F/O R.E. FOSTER D.F.C.
W/O J.C. PARKER D.F.C.
W/O A.C. STRICKLAND D.F.C.
W/O E. PLUNKETT D.F.C.
F/O H.A. DICKINSON D.F.C.
F/O C.J. PURSEY D.F.C.
F/Sgt C. CASSIE D.F.M.
F/Sgt D.A. LAWES D.F.M.
F/Sgt M.J. BLOWER D.F.M.
Sgt F. WILDMAN D.F.M.
Sgt A.N. JONES D.F.M.
F/Sgt F. JOHNSON [sic]
P/O C.J. DUGGIN D.F.C.
(Contd. On Page 17 Col 2)
5 GROUP NEWS, NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 6
[Page break]
SIGNALS
[Underlined] SIGNALS TRAINING [/underlined]
The month of August saw the start of controlled daylight formation flying, and again the Wireless Operator (Air) came in for a fair share of the work. The Master Bomber and Base Leader’s Wireless Operator had the task of transmitting instructions to the force, and reception of their transmission was very good.
From the W/T point of view, the control of operations during August was very good. The standard of operating by Controller’s Wireless Operators was good throughout, and the work of these operators is appreciated. It was unfortunate that, on the night on which both Link 1 and Link 2 failed to reach the target area, the primary W/T frequency was heavily jammed. We are now all well aware of the tremendous effect of “Jostle” – it really does amount to complete wipe out over a large band.
The initiative shown by the Link 3 Wireless Operator in taking over control, assessing the impracticability of the primary frequency for W/T control, issuing instructions to change to the alternative, and using this channel for W/T control, was very commendable. Also, in this respect, our congratulations go to the 97 Squadron Wireless Operator who, although not detailed as a deputy link, assumed the duties of one, and acknowledged all instructions sent by the Link3. A very good show by both Wireless Operators (Air).
[Underlined] CONTROLLERS’ OPERATORS [/underlined]
No. 54 Base again led the field in the number of Wireless Operators who carried out successful tests as laid down in No. 5 Group Signals Instruction No.13. No.55 Base have now taken up the challenge, and very soon we hope to see a healthy competition between all Bases in carrying out these tests.
[Underlined] GROUP W/T EXERCISE [/underlined]
Daylight operations during the month interfered a little with the Group W/T Exercise though some Squadrons made a good attempt to carry out every exercise. This is, perhaps, the best W/T Operating practice afforded to Wireless Operators while on the Squadrons, and every effort must be made to ensure that every Wireless Operator does take part. Some good exercises were carried out, but we still have a few offenders who will not listen out before transmitting; some still send VE before callsigns, and the proper use of QVU is not made. Signals Leaders please note.
[Underlined] EARLY WARNING DEVICES [/underlined]
The use of Early Warning Devices during the month was curtailed quite a bit by daylight operations, but, when required on night operations, they again proved their worth, judging by the number of contacts reported. Now that Squadron Signals Leaders are being given a three days course at the Bomber Command Tactics School, some very valuable information on the tactical use of Early Warning Devices and Radio Countermeasures should be gained, and passed on to the Squadrons, thus showing W/Op (Air) the value of his efforts.
[Underlined] GOOD SHOWS [/underlined]
An outstanding example and inspiration to all Wireless Operators (Air) was given by F/Lt Bean, Station Signals Officer, Coningsby, on the night of 16/17th August. The Controller detailed for the operation that night was without a complete crew, and F/Lt Bean, who had been primarily responsible for the high standard of W/T operating carried out by the Controllers’ Wireless Operators on 54 Base, and who had himself passed the test laid down in 5 Group S.I. No. 13, was detailed to carry out the duties of Controller’s Wireless Operator (Air).
Whilst over the target, the aircraft was hit and set on fire. F/Lt Bean, who was already transmitting his Captain’s instructions for the attack, sent out in plain language to the force the message “Hit and on fire”. Immediately after this transmission, he transmitted further instructions to the force to carry on the attack.
F/Lt Bean set a very fine example of coolness and devotion to duty, and it is hoped that he and all members of his crew were able to make a safe landing.
Further good shows were the commendable efforts of the two 97 Squadron Wireless Operators already mentioned, and a Wireless Operator of 44 Squadron, who, while sending an immediate sighting report of a dinghy, switched his I.F.F. to distress while over the dinghy, informed the M/F section of his action, and when leaving the area again informed the M/F Section of time of switching off. This action enabled a good fix to be taken on his aircraft. It is to be noted that an aircraft crew were rescued in this area the following day.
[Underlined] SIGNALS FAILURES [/underlined]
The percentage of Signals failures against the 3,600 sorties flown in August was 1.722. This is an increase of 0.32 per cent over the figure for July. There were no failures which prevented aircraft from taking off on account of Signals defects. Two early returns were attributed to Signals “equipment failures”. The remainder of the failures reported had no adverse effect on any of the operations.
Over 80% of the total defects were due to component failures, the others being under the category “Miscellaneous”. There were no “manipulation” or “servicing” failures. The result of five of the Signals defect investigations was “No Fault Found”. This is a most unsatisfactory type of report and every effort must be made to get at the roots of such reported defects.
[Underlined] V.H.F. [/underlined]
During the past month, replacement TR.1143 equipment has been in very short supply. It appears that the production of this equipment is decreasing whilst the requirements of A.D.G.B. are steadily increasing. As a result is has been decided to withdraw TR.1143’s and TR.1143A’s from all 5 Group aircraft, and refit the Group with the American version of this equipment, which is known as SCR.522. The problem presenting itself with this changeover is that a complete change of frequencies is also taking place. This means that a normal, steady re-equipping of, say, six aircraft per Squadron each day cannot be done, because all aircraft must be on the same V.H.F. frequencies, and TR.1143 crystals for the new frequencies are not available.
Full quotas of SCR.522 equipment have already been received by 53 and 54 Bases, and now 52 Base have received 75% of their quota. As the equipment arrives at the Squadrons, it is being set up to the new frequencies, modified and bench tested. This will ensure that, when sufficient equipment has been received to fit all Squadrons, a 100 per cent changeover throughout the Group can be effected upon receipt of the executive from this Headquarters.
[Underlined] RADAR [/underlined]
During August the disposition of Radar personnel underwent several changes. Radar Officers have been deleted from Squadron strength and placed on Stations as Station Radar Officers. A Radar Officer has also been allocated to R. & I. at Base Stations. Where two Squadrons are based on a Station, the Station Radar Officer controls the Radar servicing of both. The Radar mechanics are divided between the Daily Servicing Section and the R. & I. Section, and thus a division is made in the two maintenance aspects. This should improve the organisation very considerably. The decision to use Wireless Operators (Ground) to assist in Radar Servicing is now being implemented, and the advantage to be derived from this new arrangement will be self-evident.
[Underlined] LORAN [/underlined]
Although the policy on the use of Loran has not yet been decided upon, the intervening period between now and its installation should be utilised to train the greatest number of Radar Mechanics possible on its maintenance. The six mechanics who attended the course at Headquarter, Bomber Command, were selected as evenly as possible from Bases, and now they, with the aid of those who have had previous experience with the equipment in America, will instruct personnel within their respective Bases. Sets of equipment have been distributed to all Bases for instructional purposes. All relevant technical literature available in the form of the Bomber Command Radar Servicing Manual, Section XIII and C.D. O.526-A, has been issued.
[Underlined] REPEATER INDICATORS [/underlined]
Numerous unexpected delays have occurred in the production of these indicators, due to the great difficulty in procuring certain components. In some cases diversion orders had to be placed, and consequently temporary bottlenecks developed. Metal screens for the C.R.T. are extremely difficult to obtain, and in an effort to complete a sufficient number of indicators to equip the two Squadrons at Skellingthorpe, all redundant screens have been collected from Stations within the Group. It is hoped that by the time this summary comes off the press, this fitting will have been accomplished as well as that of the remaining Monica IIIA and V Squadrons. We take this opportunity of commending those concerned in 53 Base for their very fine work in constructing these units.
[Underlined] GEE [/underlined]
The serviceability of Gee maintained its usual high standard, during the past month, although we did not succeed in boosting it much above July’s figure (.02% to be exact). When it is remembered that at times less Gee sets were held than aircraft, all sue credit should be given to the maintenance personnel for keeping the serviceability at this high level. There were a total of 3207 sorties completed, and out pf these 88 difficulties arose, giving an overall percentage of 97.26. The difficulty in the supply position appears to be due to the shortage of crystals, and so,
(Continued on page 8, col. 1)
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 7
[Page break]
SIGNALS (CONT.)
bearing this in mind, all crystals should be returned to Group Headquarters for repair and re-issue immediately they become unserviceable.
[Underlined] H 2 S MARK II AND MARK III [/underlined]
Despite the new switching procedure used on two operations during August, the serviceability of H 2 S Mark II was slightly improved. For an increase in sorties of approximately 30% (1635 sorties), 90.52% were completely serviceable. Headquarters, Bomber Command, are analysing the effect of delayed switching of the modulator at high altitudes, and will, if found necessary, take adequate steps to counteract any adverse effect it may have. It would appear, judging from the last operation on which this procedure was used, that provided this switching is done at altitudes of 2000 – 4000 feet, there would be no decrease in serviceability.
Unfortunately Mark III serviceability dropped below July’s figure by 4.73%. Of the 172 sorties completed, 19 developed defects. The percentage free from defects was therefore 88.96. Two of the faults were due to enemy action, and amongst the remaining 17 there were no outstanding component failures. Nos. 83 and 97 Squadrons are almost completely fitted to Mark III now, and all replacements are of this same type. Several stabilised scanners have been received but at this stage it is difficult to assess their value and efficiency.
[Underlined] FISHPOND [/underlined]
Last month saw a slight improvement over July in the serviceability of Fishpond. 1424 sorties were completed, and of these 90.52% gave very satisfactory results. The minimum range of this device is one of the major problems and is one which requires continual attention. Where any evidence exists that the minimum range is abnormally high, immediate steps must be taken to bring it down to the shortest range possible by replacing the defective units.
[Underlined] MONICA [/underlined]
Monica IIIA resumed its normal position in serviceability during August. There were 36 defects out of 941 sorties completed, giving a percentage of 96.18 serviceable, or an increase of 2.36% over July. The end of the Monica IIIA supply has now been reached, but our first issue of Monica IIIC is being made from Headquarters Bomber Command early in September, to Waddington. Future replacements will be Mark IIIC, and should be in good supply at a very early date.
Monica V, by relinquishing second place, which it held in July, did not by any means experience a decrease in serviceability. Rather, an increase was obtained, and out of 649 sorties completed, 96.0% functioned in the most efficient manner. This fact adds further evidence that, regardless of the odds which may exist, no problem is insurmountable when the proper thought and energy is applied.
ARMAMENT
[Underlined] BOMBING [/underlined]
Headquarters, Bomber Command Armament Bulletin, Issue No. 6, dated September 1st, covers many of the points which would otherwise have been raised in this News.
Special attention is drawn to the responsibilities of Armament Officers in connection with bomb aiming problems. There are two courses now running. The first is the Mark XIV Bombsight Course, at present conducted in No. 4 Group. F/Lt Rogers, the Armament Officer from Winthorpe attended the first course. It is hoped that the Group will have further vacancies on subsequent courses, and it will be possible in time to give all Armament Officers the benefit of such a course. The second course is the Mark XIV Bombsight Analysis Course now being run at Bruntingthorpe. The first few vacancies on the technical courses are being allocated to Base Electrical Officers, and subsequent vacancies will be allocated to Armament Officers.
[Underlined] CIRCULATION OF INFORMATION [/underlined]
Do you circulate your copies of the Armament Bulletin to other Sections who may be interested in the various items? This is particularly applicable to Issue No.6.
[Underlined] DE-BELTING AMMUNITION [/underlined]
It looks as though we have at last found a solution to that vexing problem of de-belting and cleaning ammunition. The machines referred to on Page 29 of the Armament Bulletin are now improved and working at R.A.F. Station, Swinderby, where the Base Armament Officer will be pleased to demonstrate this equipment. Owing to the pressure of operations it is difficult to lay down a time for a visit, but Base Armament Officers should contact S/Ldr Rowed, and make arrangements to see and copy this equipment.
[Underlined] BOMB CARRIERS [/underlined]
Credit is due to R.A.F. Station, Bardney, for producing a prototype Triple Adaptor for the Lancaster centre Stations, to take 3 x 500 lb H.E. bombs.
[Underlined] ARMAMENT QUIZ [/underlined]
Do you know what the letter “G” on a bomb trolley means? If not refer to A.M.O. N.1236/43.
[Underlined] GUNS AND GUNNERY [/underlined]
With the approach of winter, gunnery problems will become more acute. In your keenness to obtain gun serviceability, do not forget that gun aiming problems as well as bomb aiming problems are Armament problems.
[Underlined] CO-OPERATION [/underlined]
Co-operation should extend beyond one’s own Unit, and when stores are required urgently for operational use by other Stations, any delay in delivery means inconvenience to other Units. If this Headquarters asks you to send stores immediately by road, make certain that any delay in sending them is reduced to a minimum, and if such a delay is unavoidable, let us know – in other words keep us in the picture.
[Underlined] WAR EFFORT [/underlined]
August has been a busy month, and all previous records have been easily surpassed by the totals of 3,600 sorties and 14,952 tons of bombs dropped.
Credit is due to all Armament personnel in having the goods ready for delivery to the place where it hurts the Hun most.
[Underlined] BOMB DUMPS [/underlined]
In order to keep up the tonnage of bombs dropped on the Hun, Bomb Dump organisation must be still further improved, and every yard of storage space used to the best advantage.
ARMAMENT FAILURES TABLE
[Table of Armament Failures by Squadron]
A = MANIPULATION B = MAINTENANCE C = ICING
D = TECHNICAL E = ELECTRICAL F = OBSCURE
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 8
[Page break]
NAVIGATION
Fifteen months ago our chief concern was whether the Navigational standard was sufficiently high to ensure that all aircraft would reach the target. With the increase in the number of aids available, this problem has solved itself, and our main worries these days are the finer points of navigation, i.e. rigid adherence to track and timing, and the finding, and the finding of accurate winds for bombing. The standard achieved in track keeping during the last two or three months does not leave much to be desired. We must now concentrate on the two remaining difficulties, i.e. Timing and bombing wind velocities.
If we are to achieve the concentration in timing necessitated by current tactics then all aircraft must arrive at each turning point en route and at the target within ± 1 minute. It is very hard to do this, but on the other hand it must be done. Constant checking of ground speeds and revision of E.T.A’s plus a change of air speed where necessary is the only way that really accurate timing can be achieved. Every Navigator must check and re-check his E.T.A’s as often as possible and must revise the air speed as soon as it becomes evident that revision is essential.
The finding of an accurate bombing wind in the target area is equally important. Here again this is only possible if those Navigators detailed as windfinders realise their responsibility, and work to the utmost limits of accuracy, e.g. do all the plotting necessary to find the target area wind on a large scale chart, plot air positions and fixes by use of dividers and finally check all computations and plotting again and again.
Station Navigation Officers are to concentrate on these two points during the next two months and are to make sure that all Navigators realise the necessity for accurate time keeping, and the finding of accurate wind velocities in the target area.
[Underlined] BROADCAST WIND VELOCITIES [/underlined]
The broadcast wind velocity procedure has been used on five occasions this month. In each instance the results have been very good. It is good to note that the majority of Navigators are transmitting every wind they find. This is of course essential if the Met. Staff are to note any sudden change in the wind velocity.
It would be wise to recall the Berlin raid of March this year, when the winds experienced were 50 miles an hour stronger than forecast. This change took place very suddenly and a vast majority of Navigators suspected their instruments and refused to believe the wind velocity could have increased by such a large amount. The result was that almost all of them “watered down” their wind velocities before transmitting. The Met. Staff, having no other data to work on, had to assume that the ”watered down” wind velocities were correct. At this time not many Squadrons in the Group were equipped with H 2 S, and also aircraft were flying over a continuous sheet of cloud. Consequently the majority of aircraft had to fly on D.R. using broadcast wind velocities for a period of 4 hours. At least 50% of the aircraft were 70 miles south on the return journey, and eventually passed over the Northern fringe of the Ruhr defences, without of course, realising where they were. The results were not as disastrous as they may well have been.
This must not happen again. Once again we repeat “[sic] If you obtain a wind velocity differing from the previous found wind velocities, then provided you are confident about the fix obtained and have checked the A.P.I. you must transmit that found wind velocity. If it is wrong it will be very apparent to the Met. Staff and no harm will be done. If, however, it is right and you do not transmit it, then a great deal of harm may well be done. Read this paragraph over again very carefully and digest it well.
Now to come back to a more cheery and less threatening note. The results obtained this last month have, as was said earlier, been very good. There are still, however, one or two points which are not entirely satisfactory. The chief one is coding and transmission of wind messages. A number of instances occur where the message is coded incorrectly and sometimes this is not very apparent to the receiver of the message. Also Wireless Operators make mistakes in transmission. In each instance the message is of no use. It is very annoying to think that you have worked so hard finding an accurate wind velocity, and then nullified its value by a small slip like wrong coding or transmission. Another point is that wind finders tend to slacken off on the return journey. It is realised that fatigue is partly responsible for this, but nevertheless the wind still blows and will still play tricks on you. So [underlined] DON’T [/underlined] slacken on the return journey no matter how great the temptation.
The best wind finders on each operation were as follows:-
1. BRUNSWICK (12/13.8) – F/O REID (106 Sqdn)
2. STETTIN (16/17.8) – F/O BAILEY (630 Sqdn)
3. DARMSTADT (25/26.8) – F/S KNIGHT ( 44 Sqdn)
4. KONIGSBERG (26/27.8) – F/O YOUDALE (619 Sqdn)
5. KONIGSBERG (29/30.8) – F/O McCAMM (630 Sqdn)
Good work – keep it up!
[Underlined] GENERAL HINTS IN NAVIGATIONAL PROCEDURE [/underlined]
(i) Don’t “flap” – ever!
(ii) Always work to a system, but see that the system is good. The cycle of operations, i.e. fix, air position, alter course if necessary, wind velocity, ground speed check, new E.T.A., should not be repeated oftener than once every 10 minutes nor less than once every 20 minutes.
(iii) Check every calculation at least once. If you are a slow worker, then to ensure you have sufficient time to check all your calculations, use a 15 or 20 minutes system.
(iv) When orbiting or dog legging, before setting course, keep the pilot informed of the number of minutes in hand, e.g. “5 minutes to go” – “3 minutes to go”, etc.
(v) Remember that an aircraft requires time to alter course. The heavier the load, the longer the time required. Make allowances for this, and so avoid overshooting any of the turning points, and subsequent displacement off track.
[Underlined] LOG AND CHART WORK [/underlined]
Four months ago we began a drive on more work on the chart and less in the log. The initial trials were a success, and the method was adopted throughout the Group. It was decided, however, not to force it on to the more experienced Navigators who had been used to keeping a very full log.
The reason for reducing the log work was to have more time available for the checking and re-checking of all calculations, and to enable Navigators to obtain that extra fix or ground speed check which is so often vital. A few Navigators can do all this and still keep a full log. If they wish to waste their time by recording unnecessary details, then providing their Navigation suffers in no way, there is no objection. It has been noted, however, that a few Navigators are keeping a detailed log at the expense of accurate Navigation, and constant checking. This must stop immediately. Station and Squadron Navigation Officers are to watch carefully for this, and must ensure that no Navigator is wasting valuable time writing a detailed log at the expense of accurate navigation.
[Underlined] A.P.I. ATTACHMENT FOR WINDFINDING [/underlined]
It was stated in last month’s News that 5 A. P. I. attachments were installed in aircraft in this Group and trials were to be carried out. The trials have now been completed, and the results achieved have come well up to expectations. More than 20 windfinding exercises were completed, and the winds found were compared with the Balloon Sonde Winds issued by the Met. Office. In every single instance the difference between the two sets of w/v’s was negligible. Practice bombing was completed after 10 of these exercises, and the average vector error obtained was 3 1/4 m.p.h.
The attachments have also been used on operations with equally good results. It is not possible to state the vector error obtained on these sorties, but the winds found by all A. P. I. attachment windfinders were very consistent.
One or two instances of completely “phoney” winds found by the attachments have occurred, however. Investigation has proved that in each case the error was attributable to incorrect tracking over the datum point on the second run up. A displacement of the datum point from the graticule of 500 yards, or a tracking error of 15 °, would give a wind error of 6 miles per hour. Errors of such proportions cannot obviously be tolerated, otherwise the attachment loses all its value.
It is obvious, therefore, that very great care is to be taken on the second run over the target to ensure that the aircraft approaches on the correct heading and the datum point is on the graticule. Such accuracy as is required can only be obtained by constant crew practice, and in view of the fact that these attachments will shortly be distributed to all Squadrons, crews are urged to practice constantly until they can achieve the required accuracy on each run up to the datum point. Windfinding is the responsibility of the Navigators, therefore, it is up to you Navigators to ensure that your pilot and Bomb Aimer practice constantly.
[Underlined] PRACTICE BOMBING WINDS [/underlined]
The average vector error obtained by all Squadrons and Conversion Units this month is as shown below:-
Average error of Squadrons – 6.5
Average error of Con. Units – 6.6
(Continues on page 10, col. 1)
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 9
[Page break]
NAVIGATION (CONTINUED)
These figures show an improvement for the Squadrons of 1 m.p.h. and for the Conversion Units of 1.4 m.p.h. This is very good. We must now endeavour to reach the ideal overall average of 5 m.p.h.
[Table of Average Vector Errors ranked by Squadron and Conversion Units]
It will be noted that 9 and 50 Squadrons are holding two of the first three places for the third month is succession. Also 207 Squadron have jumped from 16th place last month to first place this month. A very creditable performance on the part of these three Squadrons.
[Underlined] UNION NEWS [/underlined]
S/Ldr Creeth Base Nav. Officer, Swinderby to be Squadron Nav. Officer 83 Squadron.
F/Lt Patchett 49 Squadron Nav. Officer to be Base Navigation Officer, Swinderby.
F/Lt Catty, DFC. No. 54 Base to be Squadron Nav. Officer, No.49 Sqdn.
S/Ldr. Mason, DFC. Base Navigation Officer, Coningsby, to be Flight Commander, 97 Squadron.
F/Lt Warwick, DFC. Radar/Nav. Officer, No.1661 Conversion Unit, to be Base Navigation Officer, Coningsby.
F/O Bennet, DFM. No.617 Squadron, to be Sqdn. Navigation Officer.
RADAR/NAV
H2S Operators were presented with numerous opportunities of using H2S to full advantage this month in view of the long range targets that were attacked. It is gratifying to note that after the slackening off in the use of H2S which was noticed last month, operators have at last realised they were neglecting excellent opportunities for obtaining valuable experience of the set under operational conditions. That H2S has been used to advantage has been shown in the number and accuracy of winds received back from windfinding aircraft particularly on this Group’s attacks on Konigsberg. Opportunity was taken to examine some of the Navigators’ and Air Bombers’ charts on these attacks, and they indicated that excellent use had been made of H2S pinpoints en route, and in addition, track keeping, timing and concentration were extremely good. It is therefore up to Navigators, Air Bombers and H2S Instructors to see that this standard is maintained on all future operations.
With the winter months coming along, and the possible increase in the number of stand-downs due to bad weather, more and more time will be available for practice on the H2S synthetic trainers. It is realised that certain inaccuracies inherent in the trainer mechanism, make exact D.R. navigation difficult, but providing the potentiometers on the control panel are matched daily, and the trainer is run for 20 – 30 minutes before each exercise, wind vectors can be found to an accuracy of ± 10° and ± 8 m.p.h.
Standardised routes have been issued as navigational exercises for the Zuider Zee, Hamburg – Bremen and Frankfurt – Saarbrucken trainer maps, and Operators should endeavour to carry them out at frequent intervals, as if they were real flights. Fixes should be made as frequently as possible, and winds found every 15 – 20 minutes. H2S Instructors should check each exercise for accuracy of winds found, ground speed checks, adherence to planned track, E.T.A’s and reliability of fixes. Whilst it is appreciated that both the Navigators’ and set operators’ reactions to H2S may be entirely different in the air, these exercises may help to iron out a lot of difficulties, and assist in forming an accurate assessment of the capabilities of the navigational team.
A system of categorisation of H2S crews has been issued for Nos.83 and 97 Squadrons. This system depends on complete analysis of all operational and training flights, and is being done to ensure the best set operators are matched with the best equipment. It will also ensure that the best navigational teams are chosen as blind markers.
If this system is successful at 54 Base it may be possible to extend it to other H2S Squadrons and assist in ensuring that only the best crews are chosen for the two marker Squadrons.
This month we had the first opportunity of attacking a target entirely blind on H2S equipment. Unfortunately, due to numerous factors, the attack developed over a large area, but many lessons were learnt by this experience and should serve to make another such attack successful. Whilst it may not be possible to carry out this type of attack again, crews are reminded that they must take every opportunity to practice blind bombing, both on the trainer and in the air. Why not make it a habit to carry out at least one practice blind bombing run on H2S every N.F.T? Even if photographs cannot be taken you are at least developing the technique.
H2S mining has been carried out on numerous occasions during the month, and from P.P.I. photographs it is evident that the vegetables were laid in the correct gardens. A considerable collection of excellent photographs of different H2S Coastal landmarks has now been built up, and it has been suggested to Command that slides be issued of these landmarks for use at briefing. Incidentally if your garden is situated at a position which is covered by your H2S trainer maps, why not carry out your H2S briefing in the trainer room with an actual demonstration incorporating the method to be used? Crews will obtain ideal indications of the picture they can expect, and the difficulties they may experience. If you haven’t the map coverage try making your own training maps of the garden areas likely to be visited.
P.P.I. photography still continues to give a few headaches, both to Navigation and Photographic Sections. However, an improvement has been noted during the latter half of the month, and Squadrons are to be congratulated on the quality of the mining photographs taken. 97 Squadron obtained an excellent photograph of the French Coast near CAEN, the details of which have been confirmed by Command.
When using P.P.I. Cameras, a good photograph depends upon the complete absence of light except that from the cathode ray tube. Watch your cabin lights and the blackouts, and above all see that you give the correct exposure for the type of camera you are carrying.
PPI Photographic Interrogation Reports are being loosely filled in. If you want to be plotted in the position you actually were at the time the photograph was taken, please see you enter correct details on this form. You are probably saving yourself from an investigation at a later date.
By examination of P.P.I. photographs, several manipulation errors have come to light, particularly:
(i) Operators are still having too large a 10 mile zero in the centre of the P.P.I. on the 10/10 scan. By manipulation of the 10 mile zero control this hole should be more of the size of a sixpence, not a half crown.
(ii) Operators are not paying sufficient attention to the correct tuning of the set. They are content with the initial tuning, completely ignoring any retuning at half-hourly intervals, and before carrying out blind bombing runs.
(iii) Too much or too little gain is being employed, and consequently the responses are completely swamped by ground returns or the responses appear too faintly to be recognised or photographed.
(iv) The Contrast control is not being used to advantage. Whilst it is not the usual policy to allow untrained operators to use the contrast control, experienced operators may obtain considerable benefit by slight manipulation of the contract control, particularly when land/water definition is essential.
GEE
During the month, navigators have taken full advantage of the extended ranges now being experienced on Gee with a resultant improvement in navigation.
(Contd. At foot of Col.1)
(Contd. From Col.3)
Excellent use is being made of the frequencies on the RF27 Unit, and many operators report that fading signals are the only restrictions on range.
The new Channel Chain has come into operation this month, and so far the only indications of its range have been obtained on one operation when the average was 0530E at 4900N. No jamming was experienced.
Gee Operators are warned that the practice of calling charts be Series Numbers has been abolished. Sheets which have been re-printed are identified by the name of the chain only. A block has now been inserted to the right of the top margin for operators to insert the number of identification blinks for each chain.
A reshuffle of Gee frequencies is likely in the near future, and Gee operators should take every precaution of checking studs and frequencies before every flight in case sudden change has been made.
Once again it is necessary to warn Navigators that XF frequencies not allocated for their particular targets are not to be used by them. Fixes taken from such transmissions are likely to be in error up to 15 miles. Always ensure that when an XF transmission is given to you that it is for [underlined] your [/underlined] target.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 10
[Page break]
AIR BOMBING
[Underlined] SQUADRON BOMBING COMPETITION [/underlined]
In spite of very heavy operational commitments during August, twelve Squadrons qualified for the competition.
52 Base are to be congratulated on winning the competition for the fourth successive month (in June the Conversion Units were included and 619 Squadron were second to 1654 Conversion Unit).
49 Squadron have won the competition for the second successive month, and 44 and 619 Squadrons tie for second place. Next month all THREE Squadrons are fighting for 1st place. Any other opposition will be welcomed.
52 Base has also provided the three entries for the “Big Chief” Competition. Group Captain Weir improved his previous month’s result and won the competition.
Next month all crews must guard against larger errors, because we are now measuring all bombs from T.2. and [underlined] not [/underlined] from the C.M.P.I. If you are careless the errors will inevitably be larger. Air Bombers must take care to set on the bombsight the wind the Navigator gives him, and the Navigator must plot his A.P.I. wind correctly to avoid getting a reciprocal wind.
Are all Bombing Leaders aware that for competition purposes, only 5 bombs need be counted, but all 6 must be included in the weekly return?
[Underlined] SQUADRON BOMBING COMPETITION [/underlined]
1st – 49 Squadron – 71 yards
2nd – 619 Squadron – 78 yards
44 Squadron – 78 yards
4th – 9 Squadron - 84 yards
5th – 97 Squadron - 88 yards
6th – 83 Squadron – 90 yards
7th – 630 Squadron – 91 yards
8th – 106 Squadron – 104 yards
9th – 57 Squadron – 105 yards
10th – 207 Squadron – 106 yards
11th – 50 Squadron – 116 yards
12th – 61 Squadron – 117 yards
13th – 463 Squadron, completed only 5 exercises with 121 yards error
14th – 467 Squadron, completed only 2 exercises with 89 yards error
[Underlined] “BIG CHIEF” COMPETITION [/underlined]
1st G/Capt. Weir (Fiskerton) – 69 yards
2nd W/Cdr. Millward (619 Squadron) – 76 yards
3rd G/Capt. Jeudwine (Dunholme Lodge) – 125 yards
[Underlined] CONVERSION UNIT COMPETITION [/underlined]
1st – 1661 C.U. – 60 yards
2nd – 1654 C.U. – 66 yards
1660 C.U. – 66 yards
3rd – 5 L.F.S. – 92 yards
Congratulations to 1661 Conversion Unit on winning the competition for the second successive month.
[Underlined] HIGH LEVEL BOMBING PRACTICE [/underlined]
[Table of High Level Bombing Practice Results by Squadron and Conversion Unit]
AUGUST’S OUTSTANDING CREW ERRORS
Once again, owing to the number of crew errors below 100 yards, only those below 80 yards can be recorded.
Sqdn. or Con. Unit Pilot Air Bomber Navigator Error at 20,000 (in yards)
617 F/L Iveson Sgt Chance F/O Harrison 75 and 79
F/L Orum P/O Cole P/O Brand 79
S/L Cockshott P/O Booth F/S Gosling 80
F/O Joplin F/S Hebbard Sgt Fish 74 and 49
F/O Hamilton F/O Atkinson P/O Jackson 71
97 F/L Parker W/O Carvell F/S Fripp 46-48-54
61 F/O Gibberd P/O Roberts F/S Michael 70
1660 C.U. F/S Atkinson F/O Coyne Sgt Kingston 73
F/S Eakins Sgt Wente Sgt Moulds 80
F/S Croscombe Sgt Devine F/O Reeves 66
1661 C.U. F/S Barratt Sgt Berry Sgt Towle 35
F/O Dow F/O Muddle F/O Orrell 55
F/O Findlay Sgt Hemmingway F/S Larkin 76 and 67
F/O Symes Sgt Bayliss F/O Smith 70
W/O Harrison Sgt Barnett Sgt Smart 69
1654 C.U. W/O Ross Sgt Finch W/O Hayes 66 and 76
F/O Jory F/O Pooley Sgt Craig 61
5 L.F.S. P/O Arndell F/O Porter ? 60
F/S Wiley Sgt Evans Sgt Verry 72
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 11
[Page break]
AIR BOMBING (CONT.)
[Diagram] Fig. 1
[Diagram] Fig. 2
This article is addressed to ALL pilots, veterans and freshmen. At the top of this page will be found a plot of 15 bombs dropped by two pilots acting as Air Bombers. For reference purposes we will call the pilot who flew the aircraft for the first 9 bombs – No. 1 Pilot, and No. 2 Pilot flew the aircraft when 9 – 16 were dropped.
Now all fifteen bombs were dropped from the same aircraft, using the same bombsight, and wind velocity which was from 230°. The time taken to drop the bombs was seventy minutes. In other words, the aircraft did not land between the two exercises, not were any settings on the bombsight altered.
If we study the two groups of bombs for a few minutes, we see that there are two very definite groups. No. 1 Pilot (as Air Bomber) has obtained a much smaller group than has No.2 Pilot. [Underlined] WHY? [/underlined] – Can [underlined] YOU, [/underlined] as a pilot give an explanation? Don’t read any further for the moment; have another look at the plot (Fig.1). Now look at the bombs plotted on the same heading (Fig.2).
From these plots we see that there is a tendency for the Air Bomber to overshoot, but also present is a large pilot error. In short, the pilot who flew the aircraft for bombs 9 – 16 was steadier and flew more accurately, more relaxed if you prefer it. This was because No.2 pilot is an experienced Lancaster pilot, whereas No.1 Pilot has not yet mastered “The flying for bombing technique”.
Can [underlined] YOU [/underlined] as a pilot, see just how important you are in the bombing team? Grudgingly as Air Bombers, we have to admit that [underlined] you [/underlined] are definitely responsible for about 75% of the success of a successful exercise or operational sortie.
Remember that “flying for bombing” is an art, and only constant practice will ensure you becoming a good bombing pilot.
Remember, also that, as a pilot, flying for bombing with the Mark XIV, your worst crimes are flat turning, skidding, side-slipping and crabbing. The bombsight is fully stabilised. That means that if you bomb in a turn, you [underlined] must [/underlined] apply bank and rudder. In other words, do a PROPER TURN.
If you fly your aircraft in the correct manner on every run-up, you can be sure that [underlined] you, [/underlined] as the pilot, are contributing a great amount to cutting out errors in line.
In short, if you, as a pilot, fly your aircraft correctly, and your Air Bomber aims correctly, you automatically look after “line”. Your stick length looks after “range”.
There is another error present in [underlined] both [/underlined] exercises, and the main clue to finding it is in the above article. Bombing Leaders, Bombing Analysis Officers and Air Bombers – DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT ERROR IS??? The answer is in another column!!!
RESULTS OF COURSES
F/O Baker (207) was 10th on No.89 Course with “B” Category.
F/O Arkieson (630) was 6th on No. 89 Course with “B” Category.
F/O Wilkie (1661) was 6th on No. 90 Course with “B” Category.
F/O Thomas (617) was 7th on No.90 Course with “B” Category.
F/O Points (61) failed to qualify as a Bombing Leader, obtaining a “C” Category.
Congratulations to F/O Soaper (5 L.F.S.) and P/O Alley (1654 C.U.) on obtaining 1st and 2nd places respectively on No.37 A.B.I. Course.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 12
[Page break]
AIR BOMBING (CONT.)
[Underlined] CREW CATEGORISATION [/underlined]
[Table of Crew Categorisation by Base]
A+ = 85 yards or less. A = 140 yards or less
B = 210 yards or less. C = 280 yards or less
D = Over 280 yards.
Congratulations to 50 Squadron on obtaining the 2 A+ categories!
[Underlined] “GEN” FROM THE SQUADRONS [/underlined]
[Underlined] F/L Campbell, D.F.C. (9 Sqdn) [/underlined] reports that No. 9 Squadron is now fully equipped with Mk. XIVA bombsights, and intend to win the Competition in September. At present they are having “teething” troubles.
[Underlined] F/O Clegg (619 Sqdn) [/underlined] is commencing a photographic album, 18” x 18”, in which is to be inserted the best photograph on any operation obtained by any one crew. Alongside the photograph is written such “gen” as bearing and distance from A.P., bearing and distance of markers from A.P. and marking technique etc.
Apologies are due to A/Cdre Sharpe, 54 Base, who carried out a dive bombing exercise in a Lightning during last month, averaging 9 yards for 6 bombs. This information was inadvertently missed last month.
[Underlined] “GEN” FROM THE RANGES [/underlined]
[Underlined] Wainfleet [/underlined] plotted 4123 bombs dropped by 841 aircraft.
[Underlined] Epperstone [/underlined] plotted 1397 bombs dropped by 242 aircraft.
[Underlined] Owthorpe [/underlined] plotted 1901 bombs dropped by 317 aircraft.
BOMBING LEADERS’ CORNER
S/Ldr Brewer leaves 1660 C.U. to take up duties as Bombing Leader at 83 Squadron.
F/Lt McRobbie takes over 1660 Base Bombing Leader duties.
F/O Kennedy (ex 100 Group) has joined No.49 Squadron’s Bombing Section.
F/Lt McCarthy (467 Squadron) tour expired, has moved to 1654 C.U.
F/Lt Woods has succeeded F/Lt Astbury as Bombing Leader to No.617 Squadron.
[Underlined] BOMBING “LADDER” [/underlined]
617 and 627 Squadrons maintain a Bombing “Ladder”. Top positions this month are as follows:-
617 Squadron 627 Squadron
1st F/O JOPLIN & CREW F/LT BARTLEY & CREW
2nd F/LT ORAN & CREW F/O WHITEHEAD & CREW
3rd F/LT IVESON & CREW W/CDR CURRY & CREW
[Underlined] ?? BOMBING QUIZ ?? [/underlined]
1. Your Computor [sic] Box Compass over-reads by 30 ° on all headings. What type of error would result?
2. A certain type of P.F.F. technique uses sticks of flares. Is it Musical Paramatta, Paramatta, Newhaven or Wanganui?
3. If you land away with your bombs fused with ?? you must inform the Armament Officer immediately. What fuses would be used to necessitate this procedure?
4. Some Squadrons have panels modified so that they have a 32 way distributor and [underlined] two [/underlined] pre-selector boxes. Your first pre-selector box reads:-
[Underlined] PRESELECTOR [/underlined] 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12,13,14,15,16.
[Underlined] STATIONS [/underlined] 7,8,9,2,11,12.
You wish to drop 2 separate sticks of 3 flares; what selector switches would you use for each stick?
[Underlined] WARNING: [/underlined] This is not as easy as it first appears. It is vitally important that crews who have to carry out more than one bombing run, know the answer. SEE THAT YOU DO!!
[Underlined] WERE YOU RIGHT??? [/underlined]
The other error present in the two exercises plotted on the opposite page is a “Linear” error common to both exercises. This was caused by a sluggish D.R. compass.
LINK TRAINER
[Table of Link Trainer Exercises by Conversion Unit and Base/Squadron]
There was a slight increase in Pilot’s Link Times for the month but Flight Engineers dropped a little and the overall total was 20 hours less than July. Nos. 9 and 617 Squadrons were engaged on other special practices throughout the month and only Flight Engineers of 617 did any Link. It’s a point to note, however, that the Link flies well on a rainy day – there were several during August.
AIR SEA RESCUE
Two ditchings occurred in the Group during August. Both crews were saved. Neither ditching was “copy book”, nor were the drills up to the required standard, but in each instance, good use was made of the time available.
[Underlined] “G” of 1654 Conversion Unit. 14th August. [/underlined]
This aircraft was engaged on Air to Sea firing on the afternoon of the 14th, when the pilot found he was unable to maintain height at t low altitude because two engines gave trouble on account of fuel shortage.
There was no time to send out distress messages, but the pilot, seeing a trawler, ditched nearby. The ditching was very well carried out and no-one was hurt, though the Flight Engineer and the two Gunners had not reached their ditching stations and therefore were not braced for the impact.
No crew member inflated his Mae West before the impact and no emergency equipment was taken out of the aircraft. The crew was not aware of the existence of a locking pin in the Dinghy Manual Release and as a result of this and the failure of the immersion switch, the dinghy had to be forced out of its stowage.
The crew were picked up by the trawler within 20 minutes and after being transferred to an H.S.L. were taken to Grimsby.
[Underlined] “J” of 97 Squadron. 15th August. [/underlined]
This aircraft was returning from a daylight operation with the two port engines u/s due to enemy action. The Port inner engine failed to feather and its windmilling action together with other damage caused the aircraft to lose height until it ditched just off the Dutch coast.
W/T distress messages were sent out and the aircraft was in V.H.F. contact with the rest of the formation. It was also escorted by the Controller in a Mosquito.
The aircraft ditched successfully and no-one was hurt though the Wireless Operator stayed too long at his set and on impact was caught in the bulkhead doorway. Again in this ditching no crew member inflated his Mae West until after impact, and no emergency equipment was taken out of the aircraft.
Within two hours of ditching A.S.R. aircraft were on the scene and a Lindholme dinghy as well as an airborne lifeboat was dropped. The crew got the airborne lifeboat under way but because of the proximity of the coast, an H.S.L. was sent out an picked up the crew before they had gone very far.
[Underlined] POINTS TO WATCH [/underlined]
(i) Inflate your Mae Wests before impact.
(ii) Get to your ditching stations smartly on the Captain’s order.
(iii) Know where your emergency equipment is and take it with you.
[Underlined] NOTE: [/underlined] Due to the fact that no emergency equipment was got out of the aircraft and that the crews concerned did not inflate their Mae Wests until after impact (some members were stunned in each case) both these ditchings might have had sadder endings had not weather and light conditions been so favourable.
For the sake of your own lives don’t be half-hearted about your Safety Drills.
PRACTICE IN SAFETY DRILLS IS MORE EFFICIENT AND LESS EXPENSIVE THAN LIFE INSURANCE.
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 13
[Page break]
OPERATIONS
August started with three abortive attacks on Siracourt, La Beteque and Mont Candon. Unfortunately all three areas were cloud covered and aircraft brought their bombs home.
[Underlined] BOIS DE CASSAN – DAY, 2ND AUGUST. [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- S/L. Owen
PLAN 100 Lancasters were to attack this target visually using Oboe Markers as a guide on their bombing run. The majority of crews bombed visually and only a few reported seeing the Oboe markers.
RESULTS Partial P.R.U. cover obtained shows that the Northern half of the target was obliterated.
[Underlined] TROSSY ST. MAXIMIN – DAY, 2ND AUGUST. [/underlined]
Master Bomber :- W/C. Simpson
PLAN The target was marked by P.F.F. Oboe Mosquitoes. The 94 Lancasters and 2 Mosquitoes attacked in conditions of 3-7/10ths patchy cloud.
RESULTS P.R.U. and strike photographs reveal fresh damage in the target area, a large rectangular building partially wrecked, and a number of craters to the South and South East of the target area.
[Underlined] TROSSY ST. MAXIMIN – DAY, 3RD AUGUST. [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- W/C. Porter (Lanc.)
PLAN The aiming point was marked by Oboe Mosquitoes and crews were to bomb visually using these as a guide.
RESULTS 1 Group attacked this target 15 minutes before 5 Group, and consequently the aiming point was difficult to identify, owing to thick smoke in the target area. P.R.U. cover showed the area to have been well plastered, and certainly one and possibly three of the tunnel entrances were blocked.
[Underlined] ST. LEU – DAY, 5TH AUGUST. [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- W/C. Woodroffe
PLAN The aiming point was to be marked by both Oboe and 54 Base Mosquitoes and 189 Lancasters were detailed to bomb visually using the markers as a guide.
RESULTS 6/10th cloud at the target made bombing difficult. The majority of crews made runs from land marks in the target area, and consequently bombing was scattered. P.R.U. cover shows further subsidence round the Southern entrance to the caves, and road and rail communications leading to the entrance were blocked.
[Underlined] BOIS DE CASSAN – DAY, 6TH AUGUST [/underlined]
PLAN This Flying Bomb Storage target was to be marked by Oboe Mosquitoes and 101 aircraft were to attack the aiming point visually.
RESULTS This attack was unsuccessful due to the force running into heavy Cu.b. cloud on track about 20 miles from the target. The force became disorganised, and many aircraft returned to Base because they heard an order from the Master Bomber over R/T to do so. Considerable interference was present and the Master Bomber is missing so that it is impossible to check this order. 39 aircraft carried on and bombed the target which was clear. Fighter escort found their task extremely difficult with the result that more than 12 of our aircraft were attacked by enemy fighters in the target area. Two enemy aircraft were claimed destroyed and three damaged, while the fighter escort without loss, destroyed two and damaged two.
P.R.U. cover showed that what bombing took place was good and the storage units and buildings immediately South of the aiming point were hit.
[Underlined] SECQUEVILLE BATTLE AREA – 7/8TH AUGUST. [/underlined]
PLAN This target was planned to assist land forces. In all, five aiming points were marked by Oboe Mosquitoes. The first phase of the bombing went according to plan, but after five minutes the Master Bomber ordered crews back to Base as smoke was making bombing impossible.
RESULTS The attack, though generally concentrated around the aiming point spread to the North/North East for a distance of approximately 1500 yards.
[Underlined] CHATTELERAULT – 9/10TH AUGUST. [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- W/C. Woodroffe (W.A/P) W/C. Simpson (E.A/P)
PLAN On this attack two aiming points were allotted and a common marking point was selected. One force was to use an over-shoot and the second force a vector. Marking to be carried out by 54 Base.
RESULTS Marking was difficult and was delayed due to hazy conditions. The marking point however, was eventually marked with reasonable accuracy and both Master Bombers ordered their forces to attack as planned. After five minutes bombing the markers became obscured by smoke and further T.I’s were dropped; these undershot by some 20 yards, and fresh bombing instructions were given to each force, who completed their bombing.
P.R.U. cover shows storage areas around both aiming points to be heavily cratered. The effect of blast and fire is seen over a considerable area. This attack shows that although a minimum quantity of marking is necessary for a good concentration, initial marking should be adequate to ensure that it will stand the smoke caused by subsequent bombing.
[Underlined] BORDEAUX – 10/11TH AUGUST. [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- S/L. Owen
PLAN The aiming point was marked direct by Green T.I’s. Again there was some trouble from smoke and further backing up was ordered. Owing to crew manipulation error, incorrect switches were selected and the markers fell in a long stick, approximately 1,00 yards wither side of the aiming point. Bombing however, continued on the concentration of markers.
RESULTS P.R.U. photographs show the Eastern bank of the river to be heavily cratered and severe damage caused to an oil and petrol storage park and also to corn silos and warehouses. This is an occasion when bad drill on the part of a member of a crew can cause scatter to what might have been an extremely concentrated attack.
[Underlined] BORDEAUX – DAY, 11TH AUGUST [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- W/C. Woodroffe
PLAN The Master Bomber dropped yellow T.I. cascading on the aiming point. This was to serve as a guide for crews in the run-up. A visual vector point was selected and a vector wind broadcast by the Master Bomber.
RESULTS The attack went according to plan and a good concentration was reported, although P.R.U. cover showed little damage to the submarine pens.
[Underlined] GIVORS – 11/12TH AUGUST [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- (Northern Aiming Point) W/Cdr Simpson (Southern Aiming Point) S/Ldr Owen
PLAN Two aiming points were detailed for this target.
(i) Marshalling Yard to the South (Red Aiming Point).
(ii) Junction to the South (Green Aiming Point).
On the Northern aiming point vector bombing was employed and on the Southern direct bombing of the aiming point.
RESULTS On the Northern Aiming Point some uncertainty existed about the accuracy of marking. The force was instructed to stand off for five minutes and instructions were passed to backers up. Backing up was not accurate and a large concentration of markers resulted. Master Bombers ordered the crews to bomb the M.P.I. of the markers, which formed a triangle with sides about 500 yards, with zero wind. The correct wind vector, however, should have been 214/13 m.p.h. on the Southern Aiming Point, but bombing was completed before the Deputy Master Bomber realised his error. The direct marking went according to plan and accurate bombing followed. P.R.U. cover shows that the attack was fairly successful and that damage was inflicted around both aiming points.
[Underlined] BRUNSWICK – 12/13TH AUGUST. [/underlined]
PLAN This attack was of an experimental nature to determine the accuracy of blind bombing on H2S.
RESULTS P.R.U. cover shows some fresh incidents in the town but these are mostly scattered. There is one small concentration in the Northern part of the city.
[Underlined] RUSSELSHEIM – 12/13TH AUGUST [/underlined]
PLAN Approximately 200 aircraft of this and other Groups were to attack the Opel Works at Russelsheim. A Master Bomber was provided by P.F.F. and the aiming point marked by controlled Paramatta.
RESULTS The markers were rather scattered and although results were difficult to assess it would appear that bombing was not
5 GROUP NEWS. NO. 25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 14
[Page break]
OPERATIONS (CONTINUED)
particularly concentrated. P.R.U. cover shows that new damage was caused to the South West area of the target although fires spread to woods some three miles away and to residential property to the South East.
[Underlined] FALAISE – 12/13TH AUGUST [/underlined]
PLAN 25 aircraft from this Group were called for at short notice, together with 85 aircraft of other Groups to attack land positions in support of our land forces. Musical marking was carried out by P.F.F.
RESULTS P.R.U. shows very heavy cratering around the aiming point, with very few loose sticks.
[Underlined] BORDEAUX – 13TH AUGUST [/underlined]
PLAN 20 aircraft of 53 Base were detailed to attack oil storage. There was no marking and all crews identified the aiming point and bombed visually.
RESULTS Although several sticks were reported to have straddled the aiming point and strike photographs show bomb bursts in close proximity, P.R.U. cover showed only minor damage to the aiming point.
[Underlined] QUESNEY – 14TH AUGUST [/underlined]
PLAN This was a large scale attack in which Bomber Command gave support to our land forces. Aiming points were marked by Oboe Mosquitoes and as our troops were only approximately 2000 tards from the aiming point, accurate bombing was essential.
RESULTS Crews bombed either markers or the upwind edge of the area of smoke. Apart from one stick which appeared to fall about 600 yards North of the markers, bombing was concentrated. P.R.U. photographs taken show that the area was saturated and severe destruction inflicted.
[Underlined] BREST – EVENING, 14TH AUGUST [/underlined]
Shipping in Brest Harbour was the target for 130 aircraft of this Group. Targets were assigned as follows:-
No.52 Base – a hulk
No.53 Base - a tanker
Nos. 54 and 55 Bases – a cruiser
PLAN All crews were to bomb visually, no markers being dropped. The Master Bomber was to precede the force to the target and broadcast the direction and lie of the ships.
RESULTS Weather at the target was clear and all Bases claimed a proportion of hits on their aiming points. P.R.U. photographs taken on the 15th August at almost half tide showed that:-
(i) The hulk was still afloat.
(ii) The tanker was awash.
(iii) The cruiser had disappeared.
Photographs taken the following day show an object in the former position of the cruiser, which may be its wreck.
GILZE RIJEN AND DEELEN AIRFIELDS – 15TH AUGUST
These airfields were allotted to this Group with approximately 100 aircraft on each.
PLAN 54 Base Mosquitoes were to drop cascading yellow T.I’s on each aiming point and these were to be used as a guide to visual bombing. The aircraft were to fly in company, led by 54 Base.
RESULTS All crews were able to identify and bomb the target visually and heavy damage was inflicted on both targets.
[Underlined] STETTIN – 16/17TH AUGUST. [/underlined]
PLAN Approximately 450 Bomber Command aircraft were to attack Stettin with full P.F.F. Marking. The marking in the early stages was reported as accurate but as the attack progressed, the marking became more scattered. The Master Bomber controlled the operation as the situation demanded although bombing spread back on track and to some woods to the North West of the target.
RESULTS From P.R.U. photographs taken, devastation could be seen through a gap in the cloud, but the extent of this has not as yet been ascertained.
[Underlined] BORDEAUX – 18TH AUGUST [/underlined]
PLAN 25 Lancasters were to attack oil storage – all bombing to be carried out visually.
RESULTS The weather was clear but hazy. The attack was scattered due to accurate heavy flak, making a steady bombing run almost impossible.
[Underlined] L’ISLE D’ADAM – 18TH AUGUST. [/underlined]
PLAN 160 aircraft were despatched to attack a supply depot in the forest of the L’Isle D’Adam. Oboe Mosquitoes were to mark a point three miles from the target to assist crews on their run-up. Two aiming points were allotted which were marked by 54 Base Mosquitos dropping smoke bombs.
RESULTS All crews were able to bomb visually and P. R. U. photographs show the target area to be heavily cratered.
[Underlined] LA PALLICE – 19TH AUGUST [/underlined]
PLAN 51 aircraft of 53 Base were to attack oil storage installations. All bombing to be carried out visually.
RESULTS Cloud made target observation difficult and the attack was somewhat scattered, although some bursts were observed near the oil storage depot.
[Underlined] DARMSTADT – 24/25TH AUGUST [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- S/L. Owen
PLAN This town was to be attacked by the Group in strength. A point in the centre of the town was to be marked and each Base to use a separate false vector so that bombing would be well distributed over the town centre, around the aiming point.
RESULTS Weather conditions were perfect, and flares, although doubtful at the time, were proved by photographs to have been dropped accurately. Difficulty was experienced by the visual markers in identifying the aiming point. This was eventually recognised but before the Mosquitos could manoeuvre into position and carry out marking, the last of the flares had died out. The Master Bomber had to return early due to failure of VHF and Deputy 1 and Deputy 2 were shot down before reaching the target area. The main force therefore arrived at the target without a Master Bomber. In the absence of any marking and control, W/T Link 3 took charge and ordered the force to bomb on instruments.
P.R.U. photographs show some incidents scattered throughout the built up area. Although there was no control at the target, and the main reason for failure of the attack was due to no marking being down; the weather was favourable and the flares were accurate, and this case proves that it is impossible to spend too much time on careful study of target photographs. The visual marker, has only at the best a fleeting glance of the aiming point and he must arrive at the target with a complete and real picture in his mind of the aiming point and land marks in relation thereto.
[Underlined] KONIGSBERG – 26/27TH AUGUST [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- W/C. Woodroofe
Konigsberg was singled out for attention by 5 Group, 174 aircraft from all Bases being detailed. Weather at the target was clear, visibility good.
PLAN The normal 5 Group technique of illumination was employed, the aiming point to be marked visually and backed up if accurate. Crews were to bomb T.I’s direct.
RESULTS Illumination was punctual, three markers identifying the target simultaneously, and dropping their markers together. The first was 350 yards North West of the aiming Point, the second 1200 yards to the North East. The Master Bomber dropped his own markers about 500 yards East of the aiming
[Underlined] O.R.S. ANALYSIS OF RAIDS [/underlined]
(a) Percentage of loose bombs.
(b) Radius of 50% circle (i.e. half the bombs dropped fell more than this distance from the centre of concentration).
(c) Distance of M. P. I. from Aiming Point.
[Table of Analysis of Raids]
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 15
[Page break]
OPERATIONS (CONTINUED)
point and midway between the two previous markers. He then ordered the backers up to back these up, but the first backer up disobeyed these instructions and backed up those which had fallen 1,200 yards to the North East, which he believed to be accurate. The Master Bomber was not aware of this misplacement of the concentration and once the bombing started he found assessment difficult due to glare. As a result the concentration of bombing fell to the North East of the aiming point. This failure proves two points, firstly that the technique of one aircraft marking and this marking being assessed is the only way to achieve success. The fact that three markers dropped their load together was the primary cause for the great spread in bombing. Secondly, had the backer up obeyed the Master Bomber’s instructions implicitly, then the attack would have been misplaced by some 500 yards instead of 1500yards. There must be one Controller only at the target, and his orders must be obeyed rigidly.
[Underlined] KONIGSBERG – 29/30TH AUGUST [/underlined]
Master Bomber:- W/C Woodroffe.
Another heavy attack was despatched against this target the following night, and it was hoped on this raid to make up for the failure of the previous raid. 8-10/10ths strato cu, base 11,000 feet was encountered at the target.
PLAN The marking force was allowed 12 minutes to illuminate and mark the target. On this attack a marking point was chosen, and was to be marked visually with Red and Green T.I’s. Each Base was allotted a separate heading of attack and release of bombs was delayed for varying time intervals, in order to get a good distribution of bombs around the aiming point.
RESULTS The attack went according to plan and P.R.U. photographs show that almost the entire built up area of the city has been devastated, except for two small areas. This area of devastation, almost entirely by fire, stretches nearly 3,000 yards from East to West, and 2,000 yards from North to South. This area is confined to the main built up area of the city and does not extend West of the railway bridge across the river.
[Underlined] ROLLENCOURT, AUCHY LES HESDINS, BERGENEUSE – 31ST AUGUST [/underlined]
Three forces of aircraft were despatched from the Group to attack the above three flying bomb targets.
PLAN In each case 54 Base Mosquitos were to drop smoke markers as a guide for visual bombing. Weather was uncertain and aircraft were instructed to orbit if the targets were temporarily obscured by cloud.
RESULTS Some orbiting was necessary, but all three attacks were carried out according to plan. Bombing on each target was fairly concentrated and P.R.U. cover gives evidence of very extensive damage.
The most successful attack of these three was on Rollencourt.
SPECIAL OPERATIONS
[Underlined] ETAPLES – 4TH AND 5TH AUGUST [/underlined]
617 and 9 Squadrons attacked the railway bridge at Etaples in daylight on August 4th. The weather over the target was clear although some patches of cloud were encountered on the run-up.
RESULTS Photographic cover shows that four direct hits were scored on the double track bridge, whilst the single track bridge also sustained damage.
This bridge was attacked by 9 Squadron on the following day, but although conditions were good the attack was generally disappointing. Due to a miscalculation on the part of the formation leader the actual bombing heading carried out was almost parallel to the bridge itself, and consequently 75% of the sticks burst to the West of the bridge. Although there are two possible fresh hits on the Southern end of the target, the attack must be considered a failure due to the wrong heading of approach.
[Underlined] BREST – 5TH AUGUST [/underlined]
On the 5th August 617 Squadron attacked the submarine pens at Brest with 12,000 lb. bombs. Aiming was visual and weather at the target was good.
RESULTS P.R.U. cover confirms at least five direct hits on the pens, of which three were definite penetrations.
[Underlined] LORIENT – 6TH AND 7TH AUGUST [/underlined]
On this attack 617 Squadron were supported by No. 106 Squadron and had submarine pens for their target in daylight. The 617 Squadron leader was to drop two red T.I’s as areas markers to assist visual bombing.
RESULTS It is believed that at least two direct hits were scored on the submarine pens with a number of near misses. P.R.U. photographs show four hits on the wet pens and further damage caused by 12,000 pounders between the wet and the dry pens.
617 and 9 Squadrons were detailed to attack this target the following day, but weather prevented visual bombing and bombs were brought back to base.
[Underlined] LA PALLICE – 9TH AUGUST [/underlined]
In this attack 617 Squadron were allotted the submarine pens whilst 9 Squadron were given adjacent oil installations. A 9 Squadron aircraft was to precede the main force by 20 minutes to find a bombing wind by means of the API attachment. All bombing was to be carried out visually.
RESULTS [Underlined] 617 Squadron. [/underlined] 12 x 12,000 lb. bombs were dropped and P.R.U. cover confirms that a direct hit or hits on the S.E. corner of the pens caused a collapse of the roof over an area of 240 feet x 120 feet. There were also three further direct hits with possible penetration.
[Underlined] 9 Squadron [/underlined] reported the attack to have been fairly successful although many under-shoots and over-shoots were reported. The storage tanks are not therefore thought to have received the full weight of the attack.
[Underlined] LA PALLICE – 11TH AUGUST [/underlined]
The submarine pens were again the target for 617 Squadron who were carrying 2,000 lb. A.P. bombs. Bombing was to be carried out visually from beneath 16 and 18,000 feet.
RESULTS The bombing was accurate although smoke tended to become troublesome towards the end of the attack. P.R.U. cover shows at least four hits although none of these appear to have penetrated the roofs of the pens.
[Underlined] BREST – 12TH, 13TH AND 14TH AUGUST [/underlined]
Continuing the attacks against submarine pens, 617 Squadron visited Brest in a daylight attack in which 8 x 12,000 lb bombs were to be aimed visually at the aiming point.
RESULTS Weather at the target was clear and only one bomb reported to be wide of the target. P.R.U. cover shows that two bombs penetrated the roof, one in the centre making an opening of almost 50 feet across, whilst a third has taken off part of a corner of the roof at the Western side. There are two other possible hits which have not penetrated the roof.
[Underlined] 13TH AUGUST [/underlined]
On the following day 9 Squadron supported 617 Squadron in a second attack on the pens and shipping in the harbour. 5 x 12,000 lb. bombs were carried, the remaining loads being made up of 1,000 lb. A.P. bombs.
RESULTS P.R.U. cover reveals one direct hit which may have penetrated the pens, with two other very near misses close to the Northern wall.
9 Squadron were allotted a tanker in the harbour whilst aircraft of 617 Squadron were to attack the cruiser. P.R.U. cover showed that the cruiser was still intact, but that the tanker was awash at the stern and was resting on the bottom.
[Underlined] 14TH AUGUST [/underlined]
The cruiser was the target for 617 Squadron whilst 14 Lancaster of 9 Squadron were to attack a hulk which had been towed into the harbour. Weather was clear at the target. Bombing was not as good as had been experienced in previous attacks and P.R.U. cover showed that both vessels were still intact and undamaged after the attack.
[Underlined] LA PALLICE, 16TH AND 18TH AUGUST [/underlined]
617 and 9 Squadrons were detailed to attack the submarine pens but 9/10ths cloud was encountered at the target and the attack was abortive. On the 18th August, however, the Squadrons paid a second visit in good weather conditions. 6 x 12,000 lb. bombs were carried, the remaining aircraft carrying 2,000 lb. and 1,000 lb. A.P. bombs.
RESULTS P.R.U. cover shows at least one hit and possibly two on the roof of the pens by the 12,000 lb. bombs, but no bombs
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 16.
[Page break]
OPERATIONS (CONTINUED)
appear to have penetrated.
[Underlined] IJMUIDEN – 24 TH AUGUST [/underlined]
Enemy E and R Boat pens were the target for 617 and 9 Squadrons in a daylight attack when 12,000 lb. bombs and 1,000 lb. bombs were carried. The attack was carried out in clear weather.
RESULTS All crews were able to identify the aiming point and bombing appeared concentrated. P.R.U. cover shows one hit in the Western half of the pen which has penetrated into the pen and blown out a large portion of the rear.
[Underlined] BREST – 27TH AUGUST [/underlined]
A hulk and Sperrbrecher were detailed for 617 and 9 Squadrons respectively for a daylight attack. Weather at the target was clear with slight haze. All crews to bomb visually.
RESULTS Hits were claimed by both squadrons on their aiming points, and these are confirmed by P.R.U. cover, which was taken on the same day. This revealed that the hulk has disappeared and that there are signs of mud displacement around the position of this vessel. The Sperrbrecher is still afloat with much debris on the decks.
Wishful Thinking
I saw a Service switchboard,
A most amazing sight,
It filled me with deep wonderment,
And thrilled me with delight.
For dainty creatures fingered
Their cords with grace and charm,
And [underlined] rarely [/underlined] gave wrong numbers,
And [underlined] never [/underlined] lost their calm.
They all had silvery voices,
Melodious and untarnished,
And each had lovely finger-nails,
Not one of which was varnished.
Their speed was quite phenomenal,
Their tact a perfect joy;
Their supervisor sat at ease,
With nothing to annoy.
They never cut subscribers off,
They always saw calls through,
And never, never argued
With their clients as others do.
Their calm serene detachment,
No traffic could abate.
They scarcely ever faltered
Or were known to hesitate.
A vision so astounding
Pure phantasy did seem.
The shock it gave awoke me
And dispersed my precious dream.
Anon. (Circa 1944)
HONOURS & AWARDS (CONTINUED)
NON IMMEDIATE AWARDS (Continued)
[Underlined] 97 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/Lt E.F. CAWDERRY, D.F.C. Bar to D.F.C.
P/O J.K. BELL D.F.C.
F/O W.H. BENTON D.F.C.
P/O J.P. DOWN, D.F.M. D.F.C.
F/O R.M. NELSON, D.F.C. Bar to D.F.C.
F/Lt C.B. OWEN D.F.C.
F/O W.G. WISHART, D.F.C. Bar to D.F.C.
F/Sgt SMITH D.F.C.
A/F/O B.J. LINDSAY D.F.C.
F/O P.J. CRANE D.F.C.
[Underlined] 106 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O A. ROMANO D.F.C.
F/O J.R. GLAZEBROOK D.F.C.
F/O W.G. SEYMOUR D.F.C.
F/Sgt J.V. BEVAN D.F.M.
F/Sgt A.M. McKIE D.F.M.
F/Sgt G. HOYLAND D.F.M.
F/Sgt R.A. SNOWDEN D.F.M.
Sgt J.S. WILLIAMS D.F.M.
[Underlined] 207 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O G.G. FURNISS D.F.C.
F/O G.R. ANDREWS D.F.C.
P/O F. COLLIS D.F.C.
P/O F.J.A. REDMAN D.F.C.
P/O V.J. GLANN D.F.C.
P/O A.G.R. UDSON D.F.C.
F/Sgt E.J. DAWISON D.F.M.
F/Sgt C. ALLSOP D.F.M.
F/Sgt R. EDWARDS D.F.M.
F/Sgt R.S.J. CAPON D.F.M.
F/Sgt G.J. SCUFFINS D.F.M.
F/Sgt F.W. LOGAN D.F.M.
Sgt C. GIDMAN D.F.M.
Sgt A.H. ALLISON D.F.M.
Sgt W.H.A. YOUNGS D.F.M.
Sgt H.G. HALL D.F.M.
[Underlined] 463 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/Sgt D.A. BROOM D.F.M.
P/O A.R.S. BOWMAN D.F.C.
F/Sgt M.C.J. BARBER D.F.M.
F/O F.L. MERRILL D.F.C.
P/O J.F. FREEMAN D.F.C.
W/O K.F. FLUTE D.F.C.
Sgt E.F. MARTIN D.F.M.
[Underlined] 467 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O H.W. COULSON D.F.C.
P/O W. MACKAY D.F.C.
P/O W.L. GIBBS D.F.C.
P/O G.B. QUARTERMAINE D.F.C.
P/O J.W. McMANUS D.F.C.
[Underlined] 619 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O P. BUTLAN D.F.C.
P/O L.J. WARNER D.F.C.
P/O J.C. DOUGHTERY D.F.C.
F/O F.C. SECKER D.F.C.
P/O F.L. CHIPPERFIELD D.F.C.
P/O R.W. OLSON D.F.C.
[Underlined] 627 SQUADRON [/underlined]
F/O J.A. SAINT-SMITH, D.F.M. D.F.C.
F/O G.B. HEATH, D.F.M. D.F.C.
[Underlined] 630 SQUADRON [/underlined]
P/O N.W. HILL D.F.C.
P/O H.C. RODGERS D.F.C.
F/O F.D. SPENCER D.F.C.
F/Sgt A.W. JEFFREY D.F.M.
F/Sgt G.A. DAVIES D.F.M.
FLYING CONTROL
Successful trials at Dunholme Lodge of an addition to the present landing scheme have resulted in its introduction throughout the Group. The addition has been effected by bringing back the call-up point to the funnel and renaming the existing call-up point “CHECK” where the pilot does actually check his Stud ‘B’. This has entailed an amendment to the Plus 1/2 and Plus 1 position which are now defined as QDM of runway plus 90 degrees. The additional position gained by moving the call-up point has minimised stacking and given the pilots further time in which to adjust their positions. The major gain made by the move is, however, that at all airfields the call-up point is very definitely marked by the first lead-in light.
Experiments are being conducted at Waddington with “American High Lights”, located in the centre of the airfield to define the various positions on the circuit. These lights give a beam of 15°and are of the type now being installed at Winthorpe for runway lighting in conditions of poor visibility.
Following the success of Spilsby’s experiment of utilising the second Duty F.C.O. to “shepherd” the aircraft on the circuit, the practice is to be made general throughout Group. “Shepherding” has resulted in regular spacing with consequent greater safety margin and improved landing times. In effect, the F.C.O. “talks down” the aircraft. For weather protection, Spilsby have given the F.C.O. a m/u turret on the roof. Their lay-out and the method of control used are worth seeing and will well repay a visit.
Landing times can still be much improved. Aircraft are still arriving at irregular intervals. S.F.C.O’s must continue to impress on crews at briefing the essential point of a regular flow of aircraft on return. Spasmodic “bunching” and unnecessary delay break down the whole principle upon which the landing scheme is based. Crew drill can give the same regular flow to one squadron airfields as to two squadron airfields, and crew drill is solely dependent on discipline of the highest order.
One final point about overshoots. The airfield controller has a large responsibility in that final instructions to overshoot if necessary will emanate from him. Although the airfield controller will always err on the safe side, there are still far too many instances of aircraft being instructed to overshoot, when in actual fact they could land with safety. This is proved time again by the fact that the overshooting aircraft rarely overhauls the aircraft on the runway until is clearing the runway.
It is also realised that the airfield controller finds difficult to access the range of approaching aircraft solely by means of
(Contd. In Col.1)
(Contd. From Col.3)
navigation lights. To assist them therefore simple range finders will be provided.
S.F.C.O’s should point out to airfield controllers that an overshoot is not without a certain amount of risk, and that whenever possible aircraft should be allowed to land, and not just be given instructions to overshoot in order to be on the safe side.
[Underlined] AUGUST LANDING TIMES [/underlined]
[Table of Landing Times by Station]
5 GROUP NEWS. NO.25. AUGUST, 1944. PAGE 17
Dublin Core
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Title
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V Group News, August 1944
5 Group News, August 1944
Description
An account of the resource
Five Group Newsletter, number 25, August 1944. Includes a foreword by the Air Officer Commanding, and features about sports, engineering , war effort, gunnery, training, equipment, photography, gardening, war savings, second thoughts for pilots, honours and awards, signals, armament, navigation, radar navigation, air bombing, air sea rescue, link trainer, operations, special operations, flying control, wishful thinking, tactics, accidents, and the Stirling.
In accordance with the conditions stipulated by the donor, this item is available only at the University of Lincoln.
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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1944-08
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Anne-Marie Watson
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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.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
18 printed 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
MStephensonS1833673-160205-29
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.
France
Germany
Great Britain
Netherlands
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
England--Lincolnshire
France--Brest
France--Creil
France--Etaples
France--Falaise
France--Hesdin
France--La Pallice
France--L'Isle-Adam
France--Lorient
France--Pas-de-Calais
France--Siracourt
Germany--Braunschweig
Germany--Darmstadt
Germany--Königsberg in Bayern
Germany--Rüsselsheim
Netherlands--Arnhem
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Netherlands--Tilburg
Poland--Szczecin
France--Bordeaux (Nouvelle-Aquitaine)
Poland
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-08
1944-08-03
1944-08-07
1944-08-08
1944-08-14
1944-08-15
5 Group
air gunner
air sea rescue
aircrew
bomb aimer
bombing
bombing of Luftwaffe night-fighter airfields (15 August 1944)
Bombing of Trossy St Maximin (3 August 1944)
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
Distinguished Service Order
ditching
flight engineer
Gee
H2S
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
mine laying
navigator
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Oboe
pilot
radar
rivalry
sport
Stirling
tactical support for Normandy troops
training
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/357/5770/LGrimesS1271597v1.1.pdf
f78de867933d06f442ab2845bafcbb34
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
Grimes, Syd
Syd Grimes
S V Grimes
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. An oral history interview with Pilot Officer Sydney Grimes (173865, 1271597 Royal Air Force) a photograph, and his logbook. After training as a wireless operator/ air gunner he completed a tour on 106 Squadron at RAF Syerston. After a period as an instructor he joined 617 Squadron for his second tour where he took part in the attacks on the Tirpitz.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Syd Grimes and catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
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
2015-11-21
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Grimes, SV
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
Sydney Grimes' observer's and air gunner's flying log book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LGrimesS1271597v1
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
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Description
An account of the resource
Royal Air Force observer's and air gunner's flying log book for Sydney Grimes, wireless operator, covering the period from 2 July 1942 to 22 August 1945. Detailing training, operations flown, instructional duties and post war flying. He was stationed at RAF Evanton, RAF Madley, RAF Cottesmore, RAF Wigsley, RAF Syerston, RAF Balderton, RAF Scampton, RAF Winthorpe, RAF Woodhall Spa, RAF Bardney and RAF Sturgate. Aircraft flown in were Dominie, Proctor, Botha, Wellington, Anson, Manchester, Halifax and Lancaster. He flew a total of 41 operations, 24 night operations with 106 squadron and 15 daylight and 2 night operations with 617 squadron. Targets were, Kiel, Frankfurt, Spezia, Pilsen, Stettin, Duisburg, Dortmund, Dusseldorf, Essen, Wuppertal, Bochum, Gelsenkirchen, Cologne, Turin, Hamburg, Berlin, Tromso, Urft Dam, Ijmuiden, Politz, Rotterdam, Oslo Fjord, Emden, Koln, Poortershaven, Viesleble [Bielefeld] viaduct and Ladbergen. His pilots on operations were Flight Lieutenant Stephens and Flight Lieutenant Gumbley.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Mike Connock
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
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.
Czech Republic
France
Germany
Great Britain
Italy
Netherlands
Norway
Poland
Scotland
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Czech Republic--Plzeň
England--Herefordshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Rutland
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Bielefeld
Germany--Bochum
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Emden (Lower Saxony)
Germany--Essen
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Ladbergen
Germany--Wuppertal
Italy--La Spezia
Italy--Turin
Netherlands--Ijmuiden
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Norway--Tromsø
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Germany--Düsseldorf
Poland--Szczecin
Germany--Urft Dam
Atlantic Ocean--Oslofjorden
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
1944
1945
1943-04-04
1943-04-05
1943-04-10
1943-04-11
1943-04-13
1943-04-14
1943-04-16
1943-04-17
1943-04-18
1943-04-19
1943-04-20
1943-04-21
1943-05-12
1943-05-13
1943-05-14
1943-05-23
1943-05-24
1943-05-25
1943-05-26
1943-05-27
1943-05-28
1943-05-29
1943-05-30
1943-06-11
1943-06-12
1943-06-13
1943-06-24
1943-06-25
1943-06-26
1943-06-28
1943-06-29
1943-07-03
1943-07-04
1943-07-08
1943-07-09
1943-07-12
1943-07-13
1943-07-24
1943-07-25
1943-07-26
1943-07-27
1943-07-28
1943-07-29
1943-07-30
1943-08-23
1943-08-24
1944-10-29
1944-11-12
1944-12-08
1944-12-11
1944-12-15
1944-12-21
1944-12-22
1944-12-29
1944-12-30
1944-12-31
1945-01-01
1945-02-03
1945-02-06
1945-02-08
1945-02-14
1945-02-22
1945-02-24
1945-03-13
1945-03-14
1945-05-12
1945-06-25
1945-07-09
1945-08-07
1945-08-11
1945-08-20
1945-08-22
106 Squadron
14 OTU
1654 HCU
1661 HCU
1668 HCU
50 Squadron
617 Squadron
9 Squadron
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
bombing of Hamburg (24-31 July 1943)
Botha
Cook’s tour
Dominie
Halifax
Halifax Mk 2
Halifax Mk 5
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lancaster Mk 1
Lancaster Mk 3
Manchester
Operation Catechism (12 November 1944)
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operational Training Unit
Proctor
RAF Balderton
RAF Bardney
RAF Cottesmore
RAF Evanton
RAF Madley
RAF Scampton
RAF Sturgate
RAF Syerston
RAF Wigsley
RAF Winthorpe
RAF Woodhall Spa
Tallboy
Tirpitz
training
Wellington
wireless operator
-
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/.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Netherlands--Ijmuiden
Title
A name given to the resource
Ijmuiden [place]
IJmond; Ymuiden
Description
An account of the resource
This page is an entry point for a place. Please use the links below to see all relevant documents available in the Archive.
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/165/2233/PWrightJ1531.2.jpg
714d1245919fa50314c3816bae0a96e3
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
Wright, Jim
J R Wright
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
2015-05-21
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Wright, J
Description
An account of the resource
93 items. The collection contains two oral history interviews with Jim Wright, letters, cuttings and photographs. It concerns James Roy Wright’s research into his father, Sergeant Arthur Charles Wright (1911 - 1943, 1149750 Royal Air Force) and an operation to Turin 12/13 July 1943 which caused 100 aircraft to violate Swiss airspace. Two aircraft were shot down or crashed in Switzerland. There are many photographs and details of the activities that night including reports by the Swiss authorities. The crews are identified with photographs and there are several photographs of the funerals at Vevey. Additional material includes aerial photograph of bomb damage in Germany and the logbook and airman's pay book of W G Anderson. <br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Jim Wright and catalogued by Nigel Huckins, with descriptions of official Swiss documents provided Gilvray Williams. <br /><br />Additional information on Arthur Charles Wright is available via the <a href="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/126015/">IBCC Losses Database</a>. This collection also contains items concerning Hugh Burke Bolger and his crew. Additional information on Hugh Burke Bolger is available via the <a href="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/102186/">IBCC Losses Database</a>.
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
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
IJmuiden
Description
An account of the resource
Vertical aerial photograph of a bombed harbour area near the the Visserhaven. The majority is damaged buildings.
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
PWrightJ1531
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
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
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Netherlands
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Geolocated
aerial photograph
bombing
reconnaissance photograph
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/147/1572/LColeC1605385v1.2.pdf
146cc1c3261e10e2ec1fd6bc26ecd692
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
Cole, Colin
C Cole
Colin Cole
Description
An account of the resource
31 items. The collection relates to Warrant Officer Colin Cole (1924 – 2015 RAF Volunteer Reserve 1605385) who served with 617 Squadron. The collection contains two oral history interviews his, logbook, service documents, medals, memorabilia from the Tirpitz and six photographs.
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. Six items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties or to comply with intellectual property regulations. 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
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-01-27
2015-07-27
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Cole, C
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
Colin Cole's navigator's, air bomber's, air gunner's and flight engineer's flying log book
Description
An account of the resource
Navigator’s, air bomber’s, air gunner’s and flight engineer’s flying log book for Warrant Officer Colin Cole from 5 August 1943 to 23 September 1946. Detailing training schedule and operations flown. Served at RAF Yatesbury, RAF Mona, RAF Barrow in Furness, RAF Market Harborough, RAF Winthorpe, RAF Syerston, RAF Woodhall Spa, RAF Digri (Bengal) and RAF Scampton. Aircraft flown were Anson, Proctor, Dominie, Wellington, Stirling, Lancaster and Lincoln. He carried out a total of ten daylight and one night-time operations with 617 Squadron at RAF Woodhall Spa as a wireless operator on the following targets in Germany, Netherlands, Norway and Poland: Bergen, Dortmund-Ems Canal, Hamburg, Ijmuiden, Lützow, Oslo Fjord, Rotterdam, Tirpitz Tromsø, Urft Dam and Viesleble [sic] (actually Bielefeld) viaduct. <span>His pilots on operations were </span><span data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":200,"335559740":276}">Flight Lieutenant Leavitt and Flight Lieutenant Price. </span>Annotations include bombing the Tirpitz and an attack by an enemy jet aircraft. Operation Exodus and Cook’s tour flights are included, as is a tour of India in 1946.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LColeC1605385v1
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.
Germany
Great Britain
Pakistan
Norway
Pakistan
Poland
Wales
England--Cumbria
England--Leicestershire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Wiltshire
Wales--Anglesey
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Atlantic Ocean--Oslofjorden
Germany--Bielefeld
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Schleiden (Kreis)
Pakistan--Digri
Netherlands--Ijmuiden
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Norway--Bergen
Norway--Oslo
Norway--Tromsø
Pakistan--Digri
Poland--Świnoujście
Germany--Urft Dam
Netherlands
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.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
1944
1945
1946
1944-11-12
1944-11-13
1944-12-08
1944-12-11
1944-12-29
1944-12-30
1945-01-12
1945-02-14
1945-02-22
1945-02-24
1945-04-09
1945-04-13
1945-05-08
1945-05-10
1945-05-15
1945-09-27
1945-09-29
14 OTU
1661 HCU
617 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
air gunner
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
Anson
bombing
Cook’s tour
Dominie
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lincoln
Me 262
Operation Catechism (12 November 1944)
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operation Guzzle
Operational Training Unit
Proctor
RAF Barrow in Furness
RAF Market Harborough
RAF Mona
RAF Scampton
RAF Syerston
RAF Waddington
RAF Winthorpe
RAF Woodhall Spa
RAF Yatesbury
Stirling
submarine
Tiger force
Tirpitz
training
Wellington
wireless operator