1
25
10
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1213/15128/MDonaldsonDW70185-150610-070001.1.jpg
20455e30e3112bfc1d095e05dc073cc9
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1213/15128/MDonaldsonDW70185-150610-070002.1.jpg
16db9d35f04b4c5968c25fb3fe51adc9
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1213/15128/MDonaldsonDW70185-150610-070003.1.jpg
0fd91d648b81c14fbaaec97709f7daf8
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
Donaldson, David
David Donaldson
D Donaldson
Description
An account of the resource
309 Items and a sub-collection of 51 items. Concerns Royal Air Force career of Wing Commander David Donaldson DSO and bar, DFC. A pilot, he joined the Royal Air Force Reserve in 1934. Mobilized in 1939. he undertook tours on 149, 57 and 156 and 192 Squadrons. He was photographed by Cecil Beaton at RAF Mildenhall in 1941. Collection contains a large number of letters to and from family members, friends as well as Royal Air Force personnel. Also included are personal and service documents, and his logbooks. In addition, there are photographs of family, service personnel and aircraft. After the war he became a solicitor. The collection also contains an oral history interview with Frances Grundy, his daughter.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Anna Frances Grundy 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
2015-06-02
2022-10-17
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
Donaldson, D
Grundy, AF
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
53, LIMERSTON STREET,
LONDON, SW10 0BL
01-352 4460.
D.W.D.
D.S.O & Bar Awarded 14.5.43 and 17.7.45
D.F.C Awarded 7 February 1941
1939/45 Star
Air Crew Europe Star (With France & Germany clasp)
Defence Medal
War Medal 1939/45
Air Efficiency Award
(DSO, Bar & DFC have year of award engraved on back)
(Air Efficiency Award has name & [indecipherable word] on rim)
J.D. War Medal 1939/45
[page break]
RAF Service
53, LIMERSTON STREET,
LONDON, SW10 0BL
01-352 4460.
D.W.D.
RAFO (A.A OD) 13.8.34 – 31.1.37 ASTLd Hamble etc
RAFVR 1.2.38 – 2.9.39 Avro Cadet, BE2.A.
RAF EVANTON (Scotland) 3.9.39 – 26.4.40. Hanley. (Target Training).
RAF BRIZE NORTON (2 SFTS) 27.4.40 – 9.8.40 Oxford, Flying Training
No15. OUT RAF HARWELL 10.8.40 – 19.9.40 Wellington Training
No149 (B)Sqd RAF MILDENHALL 20.12.40 – 7.3.40[sic] Wellington. 31. Ops
Detailed to Air Ministry & British [indecipherable words] NEW YORK and ATFERO for Ferrying Duties USA Canada Iceland & UK. 8.3.41 – 28.9.41. Hudson and Wellington.
No 57(B) Sqdn. Feltwell & [indecipherable word] 26.9.41 – 20.x11.41 Wellingtons. 5 Ops.
RAF Hospitals Ely and Littleport & Sick leave 20.x11.42[sic] 9.3.42
H.Q 3 Group RAF EXNING 9.3.42 14.7.42 Staff-Group Tactics Offices
No.18. OUT RAF HARWELL & HAMPSTEAD NORRIS 15.3.42 18.1.43 Instructor 1, Op. Wellingtons
RAF WARBOYS (Pathfinders) 18.1.43 21.6.43. Flight Commander (WgCom) Pathfinders 23, Ops.
P.T.O.
[page break]
No 1667 Heavy Conversion Unit. RAF LINDHOLME & FALDINGWORTH. 21.6.43 – 14.12.43 Chief Instructor Lancasters.
HQ 100 Group RAF West Raynham & BYLAUGH Hall 15.12.44[sic] 12.6.44 Staff Air 1 & D.S.A.S.O 2 Ops.
RAF FOULSHAM, No 192 Sqdr. (Spec Duties) 12.6.44 – 6.9.45. CO Air [indecipherable word] & Signals Investigation Halifax. 21, Ops.
H.Q 100 Group RAF BYLAUGH HALL 6.9.45 1.10.45. (W/C. Ops).
Demob [indecipherable word] 1.10.45 – 25.x1.45.
[underlined] JD. [/underlined]
WAAF October 1939 – Feb 1940 Initial Training
RAF Bentley Priory H.Q. Fighter Command Feb 1940 – June 1940 Filter Plotter
Code & Cypher Training at OXFORD June 1940 – August 1940 ASO Code & Cypher Training ASO
RAF MILDENHALL Bomber Command August 1940 – Late Summer 1941 C&C Offices
RAF WYTON Bomber Command Section Offices Summer 1941 – Dec 1941 C&C Offices
H.Q Flying Training [indecipherable word] RAF CAVERSHAM Dec 1941 – April 1941[sic] C&C Duties
April 1941[sic] – [indecipherable word]
([indecipherable words])
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
Summary of medals and Royal Air Force Service for David and Joyce Donaldson
Description
An account of the resource
List medals for David Donaldson including Distinguished Service order and bar, Distinguished Flying Cross. Medal for Joyce Donaldson, War Medal 1939-45. Lists RAF Service for David Donaldson from 1934 to demob in November 1945. Lists Joyce Donaldson's wartime service in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force from October 1939 to April 1941.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
David Donaldson
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Three page handwritten document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Hampshire
England--Hamble-le-Rice
Scotland--Easter Ross
England--Oxfordshire
England--Berkshire
England--Suffolk
England--Norfolk
England--Exning
England--Ely
England--Huntingdonshire
England--London
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Yorkshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1934
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
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
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MDonaldsonDW70185-150610-07
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Steve Baldwin
100 Group
149 Squadron
15 OTU
1667 HCU
18 OTU
192 Squadron
3 Group
57 Squadron
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Service Order
ground personnel
Halifax
Heavy Conversion Unit
Hudson
Lancaster
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
Pathfinders
RAF Bentley Priory
RAF Brize Norton
RAF Evanton
RAF Faldingworth
RAF Feltwell
RAF Foulsham
RAF Hampstead Norris
RAF Harwell
RAF Lindholme
RAF Methwold
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Warboys
RAF West Raynham
RAF Wyton
training
Wellington
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1213/11929/[1]DAVID AND THE RAF2 [2].pdf
35b5401702ea96880cafe22e9866fad0
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
Donaldson, David
David Donaldson
D Donaldson
Description
An account of the resource
309 Items and a sub-collection of 51 items. Concerns Royal Air Force career of Wing Commander David Donaldson DSO and bar, DFC. A pilot, he joined the Royal Air Force Reserve in 1934. Mobilized in 1939. he undertook tours on 149, 57 and 156 and 192 Squadrons. He was photographed by Cecil Beaton at RAF Mildenhall in 1941. Collection contains a large number of letters to and from family members, friends as well as Royal Air Force personnel. Also included are personal and service documents, and his logbooks. In addition, there are photographs of family, service personnel and aircraft. After the war he became a solicitor. The collection also contains an oral history interview with Frances Grundy, his daughter.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Anna Frances Grundy 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
2015-06-02
2022-10-17
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
Donaldson, D
Grundy, AF
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DAVID AND THE RAF
My brother David’s very distinguished wartime career with the RAF - two DSOs and a DFC, and promotion to Wing Commander at 28 - warrants a separate appendix to these family notes. He has kindly helped me to compile it by giving me the run of his log books, and I have supplemented them from a number of other sources.
He became interested in flying in the early 1930s. I recall him taking his small brother of 9 or 10 to an air show at Eastleigh and abandoning him while he went up as passenger in a Tiger Moth doing aerobatics. That may well have given him the incentive to join the RAF Volunteer Reserve in 1934 as a weekend pilot. He did much of his training at Hamble, on the Solent. When war broke out in September 1939 he was called up immediately and had to abandon his legal training. He spent the “phoney war” towing target drogues at a bombing and gunnery school at Evanton in Scotland. His log books show him rated as an “average” pilot.
At the end of April 1940, just before the Germans attacked in the West, he went to Brize Norton for intermediate training (earning an “above-average” rating) and then to Harwell for operational training on Wellingtons, the main twin-engined heavy bomber of the early war years. On 20th September, just as the Battle of Britain was ending, he was posted to his first operational squadron, No 149, part of No 3 Group, at the big pre-war air station at Mildenhall. His first operational sortie was over Calais towards the end of September, no doubt to attack the invasion barges.
Over the following five months he took part in some 31 night raids. The German defence at this time was relatively feeble by comparison with what was to follow, and so the tour was correspondingly tolerable; however bitter experience had shown that day bombing was much too costly, and the night bombing techniques were very inaccurate. His first raid on Berlin, at the end of October, was particularly eventful; they got hopelessly lost on their return, came in over Bristol, and ended up over Clacton as dawn was breaking with very little fuel left. There both the Army and the Navy opened up on them, and even the Home Guard succeeded in putting a bullet through the wing. They eventually made a forced crash landing at St Osyth. The Home Guard commander, a retired general, entertained him generously and he finally got back to Mildenhall where his Group Captain forgave him for the damaged aircraft and advised him to go out and get drunk. He took the advice, and in the pub he met a WAAF whom he married eight months later (maybe that is why he remembers that particular day so well.)
The gauntlet of Friendly Fire seems to have been a not uncommon hazard to be faced. On another occasion, when he had to make three circuits returning to Mildenhall, the airfield machine gunners opened fire on him from ground level; he thought they were higher up and judged his height accordingly, and narrowly missed the radio masts which were not, as he thought, below him.
The longest raids on this tour were trips of over ten hours to Italy: to Venice, which they overflew at low level, and to the Fiat works at Turin. He described the latter raid, and the spectacular views of the Alps it afforded, in a BBC broadcast in December 1940. The commonest targets were the Ruhr and other German cities, and some raids were made at lower level on shipping in French ports. The raid which won him the DFC was on 22nd November, on Merignac aerodrome near Bordeaux, which “difficult target he attacked from a height of 1,500 feet and successfully bombed hangars, causing large fires and explosions. As a result of his efforts the task of following aircraft was made easier ......... He has at all times displayed conspicuous determination and devotion to duty.”
It was at Mildenhall that he featured in a series of propaganda photos by Cecil Beaton,
“A Day in the Life of a Bomber Pilot”; they were given a good deal of publicity and in fact David appears in one of them on the cover of the recently published video of the 1941 propaganda film “Target for Tonight”, also made with the help of 149 Squadron - though he did not take part in the film. Beaton describes the occasion at some length in his published diaries, though he has thoroughly scrambled the names and personalities, and he “demoted“ David from captain to co-pilot in his scenario.
On completion of this tour, early in March 1941, David was detached on secondment to the Air Ministry to assist with buying aircraft in North America, and later to ferry aircraft within North America and across the Atlantic - he flew the Atlantic at least twice in Hudsons, taking 12 hours or more.
The “chop rate” in Bomber Command increased substantially during the first half of 1941. [Footnote: The average sortie life of aircrew in the Command was never higher than 9.2 and at one time was as low as eight, and during the dark days of 1941-1943 the average survival chances of anyone starting a 30-sortie tour was consistently under 40% and sometimes under 30%. In one disastrous raid, on Nuremburg in March 1944, 795 planes set out, 94 were shot down and another 12 crashed in Britain. During the war as a whole, out of some 125,000 aircrew who served with Bomber Command, 55,500 died.] This coupled with increasing doubts about the value of the results obtained led to a serious decline in aircrew morale. During the summer of 1941 the Germans had considerable success with intruders - fighter aircraft attacking the bombers as they took off or landed at their own bases. At the end of September David returned to No 3 Group and joined No 57 Squadron at Feltwell, still with Wellingtons. His third raid, over Dusseldorf on October 13th, was particularly difficult; they were badly shot up and with their hydraulics out of action they crash landed at Marham on their return. After two more raids the strain finally proved too much and he was admitted to hospital just before Christmas 1941; for the next two months he was there or on sick leave. From then until mid-July he was Group Tactical Officer at HQ No 3 Group, and not directly involved in operations. In July 1942 he was posted to No 15 Operational Training Unit, at Harwell and Hampstead Norris, where he spent six months as a flight commander flying Ansons and Wellingtons, though he did participate in one raid on Dusseldorf while he was there.
In spite of the appointment of Harris early in 1942 and the introduction of the Gee radio navigational aid, results were still considered disappointing, particularly over the Ruhr, and serious questions were raised about the future of Bomber Command. To improve matters, in August 1942 the elite Pathfinder Force was set up under Don Bennett, albeit in the face of considerable opposition from most of the group commanders who were reluctant to lose their best crews to it. At least initially, all the crews joining it had to be volunteers, and to be ready to undertake extended tours. Their task was to fly ahead of the Main Force in four waves: the Supporters, mainly less experienced crew carrying HE bombs, who were to saturate the defences and draw the flak; the Illuminators, who lit up the aiming point with flares; and the Primary Markers and Backers Up who marked the aiming point with indicators. Their methods became more and more refined as the war went on. The increased accuracy required of them, and their position at the head of the bomber stream, inevitably exposed them to greater danger and a higher casualty rate than those of the Main Force.
No 156 Squadron was one of the original units in the Force; it operated from the wartime airfield of Warboys with Wellingtons until the end of 1942 and thereafter with 4-engined Lancasters, the very successful heavy bomber which was the mainstay of Bomber Command in the later years. The squadron flew a total of 4,584 sorties with the loss of 143 aircraft - a ratio of 3.12%. David joined it in January 1943, again as a flight commander. In the following four months he carried out a further 23 raids (all but one as a pathfinder) in Lancasters. The log books note occasional problems - “coned”, “shot up on way in”, “slight flak damage”, and so on. [Footnote: "Coned" = caught in a cone of converging searchlights, an experience which he says put him off hunting for life.] Much of the period became known as the Battle of the Ruhr, though other targets were also being attacked. He told me once that the raid he was really proud to have been on was the one where instead of marking the targeted town (I think Dortmund) they marked in error a nearby wood, which the main force behind them duly obliterated; only after the war did the Germans express their admiration for the British Intelligence which had identified the highly secret installation hidden in the wood.........
One of the pages in his log book has a cutting from the Times inserted, evidently dated some years later, recalling how in April 1943 the spring came very early and the hedges were billowing with white hawthorn blossom. This puzzled me until I read in a book on 156 Squadron how that blossom had come to have the same significance for them as the Flanders poppies of the 1914-1918 war.
David was promoted to Wing Commander half way through the tour (pathfinders rated one rank above the comparable level elsewhere), and awarded the DSO towards the end of it. The recommendation for this said that he had “at all times pressed home his attacks with the utmost determination and courage in the face of heavy ground defences and fighters. As a pilot he shows powers of leadership and airmanship which have set an outstanding example to the rest of the squadron” - and Bennett himself added, noting that David had just flown four operational sorties in the last five days, “he has provided an example of determination and devotion to duty which it would be difficult to equal.”
On the end of this tour in June 1943, he was sent to command No 1667 Conversion Unit at Lindholme and later Faldingworth. In December 1943 he transferred to a staff appointment at the headquarters of the newly formed 100 (SD) Group at West Raynham and later Bylaugh Hall. At this stage in the war the methods of attack and defence were growing increasingly complex, and this group was formed as a Bomber Support Group, including nightfighters, deceptive measures, and radio countermeasures (RCM). In June 1944, just after D-Day, he was given command of No 192 (SD) Squadron based at Foulsham, another wartime airfield. This squadron had been formed in January 1943 as a specialist RCM unit, and it pioneered this type of operation in Bomber Command; it flew more sorties and suffered more losses (19 aircraft) than any other RCM squadron. While RCM and electronic intelligence were its primary purpose, its aircraft often carried bombs and dropped them on the Main Force targets. RCM took a number of forms - swamping enemy radar and jamming it with “window” tinfoil, looking for new radar types and gaps in its coverage, deceptive R/T transmissions to nightfighters, and so on - and one of the attractions of the work was the considerable measure of autonomy, and the freedom to plan their own operations. These extended to tasks such as searching for V2 launch sites (recorded as “whizzers” in David’s log book) and trying to identify the radio signals associated with them, and supporting the invasion of Walcheren in September. The squadron was equipped with Wellingtons (phased out at the end of 1944), Halifaxes and Mosquitoes, plus a detachment of USAAF Lightnings.
This role was the climax of his career, and lasted until the end of the war and after. It involved him in 25 operational sorties, all in Halifax IIIs, the much improved version of this initially disappointing 4-engined heavy bomber. They carried special electronic equipment and an extra crew member known as the Special Operator. The record of these sorties in the log books, for the most part so formal and statistical up to this point, becomes a little more anecdotal: “rubber-necking on beach” (when he took two senior officers to see the breaching of the dykes at Walcheren), “Munster shambles”, “Lanc blew up and made small hole in aircraft [but only] 4 lost out of 1200!” The furthest east he went was to Gdynia in Poland; on returning from there he had the privilege of becoming the first heavy aircraft to land at Foulsham using the FIDO fog dispersal system. “Finger Finger Fido” was the cryptic comment in the log book.
A number of these sorties were daytime; on one of them, on September 13th, he was chased home by two ME109s which made six attacks on him. One of them opened fire but thanks to violent evasive action his aircraft was undamaged: his own gunners never got a chance to fire. No doubt it was skill of this sort, as well as his survival record, which gave his crew great faith in David’s ability to get them home safely. An encounter on December 29th 1944, on a Window patrol over the Ruhr, was not quite so satisfying; they claimed to have damaged a Ju88 which subsequently proved to be an unhurt Mosquito X from Swannington - and the Mosquito had identified them as a Lancaster. The log entry concludes “Oh dear. FIDO landing, flew into ground. What a day.”
He was awarded a bar to his DSO in July 1945. The recommendation, made in March, recorded that “since being posted to his present squadron he has carried out every one of his sorties in the same exemplary fashion and has set his crews an extremely high standard of devotion to duty and bravery. This standard has had a direct influence on the whole specialist work of the squadron.
“He has been personally responsible for the planning of all the sorties carried out by his special duty unit and by his brilliant understanding and quick appreciation of the everchanging nature of the investigational role of his squadron, much of the success of the investigations performed by his aircraft can be attributed to him. He has shown himself to be fearless and cool in the face of danger, and towards the end of his tour made a point of putting himself on the most arduous and difficult operations.
“Both on the ground and in the air he has been untiring and has not spared himself in his efforts to get his squadron up to the high standard which it has now reached.”
The squadron was disbanded in September, by which time David had completed 501 hours of operations against the enemy in 86 sorties, the great majority of them as captain of his aircraft. He had no ambition to make a permanent career in the RAF; he has commented to Richard that this fact gave him a degree of independence in his dealing with his superiors that he thinks they appreciated and valued. He was demobilised in November and returned to his interrupted law studies.
* * * * * * * * * *
I showed these notes to David, who thought them well written but suggested that they gave a twisted view of the reality - a reaction that I can understand. Since then, however, I have managed to contact one man who flew with David: H B (Hank) Cooper DSO DFC, who first met David in 149 Squadron which he joined in January 1941 as a wireless operator / air gunner for his first tour, and later did two tours as a Special Operator in 192 Squadron, the second of them under David's command. On two occasions he flew as a member of David's crew.
He has written of David that "he was always completely fearless and outstandingly brave and pressed home his attacks to the uttermost. As the Squadron's CO he generated loyalty and warmth, he was an outstanding model to follow. He spent much trouble and time encouraging his junior air crews as well as helping and seeing to the needs of the ground technicians who serviced the aircraft, generally in cold and difficult conditions. He was completely non-boastful, in fact he belittled his own actions (which were always of the highest order) when discussing air operations. [That rings very true!] He was an outstanding squadron commander in all respects, much liked and completely respected by all his air crews and ground crews."
G N D
March 2002
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
David and the RAF
Description
An account of the resource
Account of Wing Commander David Donaldson's RAF career from his early interest in flying and joining the Royal Air Force volunteer reserve in 1934, call up in 1939 and operational tours on 149 Squadron, 57 Squadron, flight commander 156 Squadron pathfinders and commanding 192 (special duties) squadron. Includes training, descriptions of notable operations and incidents, postings between tours to headquarters and training units, pathfinder techniques, radio countermeasures and award of two Distinguished Service Orders and a Distinguished Flying Cross.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
G N Donaldson
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2002-03
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Four page printed document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BDonaldsonGNDonaldsonDWv1
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--Hampshire
England--Hamble-le-Rice
England--Eastleigh
England--Oxfordshire
England--Norfolk
Scotland--Ross and Cromarty
Scotland--Evanton
England--Suffolk
England--Huntingdonshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Bristol
England--Essex
England--Clacton-on-Sea
Italy
Italy--Venice
Italy--Turin
Germany
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Dortmund
Netherlands
Netherlands--Walcheren
England--Berkshire
France
France--Bordeaux Region (Nouvelle-Aquitaine)
Poland
Poland--Gdynia
Germany--Münster in Westfalen
England--Yorkshire
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Gloucestershire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1934
1939
1940-04
1940-09-20
1940-10
1940-12
1941-10-22
1941
1941-04
1942
1942-07
1942-08
1943
1943-01
1943-04
1943-06
1944
1944-06
1944-09-13
1944-12-29
1945
1945-07
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending review
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
Frances Grundy
100 Group
149 Squadron
15 OTU
156 Squadron
1667 HCU
192 Squadron
3 Group
57 Squadron
aircrew
Anson
Bennett, Donald Clifford Tyndall (1910-1986)
bombing
crash
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Service Order
FIDO
forced landing
Gee
Halifax
Halifax Mk 3
Heavy Conversion Unit
Hudson
Ju 88
Lancaster
Me 109
Mosquito
Operational Training Unit
P-38
Pathfinders
pilot
propaganda
RAF Brize Norton
RAF Evanton
RAF Faldingworth
RAF Feltwell
RAF Foulsham
RAF Hampstead Norris
RAF Harwell
RAF Lindholme
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Warboys
RAF West Raynham
target indicator
training
Wellington
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1523/41481/BLoveGLoveAIv1.2.pdf
80cbfc6ec80ea829173b9674b152e1d5
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
Love, Ikey
Albert Ivon Love
A I Love
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
2016-07-10
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
Love, AI
Description
An account of the resource
15 items. The collection concerns Sergeant Albert "Ikey" Ivon Love (1922 - 2016, 1815027 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, items, and photographs. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 90 and 7 Squadrons before being shot down and becoming a prisoner of war.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by G Love 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
Memories of Past Times
Ikey Love 1922-2016
Description
An account of the resource
A biography of Ikey Love. Covers pre and post war life as well as training, operations and time as a prisoner of war during the war.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Bedfordshire
England--Kettering
England--Leicester
England--Sileby
Egypt
England--Ashbourne
England--Coventry
England--Redcar
Wales--Llandudno
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Lithuania
Poland
Poland--Szczecin
Germany--Dresden
England--Thurmaston
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Mannheim
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Schweinfurt
England--Cornwall (County)
Germany
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
Royal Canadian Air Force
Civilian
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.
1943
1944-03-22
1944-03-23
1945
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Text. Personal research
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
33 printed sheets
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending text-based transcription
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BLoveGLoveAIv1
90 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
B-17
bale out
bomb aimer
bombing
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
C-47
Caterpillar Club
flight engineer
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
Lancaster Mk 3
Me 110
military service conditions
mine laying
missing in action
Pathfinders
prisoner of war
RAF Oakington
RAF Upwood
RAF Warboys
sport
Stalag Luft 1
Stalag Luft 6
Stirling
the long march
Tiger Moth
V-1
V-2
V-weapon
Whitley
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1963/41315/BLazenbyHJLazenbyHJv1.2.pdf
35022f62bb4527b9a7da34bd424ec42f
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
Lazenby, Harold Jack
H J Lazenby
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
2017-10-10
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
Lazenby, HJ
Description
An account of the resource
11 items. The collection concerns Warrant Officer Harold Jack Lazenby DFC (b. 1917, 652033 Royal Air Force) and contains his memoir, documents and photographs. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 57, 97 and 7 Squadrons.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Daniel, H Jack Lazenby 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
H Jack Lazenby DFC
Description
An account of the resource
Harold Jack Lazenby's autobiography.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Warrington
England--Wolverhampton
England--Shifnal (Shropshire)
England--London
England--Bampton (Oxfordshire)
England--Witney
England--Oxford
England--Cambridge
France--Paris
England--Portsmouth
England--Oxfordshire
England--Southrop (Oxfordshire)
England--Cirencester
England--Skegness
England--Worcestershire
England--Birmingham
England--Kidderminster
England--Gosport
England--Fareham
England--Southsea
Wales--Margam
Wales--Port Talbot
Wales--Bridgend
Wales--Porthcawl
England--Urmston
England--Stockport
Wales--Cardiff
Wales--Barry
United States
New York (State)--Long Island
Illinois--Chicago
England--Gloucester
Scotland--Kilmarnock
England--Surrey
England--Liverpool
England--Lincolnshire
England--Lincoln
Denmark--Anholt
Poland--Gdańsk
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Essen
Germany--Kiel
Europe--Mont Blanc
Denmark
England--Hull
Czech Republic--Plzeň
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Mablethorpe
Germany--Cologne
Italy--Turin
France--Bordeaux (Nouvelle-Aquitaine)
England--Land's End Peninsula
Italy--San Polo d'Enza
Italy--Genoa
Italy--Milan
Algeria
Algeria--Blida
Algeria--Atlas de Blida Mountains
England--Cambridge
England--Surrey
England--Ramsey (Cambridgeshire)
Germany--Mannheim
Germany--Munich
France--Montluçon
Germany--Darmstadt
Scotland--Elgin
England--York
Scotland--Aberdeen
England--Grimsby
Germany--Saarbrücken
Germany--Zeitz
Germany--Ludwigshafen am Rhein
Germany--Wanne-Eickel
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Kleve (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Chemnitz
Germany--Heide (Schleswig-Holstein)
Germany--Wuppertal
Germany--Homberg (Kassel)
Netherlands--Westerschelde
Germany--Rheine
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Helgoland
Germany--Bremen
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Belgium
England--Southend-on-Sea
England--Morecambe
England--Kineton
England--Worcester
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Mülheim an der Ruhr
England--London
Italy--La Spezia
France--Dunkerque
Poland--Szczecin
Poland
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Recklinghausen (Münster)
Netherlands
England--Sheringham
England--Redbridge
France--Saint-Nazaire
Atlantic Ocean--Kattegat (Baltic Sea)
Germany
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
Royal Air Force. Transport Command
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
99 printed sheets
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BLazenbyHJLazenbyHJv1
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Lazenby, Harold Jack
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
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending text-based transcription
1654 HCU
20 OTU
207 Squadron
4 Group
5 Group
57 Squadron
617 Squadron
7 Squadron
97 Squadron
air gunner
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
B-17
B-24
Bennett, Donald Clifford Tyndall (1910-1986)
bomb aimer
bombing
bombing of Helgoland (18 April 1945)
briefing
Catalina
Chamberlain, Neville (1869-1940)
crewing up
debriefing
demobilisation
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
Distinguished Service Order
Eder Möhne and Sorpe operation (16–17 May 1943)
entertainment
flight engineer
flight mechanic
Flying Training School
George VI, King of Great Britain (1895-1952)
Gibson, Guy Penrose (1918-1944)
ground crew
ground personnel
H2S
Halifax
Hampden
hangar
Harris, Arthur Travers (1892-1984)
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
Hudson
Hurricane
Ju 88
killed in action
Lancaster
love and romance
Manchester
Master Bomber
Me 110
Me 262
mechanics engine
mess
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
Mosquito
navigator
Navy, Army and Air Force Institute
Nissen hut
Oboe
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
Pathfinders
pilot
radar
RAF Barkstone Heath
RAF Bassingbourn
RAF Benson
RAF Bourn
RAF Brize Norton
RAF Colerne
RAF Cosford
RAF Cranwell
RAF Dunkeswell
RAF East Kirkby
RAF Elvington
RAF Fairford
RAF Halton
RAF Lossiemouth
RAF Melton Mowbray
RAF Mepal
RAF Oakington
RAF Padgate
RAF Pershore
RAF Scampton
RAF Silverstone
RAF St Athan
RAF Stormy Down
RAF Swinderby
RAF Talbenny
RAF Tangmere
RAF Upper Heyford
RAF Upwood
RAF Uxbridge
RAF Valley
RAF Warboys
RAF Wigsley
RAF Wing
recruitment
Resistance
Spitfire
sport
Stirling
target indicator
training
V-1
V-2
V-weapon
Victoria Cross
Wellington
Whitley
Window
wireless operator
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30730/BJonesTJJonesPWv1.2.pdf
765081f4ed49b9ebdbc981de32e5f147
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
Jones, Thomas John
Tom Jones
T Jones
Description
An account of the resource
62 items. An oral history interview with Peter William Arthur Jones (b. 1954) about his father Thomas John Jones DFC (b. 1921, 1640434 and 184141 Royal Air Force), his log book, photographs, correspondence, service documents, aircraft recognition manuals, medals and a memoir. He flew operations as a flight engineer on 622 Squadron Stirling and 7 Squadron on Lancaster. <br /><br />The collection also contains an <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2566">Album</a> of 129 types of aircraft. <br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Peter Jones and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
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
2014-12-04
2017-12-07
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Jones, PW
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
THE LUCKY CREW
[photograph]
T.J. Jones DFC & P.W. Jones
1
[page break]
Introduction
I, like many children born in the mid-fifties, grew up surrounded by reminders of World War Two. There were the L-shaped trenches, in a field, near my home, which had housed searchlights and anti-aircraft guns. There were also trees and telegraph poles with their fading white collars.
So it was that I would ask that question all little boys asked their Father in those days, “what did you do in the war, Dad”?
My Father would reply, modestly, that he had been a flight engineer on bombers. That was all he ever said no details, no bravado, no hint of heroism, or the horrors he had endured.
In time I learned that he had been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, but never discovered why.
That is how it was until his sad death on 28th January 2004.
My Mother and I were sorting out some of his papers, kept in an old wartime suitcase, when we came upon a small green notebook. This notebook was to unlock Dad’s story. For there were the memories he never told.
It would appear that he had put pen to paper in the 1990’s, some fifty years after the war. Reading that book, so shortly after his death, made me very sad. It also made me immensely proud of the modest Father I had known and loved for almost fifty years.
And what of the DFC, there was no mention of it. Did his natural modesty prevent him from recording why he was awarded it, or were the memories too painful?
The following pages tell his story.
Peter W Jones
[italics] When we first arrived the command “Attention” was followed by a noise like load of house-bricks falling of a lorry and a cry from the drill corporal
‘You dozy lot, wake up now. Bags of swank.’ At the passing-out parade six weeks later the same command produced a noise like a rifle shot. As we marched away along the promenade, rifles in line, heels crashing in unison, arms swinging shoulders high, we had what the corporal had wanted to see, Bags of swank!
I remember R.A.F. Cosford and the flight mechanics course. how young and eager we were, picking up the service slang and clichés. On arrival we were assigned to wooden huts with eight double-tier bunks down each side, a plain wooden table with two benches, andf a small stove in te middle of the hut.
The first week of every new entry was spent on fatigues. Peeling four feet high piles of vegetables. After every meal the floors and tables of the vast dining halls had to be cleaned and polished.
Guard duties, fetching carrying, pushing, scrubbing. We were at everyones beck and call, but it was fair, every new intake did it.
Wednesday afternoons were spent on field exercises. Prowling through muddy fields and woods, everything that involved mud and muck. Camouflage, grenade throwing, bayonet practice.
[page break]
Anti-gas procedure, groups of us standing in the gas chamber and being ordered to remove our respirators to prove that the room really was full of gas. Dashing out into the fresh air, coughing and spluttering, eyes streaming.
Wednesday nights were domestic nights and everyone was confined to barracks. Everything in the hut had to be cleaned and polished. Fire buckets and extinguishers, every inch of floor space to be polished and sparkling. Table and benches to be scrubbed. The last man coming out backwards the following morning polishing out the last foot prints ready for the flight commander’s inspection.i remember the precision of kit inspection. Each bed laid out with equipment, each piece in it’s correct place and every bed identical to the next.
The months of learning and cramming. Class-rooms and hangars, engines and airframes. Aero-dynamics, physics, mechanics. Hydraulics and pneumatics, fuel systems, carburation, airscrews, ignition systems and instruments. The form too. Maintenance manuals and periodicity talks. A seemingly endless number of subjects, all to be absorbed and remembered.
I remember the parades and the marching to and fro. The sound of a youthful tenor voice in one of the huts singing ‘Always.’ The bugle call at reveille and a P.T sergeant stamping down [italics]
“The Lucky Crew”
2
[page break]
[photograph]
The crew, left to right:
Fred Phillips RAAF, Dave Goodwin RNZAF, Stan Williamson RAAF
Clive Thurston RNZAF, Ron Wynne RAF, Joe Naylor RAF
Thomas Jones RAF, Steve Harper RAF.
This photograph was taken in September 1944 shortly after the crew completed their tour of 64 operations and left 7 Squadron. The aircraft they are standing in front of is Lancaster PA964 MG-K. This was last on the night of 6th October 1944 during a bombing raid on Scholven-Buer. The eight man crew, that night, were captured and held in Stalag Luft 7 at Bankau, from where they escaped in April 1945.
PA964 had survived 244 hours of operationsal flying, much of it in the hands of “The Lucky Crew”.
3
[page break]
FORWARD
Thomas Jones’s memoir gives a vivid description of life in a bomber squadron Pathfinder Fo9rce. The account of his experience as a Flight Engineer on operations in Stirling’s and Lancaster’s depicts the stresses, strains and comradeship of a bomber crew and the extent of a flight engineers tasks.
Very few crews survived as many as 64 bomber operations which Thomas Jones and crew achieved (my own contribution was 60 sorties) so his memoirs form an important contribution to the history of Bomber Command operations and it’s crews.
Wing Commander Philip Patrick MBE DFC
[622 Sqd. Crest] [7 Sqd. Crest]
Squadron crests reproduced by permission of the Secretary of State for Defence.
4
[page break]
I remember a happy childhood, firstly in central Birmingham then the southern district of Hall Green. I didn’t dislike school. My early teens were spent under the threat of war, which was declared when I was eighteen.
The blackout became a way of life for six long years. The nights spent in the air-raid shelter, my mother asking me to come away from the entrance where I was watching the havoc, into the deeper safety of that cold damp cell.
I recall the scream of falling bombs and the shudder of the earth on impact. The noise of the anti-aircraft guns firing a short distance away, like great iron doors slamming, and the hissing rush of the shells fading away as they sped up to the heavens and the German bombers. I remember my sister weeping quietly when it all got too much for her. The metallic tinkle of shell splinters as they rained down on roofs and road surfaces. The reflection of a hundred fires on the cloud as my city burned.
I was both fascinated and appalled at the effects of the nights bombing. On my way to work, at the BSA, in the early morning light I was stepping over the rubble of houses that had been hit by bombs during the night. Of one house a solitary wall left standing and on the bedroom mantelpiece a clock still showing the correct time. A house with no roof and a six-inch wide crack from eves to foundations, and not a window cracked. There was a double decker bus on Coventry Road, Small Heath, standing vertically on its bonnet.
I volunteered for aircrew duties in the RAF, the excitement and the boredom, the laughter and the comradeship the like of which is rarely experienced in civilian life. The songs and tunes of the period, each one associated with a particular time, a certain place or face.
Most of us who survived in one piece had an easy war compared to many others. No wounds, disfigurement or physical pain. No years of imprisonment torture disease, starvation and despair. That is why there is little pain for me to sit quietly, fifty years on, in that little room of memories going back down paths which divide and branch like blood vessels.
I was sent to RAF Cardington in September ’42, with its huge hangers where the great airships were built in the 1920s, for aircrew selection. I can easily recall the aircrew medical where everything was tested, examined, poked and prodded. There followed days of written, oral and aptitude tests. I remember the first time I entered the dining hall, the volume of the WAAF corporal’s voice reducing the occupants to silence, and the embarrassment on realising that the order to “put that bloody cigarette out” was directed at me. After four days home again to await my call-up papers, which I received a few weeks later.
And so in October to RAF Padgate with hours spent waiting in different rooms during induction. Being issued with my identity discs and service number, to be memorised and will be remembered for the rest of my life. Ask the service number of any ex-service man who enlisted all those years ago and he will recite it without the slightest hint of hesitation.
I remember the outstretched arms laden with clothing and equipment in the kitting out stores. The WAAF’s singing “Jealousy” in the station cinema as the little white ball bounced along the words on the screen. I recall the train journey to the Initial Training Wing (ITW) at Redcar on October 17th ‘42, and especially Mrs.Thatcher of 4 Richmond Road. Ken Battersby, Chas’ Curl and myself were billeted with her for six weeks and she looked after us like a mother hen. She made sure we were correctly dressed each morning when we went out on parade. She treated us as though we were her own sons.
The wind was icy on the sea front as we learned foot and rifle drill, fumbling with numbed fingers at the rifle bolt and rear sight. We did route marches and assault courses
5
[page break]
in full battle order, reaching the finish gasping for breath, with a supposedly wounded man across our shoulders.
I learned on the rifle range that a 303 when fired from the shoulder didn’t produce the crack as when heard from a distance. It produced a heavy numbing thud inside the head. The following day it would only take the sudden rustle of a newspaper to set the ears ringing again.
When we first arrived the command “attention” was followed by a noise like a load of house bricks falling off a lorry and a cry from the drill corporal “you dozy lot, wake up now, bags of swank”. At the passing out parade, six weeks later the same command produced a noise like a rifle shot. As we marched away along the promenade, rifles in line, heals crashing in unison, arms swinging shoulder high, we had what the corporal had wanted to see, “bags of swank”.
It was then to RAF Cosford in early December and the flight mechanics course. How young and eager we were, picking up the service slang and clichés. On arrival we were assigned to wooden huts with eight double tier bunks down each side, a plain wooden table with benches, and a small stove in the middle of the floor.
The first week of every entry was spent on fatigues. Peeling four-foot high piles of vegetables. After every meal the floors and tables of the vast dining halls had to be cleaned and polished. Guard duties, fetching and carrying, polishing and scrubbing. We were at everyone’s beck and call, but it was fair, every new intake did it.
Wednesday afternoons were spent on field exercises. Crawling through muddy fields and woods, everything involved mud and muck. Camouflage, grenade throwing, bayonet practice. Anti-gas procedure, groups of us standing in the gas chamber, and being given the order to remove our respirators to prove that the room really was full of gas, dashing out into the fresh air, coughing and spluttering, eyes streaming.
Wednesday nights were domestic nights and everyone was confined to barracks. Everything in the hut had to be cleaned and polished. Fire buckets and extinguishers, every inch of the floor space to be polished and sparkling, table and benches to be scrubbed. The last man coming out backwards the following morning polishing out the last footprints ready for the flight commander’s inspection. I remember the precision of kit inspection. Each bed laid out with equipment, each piece in its correct place and every bed identical to the next.
There were months of learning and cramming. Classrooms and hangers, engines and airframes. Aerodynamics, physics, mechanics. Hydraulics and pneumatics, fuel systems and carburation, airscrews, ignition systems and instruments. Maintenance manuals and countless other books. A seemingly endless number of subjects, all to be absorbed and remembered.
There were also the parades and the marching to and fro. The bugle calls at reveille and the PT sergeant stamping down the wooden floor of the hut banging each bunk with a pick-axe handle, shouting at the top of his voice “parade in fifteen minutes, last man out is on a week’s jankers”. And there was the dreaded Trade Test Board at the end of it all, and the feeling of great achievement on making the grade.
The next step on the ladder was to RAF St.Athan in April ’43 and the flight engineers course. Was it to be Stirling’s, Lancaster’s or Halifax’s? Oh youth and innocence, it was all great fun with little thought of the future.
We were billeted in the same type of wooden huts as at Cosford and did the same fatigues during the first week. Most of us had been together since ITW, a lot of us only eighteen, not many over twenty. The Scots lads, Tommy McMeachan, John Mullens, Jimmy
6
[page break]
Cruicshank and John Gartland all killed. Taffy Lightfoot and Roy Eames died over Bremen. Bill Curry shot down and killed whilst still training. There was also Albert Stocker, Arnold Hearne and Jack Walker. How many blurred faces on the edge of memory survived?
I was selected to train on the Short Stirling, the biggest of the four engine bombers of the time, eighty-seven feet long and twenty-eight feet high with the tail up. It had a fourteen tank fuel system with inter-wing and inter-engine balance cocks. Hercules XVI sleeve-valve engines with two speed superchargers and epicyclical reduction gears. The SU carburettors were the size of a car engine. The Stirling was renowned for being the electrician’s nightmare with its miles of electric wiring
There wasn’t a single subject or component part of the Stirling that we weren’t lectured on. After the intensive Trade Test Board examination I remember the brevets and chevrons being sewn on our tunics, the regulation button stick length from the shoulder seam. The young faces didn’t seem to match the rank and many of them wouldn’t survive to wear the flight sergeants crown.
[photograph]
Tom Jones, aged 22
RAF St. Athan, August 1943
And so, in July 1943, to 1657 Heavy Conversion Unit (HCU) at RAF Stradishall to be crewed up and to fly the aircraft we had been trained on. We were billeted in empty married quarters and reasonably comfortable but we soon discovered that they were directly in line with the main runway. All night long crews were practising circuits and landings and every few minutes an aircraft would roar overhead at fifty feet.
There is still another three weeks classroom work to do but now our instructors are not civilian technicians but veritable gods in our eyes, men who had completed a tour of thirty operations. There was no bravado about them but their eyes and faces showed a wealth of experience from which we were to benefit. When they lectured us we hung on their every word.
We were encouraged to visit the flight offices in our spare time, to get in as many flying hours as we could before being crewed up. I remember my first flight as a passenger. The pilot was a Canadian, flight sergeant Moore, who was still undergoing training. I’d always had the impression that an aircraft, once off the ground, flew straight
7
[page break]
and level. How wrong I was! We reached the dispersal and this great black monster and I climbed aboard with the crew, I had a few misgivings. Would I be airsick, would the height affect me? Some people couldn’t climb a ladder, and I had never been higher than the inside of a bedroom window.
We taxied to the runway, hesitated and then began the mad dash toward the other end. The aircraft’s thirty tons lifted off the runway and promptly began to sway from side to side and up and down, the wings actually flapped! The engines were nodding as if in mutual agreement on some topic of conversation. Looking down the fuselage toward the rear turret I could see the whole structure was twisting back and forth. I looked out of the window, a patchwork of fields, tiny houses and on our port quarter the airfield with its three intersecting runways. The height didn’t bother me at all but the continuous movement did. After ten minutes I quietly disgraced myself by being airsick. I, subsequently, flew over 300 hours before my stomach finally settled down.
Later, on the squadron, it became the practice for the ground crew to provide me with an empty tin every time we flew, daring me to make a mess in their spotless aircraft. This saved me from bankruptcy as squadron lore dictated that anyone sick on the floor of an aircraft had to pay the groundcrew to clean it up.
I was talking with a group of engineers in the mess, when an Australian flight sergeant pilot approached asking for me. He introduced himself as Fred Phillips and said that I was to be his engineer. A former insurance clerk from East St. Kilda, Melbourne and twenty years old. He was destined to be awarded the DFC before he reached twenty-one and awarded Bar for his DFC before his twenty second birthday. He introduced me to the rest of the crew. Dave Goodwin navigator, and Clive “thirsty” Thurston bomb-aimer, both New Zealanders. The gunners were Ron Wynne from Hyde Cheshire and Joe Naylor, known as John by everyone, from the village of Wymondham near Melton Mowbray. The wireless operator was another Australian, Stan Williamson from Punchbowl, Sydney.
Our first flight as a crew, on August 29th 1943, was a familiarisation, getting the feel of the aircraft. There were circuits and landings, during daylight and the same at night, over and over again until the different drills and check became automatic. We did three and two engined procedures, cross country flights and bombing practice. We flew 34 hours together, at RAF Stradishall, and were granted “fit for operations”. In my log book was entered my certificate, qualified to fly as flight engineer in Short Stirling’s Mk I and III.
On September 2nd ’43 we were posted to 622 squadron, at RAF Mildenhall. On arrival we spotted our first operational aircraft. It was parked in front of the flying control tower after landing from an operation the previous night. As we approach we could see it was punctured with jagged holes and the rear turret was a mass of battered twisted metal. Dried blood everywhere, a glove, a tuft of hair and a piece of jawbone with teeth still attached lay on the turret floor.
That night in the mess we asked how long it took to complete a tour of thirty operations. No one had ever known a crew that had finished a tour. I realised that we had reached the point where we were expected to pay, in kind, the cost of our training.
When we made up our beds that night no thought was given to who the previous occupant had been. We quickly learned that close friendships were not formed with other crews. A passing joke or a civil word sufficed. New faces appeared, sometimes for a few days, or a week or two, to disappear and be replaced by others. Their passing marked by a visit from the committee of adjustment to clear out their lockers and return personal property to next of kin. Their names rarely mentioned again. Morale gained nothing from speculation. Had it been quick as with a direct hit with flak, or a scrambling dash to get out
8
[page break]
of a blazing aircraft? A human torch falling to earth with mouth wide, in a silent scream of pain and horror? Forget it quickly! Do not dwell.
I remember there was always laughter and high spirits in the mess, we learned to laugh about flak and fighters, searchlights and crashes. If a pilot bragged about his good landings no one disagreed with him. Inevitably the day came when he misjudged it and bounced down the runway like a kangaroo. His life was made a misery for the next week. Every time he entered the mess all the pilots present deferred to him and wished they possessed his skill. Stories of silly mishaps did the rounds.
An aircraft on its take-off run had reached 85 knots when the pilot cleared his throat. The engineer, thinking he had asked for wheels up selected same and they finished up on their belly astride the railway lines two hundred yards beyond the runways end. This escapade earned an unofficial commendation on the mess notice board.
Flying whilst suffering with a head cold was discouraged as it led to sinus and inner ear problems. One lad had to report sick with a heavy cold and immediately a rumour was circulating that he knew the squadron was about to attack Berlin or Essen and was reporting sick to get out of it. This sort of thing happened all the time, but it was never vindictive, the victim enjoying the joke as much as anyone.
On an operational squadron the learning still went on, each of us learning something of the others jobs and duties. Ditching and parachute drills were carried out regularly when we weren’t flying, timing ourselves to see how many seconds it took us to get out. Bombing practice; cross country exercises in atrocious weather when visibility was less than the length of the runway. Flying in rain, snow and icing conditions.
There was also fighter affiliation, to practice the corkscrew. With the guns the bombers only defence against fighters, it was essential that we practice this manoeuvre with the help of Fighter Command. I recall the Spitfire’s curving arc of attack and the rear gunners call to “corkscrew port, go”. The horizon almost vertical, then swiftly up and to starboard over the cockpit canopy. Everyone hanging on tightly to the front edge of their seats, so as not to hit the roof. The feeling of weightlessness as the aircraft plunged away in a steep diving turn, the earth in front of the windscreen rotating clockwise as we lost height, the call “roll her, roll her”. The pilot pulling back on the stick to put us into a steep climbing turns to starboard. Again the mad dance of earth and sky, the gravitational forces pressing the body down and draining blood from the head; the cheeks and the mouth falling open. The relief as the fighter breaks off the attack, the earth and sky sliding back into place as we level off and assume course, and await the next attack.
It was during fighter affiliation that we discovered how manoeuvrable the giant Stirling was in flight. It was more agile than some aircraft a quarter of its size. However, it was a beast when manoeuvring on the ground.
Our first operation had been to lay sea-mines in the Katigat, a solo aircraft operation with a naval officer on board to trigger the mines. The next night Hannover, having to divert to RAF Tangmere on return due to flak damage to number 7 fuel tank. Two nights later mine laying in the Skaggerak; then Hannover again, Kassel, Ludwigshafen and Berlin. On these first op.’s we came back only three times on all four engines.
My station, when flying in Stirling’s, was at the front main spar of the wings where it passed through the fuselage, and I consequently saw little of what went on outside. The view from the astrodome was limited so when things were running smoothly I would go forward to the cockpit for ten minutes or so to have a look out.
I shall never forget the cloudscapes, climbing through thousands of feet of dark grey nothingness to emerge into a vivid blue sky with a floor of dazzling white stretching to the
9
[page break]
horizon in all directions. Flying along great canyons between the cliffs of cumulus. There was also nimbus, the cloud most respected by all airmen, with its anvil shaped head towering to altitudes we could never hope to reach. Flying through nimbus had us hanging on grimly as the aircraft is flung around by the air currents, us fearing that the wings would be torn off. There were continuous lightening flashes. The propeller arcs alive like Catherine wheels, and lightening cracking back and forth along the wireless aerials and guns. The tremendous energy generate4d within nimbus clouds is unnerving when experienced for the first time.
the sunsets were always beautiful with the changing colours of the clouds. From the brilliance of polished brass, to rose, pink, bronze, purple, and finally to black. All within a short time, but always warm. Dawns were different, they were cold. During the long boring flight home the first greying in the east would silhouette the swaying tail of the aircraft. The horizon slivers of grey-green light.even the first rays of the sun were always cold.
622 Squadron converted to Lancaster’s in November 1943. While the pilots and engineers were lectured by the engineer leader, two pilots were seconded to a Lancaster squadron for a few hours flying instruction then returned to instruct us. Flying in Lancaster’s meant that my station was next to the pilot. Five hours of training flights and we were away again. my logbook made up, qualified to fly as flight engineer in Lancaster Mk’s I and III.
Our bombing sorties took us to Berlin again, Schweinfurt, and twice to Stuttgart. By now we were one of the most experienced crews on the squadron and were selected to train for the elite Pathfinder Force.
We were sent to the Navigation Training Unit at RAF Warboys in March ’44. The bomb-aimer did a course on H2S equipment while I attended lectures on the bomb-site and bomb aiming. During our free evenings the navigator, Dave Goodwin, taught me how to use the bubble sextant and we spent several clear nights picking out the constellations and their stars. Dheneb, Altair, Betelgeux, Alderbaran, Arcturus, and a dozen more. From then on I had to take the sextant shots from the astrodome. We also attended lectures on pyrotechnics and target marking techniques. After nine hours of flying and six practice bombs on the range we were posted to 7 Squadron at RAF Oakington, near Cambridge, on April 2nd.
On arrival we discovered that the squadron C/Owing Commander Rampling had just been killed during a night raid. He was replaced by Wing Commander Guy Lockhart, aged just 27. He was killed four weeks later and replaced by Reggie Cox.
As a Pathfinder crew we were expected to complete two tours of thirty op.’s each with no rest period. Main force procedure was one tour of thirty op’s, six months rest as an instructor, then recall for another tour.
10
[page break]
[photograph]
The pilot would inform us “we are on the order of battle” and the butterflies in the stomach would begin to flutter their wings. They were always there, at the beginning because we didn’t know what to expect, and on subsequent op.’s because we did know. In those days it was a sign of weakness to admit fear but you could tell it was there. Normally quiet lads would chatter incessantly while the extrovert would withdraw inside himself. Others developed little quirks that they never had until their names were on the order of battle.
We would go out to the aircraft to carry out our inspections etc. then to the mess for lunch, but a ban on drinks at the bar. The aircraft would be take [sic] up for a night flying test to iron out any last minute snags. If it was a late briefing a couple of hours in bed, spreading a white towel over the blanket at the foot of the bed to indicate you require waking.
We would be woken with a torch shining on the face, a hand shaking the shoulder, and a voice saying “it’s time to get up”. Sitting on the edge of the bed, head sagging, desperately trying to wake up fully; while someone fumbles about in the dark, cursing, seeking the light switch. Little is said as we walk to the ablutions to wash and visit the toilets. A call of nature during a flak barrage could cause extreme embarrassment.
The pre-flight meal is usually something recommended by the aviation medicine people. A fried greasy dish, which is always disastrous for someone like me with an already queasy stomach, or baked beans which create gas and excruciating stomach pains as the atmospheric pressure falls as we climb to our cruising altitude.
I remember the pre-flight briefings and the walk past the armed guard at the door. The long room filled with trestle tables and benches, each one occupied by a crew. At the end a low stage and almost the entire wall covered by a huge map of Europe, for security reasons behind drawn curtains. A thick swathe of tobacco smoke hangs in the air. Everyone stands as the C/O arrives and the ritual begins.
The curtains covering the wall map are withdrawn and the target announced. A low murmur of voices rises from the assembled crews. Red tapes pinned to the map mark the route from base to the target and back, doglegged to squeeze between the ominous red patches which denote heavily defended areas, avoiding all but one, the target.
The intelligence officer is the first to take the stage with the latest information on the target, factories and products, railway yards etc. The state of the defences and positions of the night fighter stations along the route.
The navigation officer holds the stage for the longest period of time, going over the route. Times of take-off and set course, time and position of course changes rendezvous
11
[page break]
with the aircraft of other groups. “H” hour and the type of markers used, Parramatta, Newhaven or Wanganui. Codes, colours etc. and the inevitable time check. Each leader, in turn, taking the stage to divulge information relative to his section. Bomb aimers, gunners, engineers and wireless.
The Met. man with his charts, cloud information and prospects in the target area. Barometric pressures, temperatures, icing conditions and weather at base on return. The latter always bringing a burst of sardonic laughter from the crews but it was usually taken in good part, even on occasions eliciting a wry smile from the met. man himself.
The whole proceedings coming to a close with a few words from the C/O on the importance of a successful attack.
At a table at the other end of the room the adjutant is accepting the pocket contents of the crews. Wallets, loose change, last letters, even used bus and cinema tickets. All are placed in separate drawstring linen bags and tagged with the owners name rank and number, to be reclaimed on return. It never occurred to me to write a last letter. Was I that confident or thoughtless? On reflection, it must have been the latter.
The walk to the locker room is quiet and leisurely, different to the atmosphere in side. A noisy confusion of men and equipment, loud jocular remarks and laughter sounding a little forced. “Can I have your fried breakfast if you don’t come back?” “Yes, but what makes you think that you are coming back?” It all sounds so cruel and heartless now, but no one ever took exception to this type of banter.
While the gunners get into their heavy outer flying clothes, the rest of us don Mae West and parachute harness, pick up flying helmet, parachute pack and gloves. A WAAF driver would come to the door and shout “crew transport”.
All the WAAF’s I ever met were very efficient and went out of their way to be helpful and pleasant. Most of them could, with a smile, deflate the ego of a too adventurous lad, much to the delight of all present.
Several waiting crews clamber aboard with much scuffling of flying boots, and we begin the journey round the perimeter track to the dispersal points. There is a marked decrease in laughter and conversation now. The coach arrives at the first dispersal, “G-George” calls the driver, and a crew disembark under the nose of their aircraft. With a few mutters of good luck they slouch away. We drive on to “A-Able” and then us “O-Oboe”. We climb out of the coach, and with a wave from the WAAF driver, it draws away. This is when the butterflies in the stomach are at their worst. I pick up my gear and walk with the crew to the tail of the aircraft.
There is no ground crew to be seen. At any other time they would be laughing and joking with us, but not now. They will remain in their rough dispersal hut until we climb aboard before they emerge to prime the engines when we start up. No rules of security will be breached by them asking the name of the target, although they will have a good idea from the fuel and bomb load. They have seen it all with so many crews before we joined the squadron.
Aerodromes, in pictures and films, are mostly depicted as idyllic places. And so they are in Summer, the heat rising in shimmering waves over vast flat areas of grass and wild flowers and everything alive with birdsong. They rarely show the same scene in late autumn or winter, when the grass surrounding the dispersal has been churned up by vehicles into a sea of mud; which in the January frost is turned into ankle breaking ruts. These are the conditions ground crew work in, no protection against driving rain snow and bitter winds; the engine fitters and mechanics working fifteen or twenty feet above the ground on swaying gantries. They grumble and curse but all aircrew have great confidence
12
[page break]
in their skill and dedication. They take great pride in maintaining the cleanest and most efficient aircraft on the squadron, and woe betide anyone that bends it. The aircraft belongs to them, the aircrew only borrow it.
While the rest of the crew stood talking I would start my pre-flight checks. Tail unit control surfaces and tail wheel. Up the port side checking fuselage and wing surfaces, all engine cowlings in place and secure, pitot head cover removed. Examine undercarriage struts and also extensions for oil leaks. Trolley acc’. plugged in, tyres for damage and creep. Check bomb load and target indicators. Down the starboard side to the main door, static vent plugs removed. Inside now. How many times have I felt my way up and down the fuselage with eyes tightly closed so that I could locate every component in the dark? I had to be able to find every fire axe, extinguisher, field dressing and the morphia, portable oxygen bottle, intercom, and oxygen connections. As well as being able to put my hand on every hydraulic, pneumatic and electrical component, know what it did, how it worked, and what in-flight repairs I could carry out. I would also check fuel contents and oxygen supply. These careful checks were meticulously carried out prior to every flight. It was the drill and the ground crew accepted that it did not reflect on their efficiency.
I rejoin the crew outside. There is nothing to do now but wait, and still forty minutes to go before we climb aboard. We smoke one cigarette after another. Everyone wants to be off and to get the job done. We all want to be able to do something, anything, but wait. The airfield is strangely silent, save for the feint whining of a three-ton truck on the perimeter track over a mile away. A rook can be heard crowing in a distant copse.
A car turns into the dispersal and pulls up under the wing. The Wing Commander alights and has a word with the pilot. Satisfied that all is well he wishes us good luck and drives on to the next dispersal. At intervals other cars arrive with the section leaders, each checking that there are no snags. Then the Padre and Medical Officer arrive. The M/O offers us caffeine and airsickness capsules. And all the time the butterflies in the stomach keep up their constant flutter.
Ten minutes to go and time for the rear gunner to get into his turret. With so much bulky clothing he needs help to get in, so one of us pushes him in on his back feet first. We stand outside his turret talking to him through the clear-vision panel.
A few stutters then a steady roar follow the distant whine of a starter motor as an aircraft begins to start up. The pilot checks his watch and says, “time to go”. We say “see you later” to the rear gunner and make our way to the main door, throw in our gear, and climb the ladder in turn, the last man aboard stowing the ladder and securing the door.
There follows the uphill walk to the cockpit, leaning forward against the angle of the floor. Then the overpowering petrol fumes as we climb over the main spar in the centre section. On reaching our seats the pilot and I continue our checks. Flying controls free and working full range, undercarriage warning lights showing green. Brake pressure ok. Propeller pitch, fully fine. Number two fuel tanks on. Radiator flaps to override, superchargers in moderate gear.
The ground crew has appeared, two men climbing precariously up the undercarriage struts into the nacelles where the Ki-gas pumps are situated. With the pilot operating the ignition switches and starter buttons, and myself the slow running idle cut-off switches and throttle levers we start the engines in sequence from port outer to starboard outer. Trolley acc’ plug disconnected and jettisoned, ground flight switch to flight. A short period with engines at 1200 revs to allow them to warm up, then run up each in turn to full power, checking rpm, boost pressure setting and magneto levels. I select bomb-doors closed, a last look around the cockpit instruments and “ok, chocks away”.
13
[page break]
On receiving the hand signal a man on each side of the aircraft runs forward to drag away the heavy wooden chocks at the end of their ropes. With a hiss of released brakes and a burst of power from the engines we are guided out of the dispersal to join the squadron, the ground crew turning their backs to the gale of dust and flying debris.
A squadron of Lancaster’s taxing out to take off is an impressive sight. Each aircraft weighing twenty-eight tons they move round the perimeter track, nose to tail, like great ducks. With up to a hundred Merlin engines roaring and breaks [sic] hissing and squealing they taxi past at up to 30mph. The noise laden air vibrates against the face and the ground trembles.
A small farm cottage on the edge of the airfield is occupied by a young married couple who always stand at their garden gate with a child in their arms as we go by. All the crews return the little girl’s wave, the gunners raising and lowering their guns. Over fifty years later I can still see that little face, surrounded by light curls, laughing, in spite of the noise and clamour.
As we pass the flying control tower, with the silent watching figures on the surrounding balcony, we glimpse the duty controller whose voice we hear over the radio.
I apply twenty-five degrees of flap, then, close the jettison valves and all balance cocks. Elevator trim two degrees nose heavy.
We join the queue at the end of the runway, moving up like cars in a traffic jam as aircraft take off. A burst of power to the engines, now and then, to prevent the plugs oiling up on the rich fuel mixture. A close watch on the temperature, as the engines quickly overheat at idle revs.
The butterflies in the stomach are beginning to subside now there is something to occupy the mind.
The aircraft in front of us is well down the runway as we turn onto the threshold, line up and come to a stop. The green Aldis signal light, at the chequered caravan, dazzles as the final checks are completed. Fuel boost pumps on. Barometric pressure set on the altimeter. Engine temperature and pressure ok. Radiator flaps to automatic. Compasses set to runway bearing. Cockpit windows closed.
The pilot settles himself comfortably in his seat and says, “right, all set” and opens the throttles to 2,000 revs. The cockpit becomes a vibrating Bedlam of noise, the aircraft straining against the brakes. From the corner of my eye I glimpse the fluttering white hankies of the off duty WAAFs who always assemble to wave each aircraft off.
With a sharp hiss the brakes are off, and we begin to roll forward. Steadily the pilot advances the throttles, jiggling them to keep the nose straight. The nose dips as the tail comes up, revealing the runway lights tapering almost to a point 2,000 yards ahead. “They are yours,” says the pilot, who now has rudder control, and I take over the throttle levers. Smoothly up through the gate and on to full power, 3,000 revs and 12lbs. boost. The noise of the four Merlin’s at full power is deafening and normal speech is impossible, even shouting through cupped hands directly into an ear is useless. The rumble of the wheels, felt rather than heard, is added to the world of noise. Halfway down the runway, and the gap between the two end runway lights grows at an alarming rate. 80 knots, then 90. The wheel rumble fades slightly as the wings begin to flex on the increasing cushion of air, the tyres skipping in long hops. 105 knots. The pilot crouches forward in concentration, eases the stick back and with a final bounce we are airborne. The runway lights flash by thirty feet below and we are clear of the boundary hedge. I lift the undercarriage selection levers and as the wheels start to retract two reds replace the two green lights on the indicator. With a slight clunck [sic] the wheels are up and the two reds wink out.
14
[page break]
Speed builds quickly as the pilot holds the nose down. At 165 knots he asks for climbing power and I adjust pitch and throttle levers to give 2,600 revs plus 6lbs boost as we climb away into the growing dusk. At 5,000 feet I lift flaps, the pilot correcting trim as the nose drops.
After the exhilaration of take-off the necessary chatter, over the intercom, dies away and everyone settles down to their individual routines.
I start to fill in my log, a time consuming process with the engine and aircraft details to record. With a full fuel load of 2,154 gallons, an engineer’s calculations must be accurate to within ten gallons; checked against remaining fuel on return to base. Gauges are only used to check for leaks.
After setting course on time over base we cross the coast at Cromer on the shoulder of Norfolk, still climbing. The gunners test their guns into the sea and after a short stuttering burst the smell of cordite wafts into the fuselage.
At ten thousand feet I turn on the oxygen supply. There is a chill in the air now as the temperature continues to fall. At near freezing on the ground it will be about minus twenty-five degrees at 18,000 feet.
Boost pressure and the rate of climb begin to fall off and I reach out to select full supercharge. There is a distinct clunck from all four engines as the higher gear is engaged and with the renewed surge of power we continue to climb.
“We’ll be crossing the enemy coast in three minutes” reports the navigator, and ten miles ahead there’s the reception committee. When we reach that position the pretty red twinkles in the sky will be flashes and explosions, near misses heard above the constant roar of the engines. The blast buffeting the aircraft and sending shell splinters through the thin skin of wings and fuselage.
We begin to weave and stars trace a figure of eight above the cockpit canopy. It’s like being on a big dipper and will continue until we cross the coast on our way home. The coastal flak is left behind and on reaching optimal height I reset revs and boost to cruising power, each engine reducing its fuel consumption to about forty-three gallons an hour.
Apart from the stars and the green glow of the instruments the night is black. The pilot, sat inches from my left shoulder is just a dark shadow. Our eyes straining to see the elusive faint blur that will indicate the presence of another aircraft. If it can be seen it is too close for safety and will have to be watched continuously to avoid collision. We’ll move away if it is ahead of us, many gunners open fire at anything creeping up astern of them, friend or foe.
Suspended three and a half miles above the earth it is possible to fly to Berlin and back without seeing another aircraft or feeling their slipstreams, although there could be several hundred in the stream. Another time the sky would be full of them.
To starboard and ahead a line of fighter flares light up the sky with a misty yellow glow, like someone running along a corridor switching lights on as they go. Immediately the guns are trained to port, the dark side, from where the attack will come. We drone forever along the wall of light, silhouetted, waiting for the hail of tracer. As we pass the last flare darkness closes in again, but the fighters are still with us.
Far ahead a green flare bursts and hangs in the sky, red stars dripping from it at six[1]second intervals. Placed by leading pathfinders the flare marks an accurate turning point for the main force. Ten minutes on the final leg from this point will bring them to the target area. The navigator confirms its accuracy as we round it.
16
[page break]
I check the engine instruments and fuel status. Nothing can be seen ahead, everything is black, and the navigator starts the countdown to “H” hour.
The bomb aimer turns his bombsight on, ensures the bombs are fused, and checks the selector and distribution boards. He feeds the necessary information into the bombsights ‘magic box’ and checks the responses to various settings. Dead on time the Blind Illuminators release their flares, row on row, as if each one is placed on the squares on a chessboard. A great floating carpet of light exposes the ground far below.
Still no defences to be seen, but they will be there loaded and aimed. Lying low and not giving anything away until they know we are certain of our position.
The Primary Markers will be making their run-in now, their bomb aimers searching for the aiming point. The target indicator bursts, releasing its contents which form a giant Christmas tree of the most brilliant red as they fall. A second pass as the Master Bomber closely circles the indicator to assess its accuracy. Finally over the RT comes his verdict “hello tonnage, the reds are ok, bomb the reds”. The complete marking process has taken about three minutes from the first illuminator flare being dropped to permission to bomb. Almost immediately the leading main force aircraft are over and sticks of high explosive and incendiary bombs are falling across the target.
By now the defences have opened fire and the sky directly ahead has become a wall of bursting shells and weaving searchlights.
We enter the flak barrage and the familiar sound of shell splinters ripping through the fuselage can be heard.
Two hundred feet below us an aircraft, with a wing on fire, lazily turns over and goes into a spin. Its crew will be fighting for their lives against the centrifugal force pinning them in their seats. No parachutes appear. We look away as they hurtle to earth and a sure end. Who were they, did we know them. Will we be next?
The target is now a bubbling carpet of fires and bursting bombs. From below light flak is coming up in a trelliswork of slow graceful curves; string upon string of balls of coloured light, deceptively beautiful until they reach you and flash by like the most deadly lightening.
Above and ahead an aircraft is caught in the intersection of three blinding searchlight beams, twisting, turning and diving as it’s clobbered by its own personal barrage.
The flak gets more intense as we get nearer the aiming point. The bomb aimer crouches over the bombsight to assess the rate at which we are approaching the target. Start the run too early and we are vulnerable in straight level flight for longer than necessary.
As the bomb doors are opened the aircraft stops weaving and begins to shudder as the slipstream enters the bomb bay and batters at the doors. The aiming point appears half way down the long arm of the graticule and the primary red indicator is burning itself out and beginning to fade. The bomb aimer can be heard over the intercom guiding the pilot onto the target; “left, left steady, right, steady, steady”. The aiming point creeps agonisingly along the graticule to the cross section. “Now”, his thumb presses down hard on the release button, “bombs gone”. Each bomb is felt as it leaves the aircraft, and there is an upward surge as the 4,000lb ‘cookie’ goes along with the green target indicator. The bomb aimer will look through the clear vision panel in the front bomb bay bulkhead to check that all our bombs have gone. The bomb doors close as he climbs back to the cockpit.
16
[page break]
We begin to weave again. Some seconds later the voice of the Master Bomber comes over the RT, “bomb the greens”. The knowledge that we have paved the way for hundreds of tons of bombs is pushed to the back of our minds.
After the confines of concentration on the bomb run I become aware again of what is happening around us. The world is a mad man’s worst nightmare of colour, noise and explosions. The photoflashes dropped with each bomb load create a continuous flicker like summer lightening. Undersides of aircraft reflect the red glow of the firestorm more the three miles below. We seem to hang motionless under a ghostly grey dome of light. Light enough to see the bombs in gaping bomb bays, and see them tumble past from higher aircraft. Bursting shells surrounds us, bursting too rapidly to count. The only sign of progress across the target area is the lazy slipping backward of thinning balls of smoke as the flak ceaselessly hammers at us. After what seems an eternity, but in reality about eight minutes, the flak begins to abate and darkness closes in again as the target slowly falls astern.
The pilot calls up each crewmember in turn checking for casualties. I connect a portable oxygen bottle and walk the length of the fuselage checking for damage; Ron the mid-upper gunner complains that the light from my dimmed torch is reflecting on the Perspex of his turret and attracting night fighters. I reply that if there is a hole in the floor I want to see it before I drop through. On the next op’ he’ll make the same complaint and I will give the same reply, it has become a ritual performed every time we leave the target area.
Regaining my seat I reset engine power to lower our airspeed to 155 knots. This will increase the flying time of our homeward journey but will economise on fuel at our reduced weight.
I soon begin to feel hungry but know if I eat the sickly-sweet Fry’s Chocolate Cream bar I’ll bring it up again in minutes. The small tins of orange or tomato juice are frozen solid; it’s probably just as well with the constant weaving. I will resort to sucking one of the barley sugar sweets I keep in my pocket to get some saliva back into my dry mouth and throat. What would I do for a cigarette?
A burst of tracer stitches its way across the darkness a short distance away on the starboard beam. Seconds later a twinkling star, level with our wingtip, gets bigger and longer like a comet. Some one’s luck has just run out. The small comet becomes a wild blaze and begins to curve downwards, followed by a plume of red as it hits the ground.
Our eyes feel tired and gritty as we peer into the night, the journey endless. There follows hour after hour with no sensation of speed or progress, broken up by taking regular sextant shots from the astrodome for the navigator, and doing constant calculations of fuel consumption to relieve the monotony. In the back of all our minds is the thought that an unseen fighter may have our blip on his radar screen and is creeping up on us from behind and below.
“The coast is coming up,” says the navigator “we can start letting down now”. I reduce the engine power and the altimeter starts to unwind. There is a faint horizon to the east but we will be safely over the sea when day breaks. Below 10,000 feet I turn off the oxygen supply and unclip my mask, which has been chafing for hours. We weave through the coastal flak belt and a measure of safety is reached, skimming at fifty feet above the grey heaving mass of the North Sea.
A line of cliffs appear on the horizon and with a nod the pilot eases the stick back and we clear the cliff top with feet to spare.
17
[page break]
Almost dead ahead, in the early morning light, a solitary figure follows a horse and harrow. Hearing our approach he moves to the horses head to take the bridle, the horse stamping its forelegs and flinging its head high. As we hammer past at little more than hedge height the figure raises an arm. Is it a friendly wave or a clenched fist on behalf of the terrified horse? We will never know, nor will we know how many times he has done that this morning as hundreds of aircraft follow the same track home.
The horizon tilts as we turn onto the final course for base, gain a little height, and the spire of All Saints church, Longstanton, begins to come into view. We join the circuit at 1,200 feet and request permission to land. From the control tower the friendly voice of the duty controller is clear, “hello, O-oboe, you are clear to pancake, runway 040, wind 026, 7 knots”.
On the up wind leg. Pitch fully fine, 25° of flap, fuel boost pumps on, brake pressure ok. We reduce speed and altitude as we turn to port on the cross wind leg. Downwind now, and an airspeed of 135 knots. Wheels down and the two red lights appear on the indicator panel, to be replaced by two greens as the undercarriage locks down. As we enter the funnel at 800 feet, the runway stretching out ahead and below; my stomach registering the rate of descent. At 500 feet the pilot applies full flap and I begin to call out the airspeed and altitude. We cross the boundary hedge at 10 feet and 110 knots. The pilot checks back on the stick to round out as I pull the throttle levers right back to the stops. With a scream and two puffs of smoke from the tyres we are down and rumbling along the runway, the engines popping and muttering quietly until I return them to idle speed as we clear the runway.
We taxi to the dispersal point and the waiting ground crew guides us into position, and with the chocks in place the pilot and I go through the shut- down procedure. As the last propeller comes to a jerky stop a deathly silence descends. We push our flying helmets back off our heads and sit for a few seconds listening to the faint whine of the instrument gyros slowing down. There is a feeling of great weariness, of being totally drained.
The rest of the crew is already out of the aircraft; we join them and light a cigarette, the first drag harsh to the dry throat. Our legs and inner ears trying to adapt to the firm ground again. One of the ground crew, at my shoulder, enquires about damage. He seems to be speaking from twenty feet away, his voice weak and distant after the roar of the last seven hours.
Transport arrives, and after leaving our gear at the locker room we carry on for interrogation. Just inside the room is a smiling WAAF dispensing strong sweet tea, from a large urn; and beside her the padre with a large box of cigarettes and a bottle of rum with which to top up our mugs. While waiting for a table to be vacated I take the opportunity to complete my log by calculating the air and track miles per gallon of fuel. I arrive at the figure 0.9mpg. We occupy a table as a crew leaves and the intelligence officer reaches for a fresh report sheet. We go through the trip from take-off to landing. He needs to record our timing, bombing accuracy and concentration. Enemy defences and fighter opposition. Times and positions of aircraft we witnessed go down. When we can tell him no more we leave and walk slowly to the mess for a meal.
I remember the fresh smell of damp earth and mown grass and the chill breeze on my face after the hours of wearing a stuffy oxygen mask.
In the mess the cheery WAAF’s behind the serving hatch ask us if we had a good trip, we would reply “yes thanks, piece of cake”. If you came back it was always a piece of cake.
18
[page break]
Breakfast was two slices of Spam, a fried egg and lots of dry bread. I always had to force my breakfast down. All I wanted to do was sleep, but I knew that once in bed I wouldn’t be able to for some time. I would lay there unwinding, listening to everyone else restlessly tossing and turning. When sleep did come it wasn’t a gentle drifting away but a sudden cutting off of thoughts and feelings, like a door slamming shut.
Later that same morning, at the Flight Office, we would learn that we were on that night’s order of battle and the butterflies in the stomach would begin their fluttering all over again.
And so it went on Dortmund, Rennes, Aachen, Berlin, Lille, Duisburg, Amien, Hamburg, Kiel, Stuttgart, Emden and many, many more.
[photograph]
I have a vivid memory of our last operation, on September 10th 1944. We had returned from an attack on German positions at Le Havre at 7am, and were on the order of battle to go again that afternoon. Just before take-off we were informed that this was to be our final op’ and we were being stood down.
On our return we approached base in a long shallow dive to beat up the airfield. At 200 knots we thundered along the runway at zero feet to pull up hard at the far end, the g forces pulling down the flesh of our cheeks and the lower lids from our eyes. This manoeuvre was strictly forbidden; but surely everyone must have felt on return from their last op’ the same jubilation and relief as the tension fell away. We had been a crew for a year, had flown 450 hours together and completed 64 operations without a rest period. We had done it, beaten the odds, and joined an exclusive club.
After landing, and a mild rebuke from the tower who must have understood, the grins on the faces of the ground crew were as broad as our own. Our backs were pounded until they were sore; few crews survived that many missions together.
19
[page break]
We celebrated that night with the ground crew at The Hoops Inn at Longstanton. The night was at our expense as a token of our appreciation. It was well worth the two days of hangover.
We had flown Op’s all Summer. I seem to remember many crews adopting a diet of beer, cherries and strawberries, the latter cadged from the land-girl’s at Chiver’s orchards at Histon. This was also the time of the great beer shortage, the only time in the history of England when crews were drinking it faster than it could be brewed. When not flying of course.
These were the days and times of such as Jonnie Denis, James Frazer-Barron, Alan Craig, Brian Frow, Tubby Baker, Ted Pearmaine, Eddie Edwards, Robbie Roberts, Brian Foster, Gerry South, Flash McCullough and so on. Remarkable days and remarkable men, I wonder what became of them.
Great times we had together. We were like brothers sharing our last cigarette or sixpence. Off duty rank meant nothing and we were all on first name terms, but we all knew where to draw the line between respect and over familiarity. Life was one big round of merriment, pranks and youthful high spirits; but once aboard the aircraft we were as sober as judges. Drills and checks were carried out to the letter and nothing ever left to chance. At no time was there idle chatter over the intercom, not even when we were flying for pleasure.
[photograph]
High spirits
Op’s were never discussed at any time during the twelve months we flew together. After an op’ we came out of the interrogation room and that mission was never talked about again, ever. What was there to say? They were all the same, the noise, the fighters, and the flak; and always the cold.
As I sit here, fifty years on, I can remember events clearly but can’t put the name of the target to them; and yet others spring to mind straight away.
Normally the navigator sees nothing outside the aircraft from take-off to landing. On our first German target the pilot called him forward to see what a target looked like. He stood in the cockpit for a few seconds then raised his eyes to the sky in front of us. His only words were “bloody hell”! And my reaction? I distinctly remember thinking, ridiculously; “they are trying to kill us”.
20
[page break]
On one Berlin trip we were forced down by ice from 19,000 feet to 8,000 feet. We had to throw out all the ammunition and any non-essential items to try and lighten the aircraft. Waiting for the order to abandon aircraft, I remember clearly saying quietly “don’t cry Mom when you get the telegram”. Luckily we ran out of the icing area at 8,500 feet and managed to get back to base so late that they had given up on us. I don’t know what I would have said to the crew if my microphone had been switched on at that particular time. I think that was the closest we ever got to meeting our maker.
I think we had been to Berlin when we had to land at the first airfield we came to on the way back. The three engines still running had cut out through lack of fuel ten feet above the runway coming in to West Malling. The aircraft landed very heavily, the undercarriage gave way and we slid along the runway causing serious damage. With our bumps and bruises, we had to return to Mildenhall by train via London. We got some very odd looks in London and on the train as the only clothes we had was our flying gear.
I later discovered that this 746 aircraft Op’ was the last in which Stirlings (which we were flying) were used over Germany.
Leaving Karlsruhe we were attacked by night fighters and during the twisting and turning of evasive action the navigator lost our precise position. After flying on a rough course for some time he found out where we were when we flew alone over Strasbourg and into a heavy barrage of accurate predicted flak. The next morning we went out to the aircraft, and starting at the tail, counted eighty-seven holes between the rear and the mid[1]upper turret before we decided to stop counting. The rest of the aircraft and wings were equally peppered with jagged holes. We had used up a little more luck from our reserve.
I recall one occasion returning from a daylight op’ with a full bomb load and bouncing badly on landing. “Round again” shouted the pilot and I opened the throttles to full power. We roared across the grass at an angle to the runway directly toward the Longstanton church. The pilot coaxed every inch of height from the aircraft as the church loomed closer every second and flashed beneath us with inches to spare. Looking down I saw the villagers scattering. A child standing in the lane staring up at us screaming with fright at our sudden appearance and deafening noise. A woman wearing an apron, running to scoop up the child in her bare arms and racing to safety. Farm animals stampeding in the nearby fields. It all registered on the mind in the second or two we were over the village. After landing the rear gunner said, jokingly, that if we had warned him he could have leaned out of his turret and removed the steeples weather vane as a souvenir.
We once endured the long weary drag of nine hours to Stettin, in Poland. The navigator recording, over the target, an air temperature of minus forty-nine degrees. The inside of our aircraft feeling little warmer. That night must have been the coldest of my life.
We were half heartedly shot at over Sweden. As Sweden was a neutral country it had no need for the blackout suffered by Europe and so I saw for the first time an illuminated city from the air. It looked like a giant dew covered spiders web.
We were coned by searchlights several times and came back with the scars to prove it, the shell splinter holes and the night fighters trade marks.
On a raid to Stuttgart the main door lock broke and the door opened over Germany. It was eventually closed and secured with parachute cord. On return to base we discovered that a couple of incendiaries had failed to release over the target, but as soon as the bomb doors were opened they fell out and immediately burst into flames directly under the aircraft. Our mad scramble to get out of the aircraft was slowed somewhat by the knots in the cord securing the door. The ground crew were quick to push the aircraft away from the fire.
21
[page break]
Another engineer once told me that we were known as the lucky crew, usually last back and rarely on more than three engines. As a marker crew we occasionally had to fly over a target a second time to re-mark it. Fred Phillips was the Deputy Master Bomber on about fifteen sorties, and Master Bomber on three. This meant we had to stay over the target for up to twenty minutes as he directed the raid giving instructions to markers and main force over the radio, this could be picked up by the Nazi direction finding equipment which could then set the night fighters onto us. This was always a very risky time. It helped to be lucky and we seemed to have had more than our fare [sic] share.
A few days after our last op’ we were posted to RAF Backla on the shores of the Moray Firth, from where we were posted our separate ways. We wished each other luck, shook hands and parted, never to meet again.
[photograph]
“The Lucky Crew” RAF Oakington September 1944
Never to meet again.
In late November ’44 I was posted to RAF Nutts Corner, near Belfast. 1332 Heavy Conversion Unit, Transport Command was stationed there and I took a course on York C1 aircraft. Back to the classroom again. After passing the ground school exams I was told that I was to join the permanent staff back on Stirling’s. It appeared that a Stirling had taken off on an exercise and completely vanished with its crew. My operational experience on Stirling’s made me the obvious choice as a replacement engineer. My hopes of travelling the world vanished at the stroke of a pen; I simply had to do as I was ordered.
My new duties were to fly as engineer with a pilot instructor and student pilot who was converting from other types of aircraft, many of them flying boats that didn’t have an undercarriage. A lot of the student pilots were foreign. They were all very enthusiastic and
22
[page break]
eager to convert to Stirling’s, their occasional over enthusiasm and language difficulties made for an interesting time. It was disconcerting to be on the final approach with wheels up and red flares going up like a firework display from the caravan on the threshold. On touching the pilots arm and pointing to the undercarriage selector lever he would grin happily and give a thumbs-up sign, quite prepared to continue his approach and execute the perfect belly landing. The only course of action was for me to open the throttles wide and force an overshoot, then try and impress on him the error of his ways.
My nights and weekends were spent in Belfast with “Tommy” Thompson, “Mac” MacDonald and Roy Baker visiting the Four Hundred Club and the Grand Central Hotel.
Mr and Mrs Cree of Cliftonville Circus invited me to spend Christmas ’44 with them; I was treated like a member of their family. A wonderful thing to do for a lad so far from home at Christmas.
I remember watching an incident involving my pal Roy Baker. A Stirling was coming in to land when a tyre burst, the undercarriage collapsed as the aircraft went into a ground loop at over 100 knots. When it came to a halt all the crew emerged from various escape hatches except Roy, the engineer. He was still inside diligently carrying out his emergency drill, turning fuel cocks off, electric’s off, closing engine cooling grills etc. He finally emerged with a self-satisfied look on his face, then realised that both wings had been torn off, complete with engines and fuel tanks, and were at least quarter of a mile away. He was cheered when he later entered the mess.
Nothing ever eclipsed the beauty of Northern Ireland from the air, with it’s patchwork of fields of brown and straw yellow and the most brilliant green, it looked truly beautiful.
A few weeks later the unit moved to RAF Riccall, just south of York. The ageing Stirling’s were taken out of service and replaced with, American built, Consolidated Liberators. These were the last aircraft I flew in as engineer. I was taken off flying duties and made Adjutant of the Flight Engineers Ground School. Of my service in the Royal Air Force this was the job I had least enthusiasm for, sitting behind a deck [sic].
[photograph]
Tom & Ivy Jones 1946
Whilst at Riccall I met Ivy Ridsdale, a Yorkshire lass, at Christie’s Dance Hall in Selby. We would be married in February ’46
In November the unit moved to RAF Dishforth, which meant a seventy mile round trip on a bicycle to visit Ivy at her home in Hambleton, near Selby.
23
[page break]
After an interview at Group Headquarters in York I received my final posting to RAF Bramcote. On arrival I was made Station Armaments Officer. Another desk job.
Eventually I was sent to RAF Uxbridge. After a brief medical and signing a few papers I stood holding a cardboard box containing a suit and hat. My four years service with the RAF Volunteer Reserve was at an end. I have never regretted it. I learned a lot and did things I would never have had the opportunity to do in civilian life. Overall, I enjoyed it thoroughly. I have not met again or heard from any of the crew I flew with on Op.’s, perhaps none of them survived the rest of the war. I would love to know if they did, but to meet them again? I think not. I didn’t fly with a group of men in the autumn of their years; they must remain young as I remember them then. Besides, time and people change, we might not even like each other now.
At briefings the aiming point had always been designated as factories, oil installations, docks, railway yards and the like. Residential areas near the targets were never mentioned, but they were there; and the thousands of people who lived in them. The fact that we were personally responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocent civilians has lived with us all our lives.
Some unfortunates, through no fault of their own, reached the point where they could no longer carry on. Irrespective of how many Op.’s they had completed they were deemed lacking in moral fibre. I never knew or heard of any member of aircrew that had anything but sympathy to them.
I remember some of the lads who had a tough time. The empty sleeves, and trouser legs of the amputees. There were lads with no faces. Noses and ears no more than shrivelled buttons, and heavy newly grafted eyelids. Their mouths little more than a slit in a face rebuilt with shining tightly stretched skin grafts. Some had hands shrivelled and clawed like eagle’s talons. They sought no sympathy or favours but carried on doing a job they could manage. When they went drinking with us their laughter was as hearty as ever, their spirit unbroken and no sign of bitterness.
I have tried to put to the back of my mind the countless times I saw aircraft shot down and the lives of their young crew snuffed out in agonising seconds. But try as I might the images remain as graphic as if it only happened last year.
As a crew we were detailed to attend the burials of crew that had got back to base, only to crash on landing. A cruel fate, so near yet so far. After the service in the village cemetery, we saluted each open grave in turn. I cannot count the number of times we did this.
What made us do it time after time? Was it patriotism? Was it the pride in volunteering being greater than the butterflies in the stomach? Was it the fear of letting down the crew, or of the life long stigma of lacking in moral fibre? Perhaps it was one or all of these. Who knows? And what do I have to show for it? My discharge papers and identity discs, my flying log book, a few medal ribbons and a thousand memories.
24
[page break]
[photograph]
Letter from George VI
[photograph]
Tom and Ivy Jones 2002 and Distinguished Flying Cross
[photograph]
Thomas John Jones DFC
April 19th 1921 – January 28th 2004
Epilogue
My sweet short life is over, my eyes no longer see,
No country walks, or Christmas trees, no pretty girls for me,
I’ve got the chop, I’ve had it, my nightly op’s are done.
But in a hundred years I’ll still be twenty-one.
R. W. Gilbert
One of Dad’s favourite poems.
25
[page break]
Decorations
24/12/43 PHILLIPS, Frederick Augustus, PO (Aus409939) RAAF 622sqn This officer has taken part in several sorties and has displayed a high degree of skill and determination. One night in Nov 1943, he piloted an aircraft detailed to attack Ludwigshafen. Whilst over the target area his aircraft was hit by shrapnel. The petrol tanks were damaged and the petrol supply could not be regulated. Nevertheless, PO Phillips by skilfully using the engines, flew the aircraft back to this country. Some nights later, whilst over Berlin, one engine of his aircraft became u/s. On return flight considerable hight [sic] was lost and ammunition was jettisoned in an effort to lighten the aircraft.. In the face of heavy odds, PO Phillips succeeded in reaching base. This officer has displayed great keenness and devotion to duty.
Awarded DFC.
14/11/44 PHILLIPS, Frederick Augustus. Flt Lt (Aus409939) RAAF 7sqn Flight Lieutenant Phillips has a splendid record of operations. At all times he has set a fine example of leadership, coolness and unfailing devotion to duty which has been a source of inspiration to the squadron.
This officer has consistently displayed fine flying spirit and cheerful determination in the face of the most adverse circumstances.
Awarder Bar to the DFC Lon Gaz 14/11/44
14/11/44 NAYLOR, Joseph William 1817796 Flight Sergeant, No 7 sqn Air Gunner.
FS Naylor has completed 53 operational sorties, including 44 with the Pathfinder Force of which 34 have been as marker. This NCO is a rear gunner in a marker crew which has carried out extremely successful day and night sorties with this squadron and has proved himself to be an exceptionally good aircrew member. Throughout his career, he has shown courage and tenacity of a high order and in the face of danger has displayed outstanding fearlessness.
Awarded DFM Lon Gaz 14/11/44
Flt. Lt. GOODWIN, David Graham, Lon Gaz 14/11/44 awarded DFC
F.O JONES, Thomas John, Lon Gaz 12/12/44 awarded DFC
F.O. THURSTON, Harry Clive Edgar, Lon Gaz 14/11/44 awarded DFC
F.O. WILLIAMSON Stanley, Lon Gaz 14/11/44 awarded DFC
P.O. WYNNE, Ronald, Lon Gaz 12/12/44 awarded DFC
26
[page break]
I can’t actually put a time or place on my earliest recollection of my father; I do have a lot of pleasant early memories. Cycle rides with me sitting on a seat on Dad’s crossbar. Trips on steam trains to see my Nan in Birmingham, which would include a visit to Dudley zoo. Days out in York with a look in Precious’s toy shop, which usually resulted in a new car or truck to add to my ever growing collection.
I recall that Dad was always at work. When I was small he worked as an engineer at Rostron’s Paper Mill in Selby. There he regularly worked six and a half days a week, cycling to work in all weathers.
He always had time for me though, and would spend hours with me reading the likes of Treasure Island, Gulliver’s Travels, Moby Dick and Black Beauty. He would also make me things, like my railway layout with its tunnels and buildings.
When I went to school, he would help me with my homework. I can still remember all about the Kenyan coffee trade, thanks to him. He also sent [sic] hours, in vain, trying to teach me to draw, sadly his artistic genes where ]sic] not passed down to me.
He had endless patience, and would never ever cut corners on any job or project he tackled. Maybe that was thanks to his RAF training.
He was a very skilled engineer and model maker, producing scale working models of stationary steam engines and balsa wood models of aircraft. His last project was of a Hawker Hurricane, with a three foot wingspan, which he gave to the boy who lived next door.
[photograph]
Fully working twin cylinder stationary steam engine made by Dad in the 1970s
27
[page break]
When he retired he turned his hand to art producing many beautifully detailed sketches and water colours.
[drawing]
Lioness, sketched by Dad in May 1979
One of his other passions, after he retired, was taking long walks with his dog accompanied by his three friends. My Mother used to refer to them as “Last of the Summer Wine” after the TV program of the same name.
Dad was a very generous man. My mother told me an amusing story of Dad buying her two bunches of flowers, but only giving her one bunch. It transpired that he had gone into the local chemists, where the girl behind the counter had commented how pretty the flowers were. So Dad being Dad, gave her one of the bunches.
Dad’s health started to decline when he was in his late seventies, which curtailed his walks, but he remained active at home, spending hours in his shed.
Sadly he died on the very snowy night of January 28th 2004 from lung cancer.
There are so many things I wish I had said to him when he was alive, and now so many questions I would like to ask.
And what of the other crew members?
I managed to get a copy of Fred Phillips’ service record from the RAAF in Canberra. It revealed that he returned to Australia after the war and was de[1]mobbed in March 1946. He moved to Centennial Park, Sydney and joined Qantas Empire Airways as a first officer. I learned from Keith Perry, who had been a friend of Freddy’s in the 40’s that he became the senior training captain
28
with Qantas in the 60’s. Then out of the blue I received an e-mail from Eric Petersen, a pilot with Qantas. He was a friend of Fred Phillips and had been showing him around the internet search engine Google. Somehow they came upon my late father’s entry on www.worldwar2exraf.co.uk. I had put him on the website shortly after his death, along with the rest of the crew, in the hope that someone might remember them and contact me via a link.
It was incredible to find Fred Phillips was alive and well. Sadly his wife, Hazel, had recently died. He lives in North Richmond New South Wales, and has two daughters and numerous grandchildren.
Fred was able to tell me that, sadly, “Thirsty” Thurston and Dave Goodwin had both died some time ago in their native New Zealand. After the war Dave Goodwin vowed never to fly again. Fred was still in touch with Frank Shaw, who had been the O/C electrics, instruments and bomb loading at Oakington. Frank can be seen second from the left on the cover picture.
Stan Williamson remains elusive. I have contacted the Australian Pathfinders Association, but no information about him has yet surfaced. I also have a friend, Air Commodore “Blue” Connolly RAAF, searching for him in Australia.
An article, about the crew, in the Melton Times newspaper produced a number of telephone calls. One was from “John” Naylor’s wife, and another from his 92 year old sister. On seeing one of the pictures of the crew his sister commented that she “never knew her brother smoked”. Sadly “John” had died two years previously.
He had returned to Wymondham after the war and became a conductor with Barton’s Bus Company in Melton Mowbray. He eventually married his sweetheart Constance and moved to Ab Kettleby where he eventually became a tree surgeon. His business thrives today, safe in the hands of his son.
I tried a similar article in the Manchester Evening News, in an effort to get any information on Ron Wynne. The day after the story ran I got an e-mail from a Barry Wynne, saying that his father Ron Wynne was alive and well and living near Stockport, Cheshire. Barry also said that his Father would like to speak to me.
That weekend I rang Ron Wynne, it was quite an emotional moment for both of us. Ron took a few seconds to compose himself, then started telling me what he had done after the war. There were also bits of information about Steve Harper too.
Unfortunately, I think Mr. Wynne has had second thoughts about meeting or writing to me. This I can understand, it must have been quite a shock to hear from the son of someone he had last seen sixty years ago, and I may have stirred long dormant sad memories.
So what of Steve Harper? He had joined “The Lucky Crew” in April or May ’44 after an incident which had killed most of his previous crew. It would appear his aircraft had been shot down by a German fighter as it made its approach to RAF Oakington. Steve became the crew’s specialist map reader and took over as Bomb Aimer. “Thirsty” became their radar operator and second navigator.
29
[page break]
Sadly Steve was seriously wounded in the chest by shrapnel on his second operation after leaving “The Lucky Crew”. He survived but I cannot find out any more about him.
These eight men were not the bravest of the brave, but they were the personification of bomber crews in their day. They did their job, and did it very well. They were 100% professional, and must have been a shining example to junior crews.
Finding Dad’s memoir has made me start looking at his generation in a slightly different light. I have always respected these people, but now I look at men and women of his age and wonder what they did all those years ago, what did they have to endure, and what memories are securely locked away.
I attended the 7 Squadron Association reunion in April 2005, in an attempt to find out more about the squadron in ‘43/’44 and about the crews. I met some wonderful people there, but sadly the number of veterans attending is dwindling fast.
I also attended the Association memorial service at Longstanton Village Hall in November 2005. I had never been to Longstanton before and as I drove down the narrow country road which links the village with the A14 I got my first glimpse of the steeple of All Saints church. A shiver ran down my spine when I realized that I was looking at the steeple that Dad’s aircraft narrowly missed in 1944.
After the very moving memorial service, in the village hall, I braved the cold driving rain to have a look inside All Saints church. Sadly the church is closed due to a major structural problem with the ceiling, which will cost tens of thousands of pounds to repair.
All Saints church is the “spiritual home” of 7 Squadron. Many graves of crew who perished can be found in the peaceful leafy churchyard, and inside is the magnificent squadron memorial window and squadron standard.
The dreadful weather, that day, prevented me from exploring the village further. But I shall return and walk in my late father’s footsteps around the village. Sadly a pint in The Hoops, where the crew celebrated in 1944, is out of the question as it closed in the 1970’s.
In his memoir, Dad remembered clearly a young blonde girl who would wave to the crews as they taxied before taking off on raids from RAF Oakington. With the help of people in Longstanton I managed to find out a little about the girl. Her name was Marion (she would have been 6 or 7 at the time) and lived in a farm cottage close to the perimeter track of RAF Oakington, with her parents Hubert and Clara Dogget and her brother Donald. Sadly Marion had died in 1998.
In September 2014 I made another breakthrough in my research into the crew. I had posted the photograph of them messing around in the first floor window on The International Bomber Command Centre Facebook page. The photograph was spotted by a chap in Australia who posted the following comment, “OMG that’s my grand dad!”. It was from “Thirsty” Thurston’s grandson Greg. Over a number of e-mails he told me that after the war Clive Thurston returned to New Zealand and became a station master. He married his sweetheart
30
[page break]
Colleen and they went on to have seven children. By the time of his death in 1984 they had twenty two grandchildren, and 30 great grandchildren. Dave Goodwin also returned to New Zealand and became an electrical retailer. He also vowed never to fly again. It appears that Dave stuck to his word and traveled [sic] by sea on his frequent visits to Australia..
I was deeply saddened to learn that Fred Philip had died in Sydney on October 4th 2016.
My search continues.
People like “The Lucky Crew” must never be forgotten, it’s because of them that we can enjoy our freedom. We must also remember the ultimate price paid by 55,573 members of Bomber Command during WWII.
If it were not for these crews the war would have dragged on longer, and who can guess at the outcome.
31
[page break]
[photograph]
All Saints Church,
Longstanton, Cambridgeshire.
32
[page break]
[photograph]
7 Squadron memorial window,
All Saints Church,
Longstanton, Cambridgeshire
33
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The lucky crew
Description
An account of the resource
Memoir including photographs of the crew and aircraft. Thomas Jones was a flight engineer on Stirling and Lancaster and completed 64 operations on two tours. Describes early life, joining the RAF, selection and training., crewing up and first posting to 622 Squadron flying Stirling at RAF Mildenhall in September 1943. Gives account of activities and operations on first tour. Squadron converted to Lancaster and he was then posted to 7 Squadron at RAF Oakington. On completion of second tour went to 1332 Heavy Conversion Unit Transport Command near Belfast, Norther Ireland. Lists crew with decorations which is followed by account by his son Peter Jones.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
T J and P W Jones
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Thirty-three page printed document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Text. Personal research
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BJonesTJJonesPWv1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Air Force. Transport Command
Royal Australian Air Force
Royal New Zealand Air Force
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending review
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Suffolk
England--Lancashire
England--Bedfordshire
Wales--Vale of Glamorgan
England--Shropshire
England--Suffolk
Atlantic Ocean--Skagerrak
Germany
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Ludwigshafen am Rhein
Germany--Schweinfurt
England--Huntingdonshire
Germany--Dortmund
France
France--Rennes
Germany--Aachen
France--Lille
Germany--Duisburg
France--Amiens
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Emden (Lower Saxony)
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
France--Le Havre
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
1942-09-17
1943-04
1943-07
1943-08-29
1943-11
1944-09-10
1944-11
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Steve Baldwin
1657 HCU
622 Squadron
7 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bomb aimer
bombing
crewing up
Distinguished Flying Cross
flight engineer
ground personnel
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
military living conditions
mine laying
navigator
Oboe
Pathfinders
pilot
RAF Cardington
RAF Cosford
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Oakington
RAF Padgate
RAF St Athan
RAF Stradishall
RAF Warboys
searchlight
Spitfire
Stirling
training
wireless operator
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/563/30565/MEdwardsAE2202190-161024-02.1.pdf
7dfb03f98dec5e4c851be8133025505d
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
Edwards, Allan Ernest
A E Edwards
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Edwards, AE
Description
An account of the resource
Six items. Collection concerns Warrant Officer Ernest Allan Edwards (b. 1924, Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a flight engineer with 514, 7 and 582 Squadrons. Collection contains an oral history interview, biography, list of 42 operations and photographs of aircraft and people.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Ernest Allan Edwards and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-10-24
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.
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 notes
Description
An account of the resource
Lists 42 operations with dates, targets, aircraft, fuel, bomb loads, times and accounts of sortie for each one. Mentions Pathfinder marking, occasional air sickness, Master Bomber, number of aircraft lost on some operations, damage to aircraft on a few sorties and other details.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
A E Edwards
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Cover and seven page printed document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MEdwardsAE2202190-161024-01
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
France
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Germany--Braunschweig
Germany--Magdeburg
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Augsburg
Germany--Stuttgart
France--Lille
France--Laon
France--Paris
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Karlsruhe
France--Nantes
Belgium
Belgium--Louvain
France
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Aachen
France--Dunkerque
France--Calais
France--Rennes
France--Tours
France--Lens
France--Saint-Omer (Pas-de-Calais)
France--Nucourt
France--Abbeville
France--Vaires-sur-Marne
France--L'Isle-Adam
France--Neufchâtel-en-Bray
France--Creil
France--Le Havre
France--Brest
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Germany--Kiel
Poland
Poland--Szczecin
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-01-14
1944-01-21
1944-01-27
1944-02-25
1944-03-01
1944-04-11
1944-04-18
1944-04-22
1944-04-24
1944-05-11
1944-05-19
1944-05-21
1944-05-25
1944-05-28
1944-05-31
1944-06-04
1944-06-07
1944-06-10
1944-06-11
1944-06-15
1944-07-02
1944-07-05
1944-07-09
1944-07-10
1944-07-11
1944-07-15
1944-07-16
1944-07-18
1944-07-19
1944-07-23
1944-07-24
1944-07-27
1944-08-03
1944-08-04
1944-08-03
1944-08-07
1944-08-25
1944-08-26
1944-08-29
1944-09-09
1944-09-11
1944-09-19
1945-01-31
1944-04-19
1944-08-08
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.
514 Squadron
582 Squadron
7 Squadron
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
bombing of the Juvisy, Noisy-le-Sec and Le Bourget railways (18/19 April 1944)
Bombing of Trossy St Maximin (3 August 1944)
flight engineer
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Mk 2
Lancaster Mk 3
Martinet
Master Bomber
missing in action
navigator
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operational Training Unit
Pathfinders
pilot
RAF Little Staughton
RAF Warboys
RAF Waterbeach
tactical support for Normandy troops
training
V-1
V-weapon
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1088/19915/MRamseyNGC19191216-170217-010001.2.jpg
96fce692965c789b70c41b567e4bed62
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1088/19915/MRamseyNGC19191216-170217-010002.2.jpg
f9d0ecabf754e2a6eb6fb5d9143a9329
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
Ramsey, Neil
Neil Gordon Creswell Ramsey
N G C Ramsey
Description
An account of the resource
Five items. An oral history interview with Flight Lieutenant Neil Ramsey DFC (b. 1919, Royal Air Force), two cartoons and two memoirs. He flew operations with 105 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Neil and Susan Ramsey 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
2016-07-03
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
Ramsey, NGC
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[inserted] PLEASE RETURN TO:- [/inserted]
N.G.C. RAMSEY, D.F.C., [underlined] People I remember at Defford. [/underlined]
[inserted] ENC. 4. [/inserted]
Firstly the party at the Rose and Crown, Severn Stoke, March 8th I944: I too have a copy of the cartoon by Budd – He was a N.C.O. aircrew member who did numerous cartoons of members of “A” Flight, including Peter and myself. I was depicted a a [sic] “shooting man” in plus-fours with F/Lt sripes [sic] on the shoulder. He always signed himself Budd and I can’t remebre [sic] his name unless it was Burton (see under) Fortunately I got those attending to sign the back of the photoed [sic] cartoon and can give the names as follows: S/Ldr. Ronnie Smith D.F.C., L. Hopkins, W. Scullard, J.R. Crawford, Duncan Chisholm, - M. Darcy, Ron Leavers, J. Millar, Fred Carmichael, - Burton and N.G.C. Ramsey.
Talking of shooting and Tony (not Jimmy) Meade, he and I were shotting companions and on one occasion went shooting rabbits on Bredon with the F/Sgt i/c “A” Flight groundcrew – his name escapes me although I can still picture him, he lived out on a farm on Bredon, hence the shooting there.
Boffins: Boffin Bruce who never wore socks, a real eccentric. Mr Fry who had been in some sort of explosion and was disfigured. There was also a young Scot. I think working on Monica who could not ride a bike. Our geat [sic] delight was to put him on one and give him a push, he immediately fell off.
Ronnie Smith did take a Lanc under the railway bridge over the Severn, I remember the mid-upper was Dunc. Chisholm who arrived back somewhat shocked. It was after a lunchtime session at the pub on the main road we used to cross on our way from Upton on Severn to Dafford. [sic] Dunc. Chisholm once took over the drums at a dance in Tewkesbury – he was superb – and told us he had once played with Fats Waller. He was as you say Canadian. By the way the session at the pub was brought about by a complete clampdown (fog) and a Met. report giving no hope of a clearance. We arrived back at camp to find a complete clearance and a Lanc. to fly. Give Ronnie his due he took it himself rather than drop someone else in.
There was an Oboe re-union at the R.A.F. Club in I983 it was attended by Dr. F. E. Jones and John Hooper who organised it. There is to be another one on 22nd March, I993 again organised by John E.N. Hooper, 8, Meadow Close, Hinchley Wood, Esher, KT10 0AY. I see Dr Jones is not listed as attending so I presume he has died meantime. Others attending from HQ/AM/TRE are listed as E.L.T. Barton, AVM Sid Bufton, Sir Clifford Cornford, Sir Edward Fennesay, O.G. Williams and of course John Hooper. These name [sic] may be of interest to some of you.
I will now list others I remeber [sic] or have knowledge of:
[underlined] Gp. Capt. J.A. Macdonald. [/underlined] I last met him when I was Senior Ops. Controller at (1950) Transport Command H.Q. I had to see in Royal Flights and he was then Commandant of London Airport. An amusing episode occurred at “A” Flight offices when, one day, Wg. Cdr. Johnny Claydon was working under my car fitting big-end bearings. Groupie arrived and shouted come out from under that car, imagine his surprise to find not an erk (a heinous offence) but the Cg. Cdr. Flying. All he said was “Oh it’s you Johnny”.
Lt. Cdr. Millward last heard of a senior executive of BEA in the early fifties.
Wg. Cdr. Jackson, a boffin in uniform, maybe a liason [sic] officer. He had an office close to “A” flight and was reputed to be the owner of The News of the World and a friend of Churchill.
Wg. Cdr Johnny Claydon, was the son of a garage proprietor at Deal, hence the episode above, given his expertise.
Flt. Lt. Brian Smithers usec [sic] to play Chopin’s No. 1 Piano concerto at the same time as the recording by Rubinstein. I last met him in a night club in Athens. The band were on strike and Brian, then a Captain with BOAC (I945) was still playing the same piece. I recognised it from the bar, went over to the pianist and it was Brian.
Moore: There were two Moores, the first must have left soon after I got to Defford since my wife and I took over his quarters in Upton. Was it “Dinty”?
[page break]
Lawrence Moore.
He was a very keen bridge player.
S/Ldr. Vernon Motion, a real smoothie in the Offensive Section. Reputed to be a stockbroker, lived out in Tewkesbury.
F/O Jimmy Duff – Second i/c Armoury drove a smart SS 100
F/Lt Jack Etchells – believed related to one of the chiefs at Dunlop – drove a I939 drophead coupe M.G. Jack was by way of being a friend of mine and I would like to hear what became of him. We made up a foursome of car owners, Johnny Claydon, 2 1/2 litre SS, Ronnie Smith, Drophead Coupe Humber, Jack M.G. and myself Daimler Light I5.
One of the Navs. was named Tait, with connections to my home town, Boston. I think he has a DGM (escaper?) or maybe Army co-op, on second thoughts.
The Signals officer whose name eludes me drove a Singer Le Mans Coupe.
Sdn. Ldr. Randall was, I think more specialised.
I recently met:
Ted (Tony) Barton who was definitely there when we were, he was I gather, a M.T. fitter. He now owns a fleet of coaches in Sleaford, Lincs. I did not know him at Defford; but we compared notes at a recent birthday party.
Vic. Haley M.N. (escaper) and Taffy Bidder [brackets] Were both killed in a Mosquito, nightflying [sic] at the PFF Conversion Flight at Warboys. They were going on to OBOE on either 105 or 108. I went through Warboys just afterwrds [sic] on my way to 105 Sqn. [/brackets]
Canadians –
F/O Ed. Higgins, married a WAAF officer in Tewkesbury Abbey and last heard of they were living in Toronto. Ed used to go home with me to Boston and on visiting new friends he recognised a picture of Boston “Stump”. The other couple had emigrated and they wrote back to their parents. Ed, in fact, knew the girl’s father whom he had met with me at the local farmer’s club.
Bourassa (not, I Think, Bourgasser) was a French Canadian.
Flying Officer Johnny Turnbull married Flight Off. Joan Turnbull.
Another WAAF Officer (from Tunbridge Wells area) was Pam Turnbull, she was the Cypher Officer and I remember that she, Johnny Clayden and I visited the cinema on the eve of “D” Day. They knew it was on, I discovered afterwards.
I do remember the other names in the letters received from Peter; but unfortunately my log book is missing so I have to rely on my failing memory.
I must add a word about Griff. He was reuted [sic] to have been a Trawler Skipper before the war and his SSC. In any event he was a very keen and remarkable sailor. After the war all Commands had a prize yacht, liberated from the German Baltic fleet. I did my first trip with Griff when I was a T.C. H.Q. and he taught me to sail. In I952 I navigated “Sea Lion” in the Cowes-Dinard R.A.R.C. race and we won “A” Div. of Class 1 (The big boys). The following year I was posted to Abingdon a few days before the race. I reported to H.Q. to see the Group Captain (Griff, of course). The Adjt. said the Gp. Capt. never sees new arrivals; but I persuaded him to tell Griff. He rushed out of the office and said “what the hell are you doing here, Neil, you should be preparing for the I953 race” I said I thought it not a good idea to start on a new Squadron by disapearing [sic] and he said “Character building sports take precedence over flying any day. However I persuaded him that my new Squadron Commander might have different views. A really great chap Griff.
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
People I remember at Defford
Description
An account of the resource
An article written by Neil Ramsey referring to a cartoon drawn by 'Budd'. He details the social life and personalities on the base including Ronnie Smith who flew a Lancaster under a Severn railway bridge. Reference is made of an Oboe reunion in 1983. He lists a few of the attendees.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Neil Ramsey
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Neil Ramsey
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two typewritten sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MRamseyNGC19191216-170217-010001,
MRamseyNGC19191216-170217-010002
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--Severn Bridge (Railroad bridge)
Greece--Athens
England--Boston
Canada
Ontario--Toronto
Ontario
Greece
England--Lincolnshire
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.
1944-03-08
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
aircrew
arts and crafts
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
Distinguished Flying Cross
entertainment
ground personnel
Lancaster
Mosquito
Oboe
Pathfinders
radar
RAF Abingdon
RAF Defford
RAF Warboys
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/861/17867/BHarrisonJSHarrisonJSv10001.2.jpg
c746830ffbfb3633e59f8b918732b3a4
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/861/17867/BHarrisonJSHarrisonJSv10002.2.jpg
a954069ef919c66c9935c7a0e0d03036
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
Harrison, Joe
Joe S Harrison
J S Harrison
Description
An account of the resource
26 items. The collection concerns Joe Harrison DFC (646488 Royal Air Force) and contains a brief memoir, documents, photographs and memorabilia. It also includes copies of The Marker, the Pathfinder Association magazine.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Joe Harrison 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
2015-09-11
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. 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
Harrison, JS
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Ops are on. Maximum effort.
September 27th, 1943. 156 Squadron Path Finder Force, Warboy’s, [sic] Huntington. All aircrew on duty to be at briefing at 1400 hrs, meals 1440 hrs, and take off 1545hrs. In the briefing room, all crews were now assembled, awaiting the entrance of the Station and Squadron flight commanders.
On their entry, we all stood, and were told “Sit down gentleman.”
The Station commander stood at the small raised platform, and drew the curtain covering the target, opening the briefing with the words, “The targets tonight are the factories and railway yards in Brunswick, Germany.” We all looked at the target, with me and other gunners taking note of where the fighter attacks en route would likely take place. Specialists took over the briefing, showing the routes into, and away from the targets. The route, into and out of the target being marked by the ac-tual routes shown from base, to the target, and return, with dog legs shown. These route briefings showed where the main searchlight and gun batteries were to be encountered, with known enemy fighter stations marked, and followed with details of how the actual marking of the target would be undertaken, firstly by primary marking crews, dropping red target indicators, with backers up drop-ping green and or yellow markers. Our role in this attack was as a supporter to the primary marker crews, to try and draw the night fighters, and flak away from them as they marked the aiming points for main force to hit, carrying only some markers, and bombs.
After the main briefing, the pilots and navigators, and nav/bomb aimers attended separate briefings, with the wireless operators, flight engineers and gunners being briefed by our various leaders.
We were all given a hefty meal of eggs and bacon, and went to our hut for a lie down, and maybe a short nap. O.k. boy’s wakey-wakey, and it is off to our lockers to get dressed in our flying kit. I had an electrically heated suit to wriggle into, and then into my other flying clothes, with wool lined boots, warm jacket, and then parachute harness, topped off with my helmet, goggles, and fur lined gloves. Contrary to some reports my gloves were not heated. Fully dressed at last, with some ribald com-ments as one tried to make oneself comfortable in certain places. All dressed, and it is pick up your parachutes, and, for me, a shuffle to the outside and all to get picked up by the crew bus, with some other crews, and taken to dispersal.
Arriving at our aircraft, it was with a few catcalls aimed at the other crews on the bus, such as “Don’t get lost”, or “Make sure that heap of yours gets you there and back”
Before take-off, Bob our pilot chatted to us all as we stood at the base of the ladder before climbing on board “Y: Yorker our Lancaster bomber. We had all had a look into the bomb bay, and had seen our 4000lb bomb, and others all neatly arrayed side by side, waiting for the doors to be closed. He stressed to us that we relied on each other, and to put into practice the tactical planning we had done together.
This was our first crossing into Germany, and as it was our very first op., and never having been on operations before joining Pathfinders! It was with a sense of apprehension that we approached the target area. The area was swarming with enemy fighters, and the flak was intense. Fighters were pick-ing out their targets, and I saw a fighter converging onto our tail.
“Rear gunner to skipper, fighter coming in on our port side, dive port GO!” Cannon shells hit our air-craft, and I opened up on him with my guns. He veered away, and I shouted to Monty, our mid-upper gunner, “Breaking to starboard Monty” and he opened up with his guns as the fighter climbed away. He soon had another target, as a Lancaster careened to earth as a flaming ball of fire, a short distance away.
Lancaster’s were being shot down very close to us, and in my rear turret I was keeping up a barrage of gun fire to try and keep the fighters away, with the mid-upper joining in when the fighters entered his area of control. I could not believe my eyes, as I saw so many of our aircraft shot down, and thought “what have we let ourselves into?” We were hit many times with cannon shells, and our aircraft was badly damaged. The cannon shells hitting our aircraft sounded like a lot of thumps and bangs, and I was flung about in my turret as I called to Bob to dive, or corkscrew, and at times was standing up in my turret, and trying to get sight on a fighter as it climbed towards us. Spraying the area he was fly-ing into.
[page break]
During a brief lull, Bob called each member of the crew to ascertain if they were o.k. sending Mick, our wireless operator down the fuselage to assess the damage, and to see if I was o.k. He said I had sounded funny on the intercom, and Mick discovered that my oxygen hose had been severed. Bob dropped us down to about 12000 ft, and I was soon feeling better. Fortunately we were in a lull, and were soon heading for home.
Searchlights had been constantly searching the sky looking for us and other bombers, and all in all it seemed so unreal. There was considerable damage done to us from the fighter and ack ack guns, and on landing back at base we all realized [sic] how lucky we had been. The cannon shells had luckily missed our vital controls, but my turret doors were peppered with shrapnel pieces, and the side pan-els were damaged. The tail units were holed in a few places with canon shells. One stream of shells had ripped through the aircraft missing the Mid-upper turret by inches, causing the mid-upper to comment that he was obviously the target, being so important! Luckily the shells had not exploded, going straight through.
Landing back at base, and getting to our dispersal point, we managed to force the damaged rear door open, with the help of ground staff, to enable us to get out. Engines off, and repairs were under way almost immediately.
I was at a loss as to why we had been hit so many times by fighter cannon shells, and wondered whether our tactics were working, and where I had gone wrong. Talking things over with the crew, after we were through interrogation, it emerged that maybe we gunners were opening fire too late on the enemy, through trying to get them in our sights, as this was extremely difficult, especially with the target aircraft being so small, and their speed, and darkness, and with our aircraft twisting and diving as I called the skipper to take evasive action. The next day, we all got together in our room, to discuss what had happened during this our first operation. Studying our graphs, Bob and I devised a new tactic of spraying the area the fighter would fly into, and hoping for more hits on the enemy. The enemy fighters with fixed guns had to fly straight and level to get us in their sights that made them such a small target for our guns. The rest of the crew went through their various recollections of what had happened, and it was with renewed spirits that we looked at each other, and were indeed a crew. On the 7th of October I was admitted to Ely hospital suffering from the after effects of bruises, and lack of oxygen. I had found it painful to take deep breaths, and was quite sore bodily. I should have reported sick earlier on, but as bad weather set in, we were attending lectures etc. I spent from the 7th of October, until the 2nd of November 1943 in hospital recovering.
Bob had insisted with the Squadron commander that he would not accept another permanent rear gunner take my place, but would wait my return from hospital.
On my discharge from hospital, I was pronounced fit to fly, and I re-joined my crew on November the 2nd. 1943.
I spent a couple of hours that afternoon checking, and sitting in my turret and getting the feel of things again, as I admit I was feeling quite nervous. “Y” Yorker had been extensively repaired, and had been air tested the day before my return. My crew had done a few sorties during my absence with different rear-gunners, on different aircraft, causing me a lot of anxiety, and were all delighted at my return, bantering me and accusing me of sneaking off for a holiday, and deserting the crew, with the stern admonishment from Fred, the nav/bomb aimer, that a repeat would not be tolerated.
We are on ops. on November the 3rd. 1943. But that is another story. Cologne was the target.
The crew comprised of,
Pilot. Sgt Mclean, Navigator, P.O. Hunting. Nav/Bomb aimer, Sgt Whybrow. Flight Engineer Sgt Burn. Wireless Operator, Sgt Wenham. Mid-upper gunner Sgt Mortimer. Rear Gunner, Sgt Harrison.
Copy right. Joseph Stanley Harrison D.F.C. Lo Honour.
[signature of Joseph Harrison, DFC. LoH]
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
Ops are on. Maximum effort
Description
An account of the resource
A memoir by Joe Harrison of his first operation in 1943. He describes the initial briefing, the events during the bombing run, the damage to their aircraft and his subsequent illness. Includes descriptions of the post-op analysis and good crew relationship.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Joe Harrison
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943-09-27
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two typewritten sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BHarrisonJSHarrisonJSv10001,
BHarrisonJSHarrisonJSv10002
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
Germany
England--Cambridgeshire
Germany--Braunschweig
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.
1943-09-27
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Alan Pinchbeck
156 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
briefing
Distinguished Flying Cross
Lancaster
military ethos
military service conditions
Pathfinders
RAF Warboys
target indicator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/295/3609/BWallerTWallerTv1.1.pdf
cd2cdd3683f81e91523da9c0cbc4fe91
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
Waller, Tom
Tom Waller
T Waller
Description
An account of the resource
Four items. An oral history interview with Corporal Thomas Waller (- 2018, 1096366 Royal Air Force) a memoir and photographs. Tom Waller was a fitter/armourer with 138, 109 and 156 Squadrons and served at RAF Stradisall, RAF Wyton, RAF Warboys, and RAF Upward.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Thomas Waller 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
2015-10-27
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
Waller, T
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
THE WAR MEMOIRS OF 1096366 Cpl. T. WALLER MID
[black and white photo of a young man in uniform]
15-5-1941 to 15-6-1946
[page break]
In March 1936, my family moved from Hull to West Leyes Road in Swanland where we lived at West Lodge which had formed part of Reckit's [sic] walled kitchen garden before the demolition of the manor in 1935, but unfortunately the garden was sold in 1944, so in March of that year we moved to Cottingham.
I worked for J Waites and Son at their grocer's shop in Main Street Swanland, which today has been modernised and converted into a mini-market and on Wednesdays I had a half day off.
When in Hull in April 1940, at the age of 18, I had the impulse to go to the recruiting office and volunteer for the Royal Air Force, hoping for training as a transport driver. I duly signed on the dotted line and then returned home and explained to my mother what I had done, to which she responded "What did you do that for, you'll never pass the medical".
In due course a letter arrived informing me that I had to attend the medical examination, which I did and passed as A1 (fit for active service). When I arrived home I told my mother what had transpired, to which she replied "But you can't have!" so I responded saying "Well I have" but to this day I never found out the reasons behind her remark.
Not long after, I received the papers telling me that I had been accepted for service in the RAF and to report to the assessment centre at Cardington [sic], which I did, only to be told that I would be trained as an armourer and not a driver as I'd hoped.
It was disappointing, however I returned home as I had been given a week to sort things prior to starting my enlistment. when I arrived home my eldest brother was there on leave, he was already a mechanic in the RAF, and I told him that I was soon to begin training as an armourer. He told me that this would involve bombing-up and servicing aircraft guns, but he also went on to say that many experienced armourers had been re-assigned to act as air-gunners, in Fairy Battle aircraft, during the evacuation of the BEF from Dunkirk. Unfortunately many of them were killed in action, creating a shortage of skilled armourers, and that is why I had been assigned for this training.
I said my goodbyes and left the following week as I had to report to Blackpool for kitting-out with uniforms, cutlery, etc and I also had a vaccination and inoculations before starting basic training. This was followed by a day trip to the Derby Road baths and then a week of various lectures before being sent to Morcombe [sic]. It was there that the military training (including square bashing) commenced, this being carried out on the seafront promenade and down the side streets which provided a great spectacle for the local residents and tourists alike.
Next it was out into the fields to practice bayonet drill which involved attacking straw filled sacks suspended between wooden frames. Following the command to fix bayonet the drill went something like this, 'on guard - rifled poised' 'thrust - stick the bayonet into the sack', twist bayonet and 'pull it out' and so it went on.
I and some of my fellow trainees were billeted in a large house with two attic rooms which were used by the owner's sons when on leave from the Royal Navy. The owner and his family were the kindest people you could wish to meet, providing us with good food, comfortable accommodation and they also allowed the married men to have their wives stay over for weekends, this made it a home-from-home for us all.
-1-
[page break]
If any of us were feeling off-colour we would be pampered and well looked after, as one of the daughters was a nurse at the local hospital, and if you happened to mention that you had heard the latest record they would have it within a few days, for you to play on the radiogram.
After the war my sister, brother, his fiancée and I had a lovely holiday with the family as they had re-opened as a guest house again.
After Morcombe it was posting to Kirkham in Lancashire and this was where the work really started with the commencement of the armourer's course. It was found to be nose to the grindstone however I and many of the other trainees didn't really want to be there, for various personal reasons, therefore when it came to filing-down metal for gun parts we would file the metal in the wrong way. When the instructor came round and saw what we were doing he retorted "You can stop that lark! None of you are getting off this course but if you put your backs into it you can do it". After that we had no choice but to knuckle down and get stuck in, which we did and eventually we found that we were beginning to enjoy it, that coupled with the fact that it was quite easy to get to Blackpool, this made life better.
We managed to venture into Blackpool on several occasions and enjoyed some of the various shows at the Opera House, we also found a nice pie shop near the bus station and on the bus journey back to camp it would be a raucous sing-song, what a life!
Once the course was completed we all had to line-up outside the armoury, an officer then came along and said "When your name is called, step forward", my name was eventually called and I duly stepped forward. As selected minions the chosen few, we were informed that we had been posted to Credonhill in Herefordshire, for further training as fitter-armourers we had to go there was no choice.
Down to Credonhill we went and began the new course, which again was nose to the grindstone, however after getting stuck-in the work became enjoyable and the effort paid off as we passed with flying colours. It was there in the September of 1942 that I celebrated my 21st birthday although I was all alone in the billet listening to classical music and from that time on I became hooked on that type of music.
Whilst there we were fortunate in that we could visit Hereford at the weekends, with its fine cathedral, canteen and the river Ouse which gave us a chance to relax and go boating, so I would say that on the whole our stay there was not too bad.
Seven day leave followed which meant a taste of civilian life again and a semblance of normality, that is to say no sergeant bawling at you to come at the double, your own bed to sleep in and a private bathroom with no one making rude comments about your appendage, but alas it was over all too soon.
My first operational deployment came in late 1941 with a posting to Stradishall, (now High Point prison), to 138 Squadron, which was part of the SOE (Special Operations Executive), and I remained there until March 1942 at which time I should have been transferred to Wyton.
At this point it is worth noting a few details about 138 Squadron and its work as it operated for three and a half years, ranging over Europe from Norway it [sic] the north, at times deep into Poland and to Yugoslavia in the south, transporting agents and dropping supplies to the various resistance movement [sic] throughout these countries.
-2-
[page break]
Operation aircraft included the venerable Lysander, affectionately known as the Lizzie, and the Whitley bomber, both of which were originally based at Stradishall before being transferred to Tampsford in March 1942.
Our job was to pack cylindrical supply canisters with whatever was needed, such as arms, ammunition, explosives, radio sets and other vital equipment and supplies, and then load them into the Whitley bomber's bomb bay. The bomber then delivered the canisters to saboteurs and resistance movements in the various countries, dropping them by parachute into rendezvous points where a reception committee of local underground members would be waiting to receive them.
The agents were usually flown to and from their destinations by the squadron's Lysanders, which were quiet aircraft capable of landing and taking off from rough short unprepared airstrips, only staying on the ground for very short periods. You never knew the agent's identity, due to the secret nature of operations, and to preserve their anonymity a telescopic cover was used, extending from the rear of the transport vehicle to the aircraft. Very few people knew in advance of these flights so in winter it was not unusual to be called out in the middle of the night to clear snow from the runway to enable aircraft to take off or land.
My first leave from Stradishall was quite an experience as the train station at Haverhill was well over a mile from the camp and I arrived there just as the train was about to depart, this was when it all started. The station porter asked 'Do you want this train?' so I said 'Yes', but as there was little time he suggested that I obtain my ticket at the other end and virtually pushed me into a carriage. As we approached Hull the ticket collector came round, I had my railway warrant but no valid ticket therefore he more or less accuse me of trying to get away without paying. A dear old soul got up, who I thought was going to hit him with her umbrella and she said 'This lad is fighting for our country' to which I responded 'Don't start another war we have enough with this one against Hitler'. Once in Hull's Paragon station I was taken to the station master's office where the ticket collector explained that he thought I had tried to get away without paying, so I told my side of the story and said 'If you don't believe me ring Haverhill station and they will confirm what I have said'. I eventually got my return ticket.
Not long after returning to Stradishall, 138 Squadron was transferred to Tempsford and I was issued with a travel warrant to go to Upper Heyford in Northants. On arrival I reported to the guard room to present myself and they directed me to the orderly room where, after a while, an officer entered and asked 'Where have you come from ?', 'Stradishall' I replied. The office [sic] then informed me that I was not supposed to be there and said 'We will find you a bed until we can ascertain where you should be'. I was then taken to the cookhouse [sic] for a well deserved meal before being shown to my temporary billet.
Whilst at Stradishall I had written home to let the family know that I was being transferred to another camp and would write again when I got there.
I was at Upper Heyford for about a week before being informed that I should have been transferred to Wyton in Huntingdonshire, so you can imagine my mother's surprise when the police came to her house to see if I was there as I had not arrived at my designated camp on time.
After a while I was told to collect my belongings and that an Anson aircraft would fly me to Wyton. 'Good' I thought, my first flight, so off I went to the orderly room where I was surprised to find out that the aircraft had developed a fault and that I would now have travel by train. I was issued with a railway warrant to Huntingdon, which happened to be the nearest station to the camp, and then driven to the station where I was seen onto the train and off I went, thinking that they were glad to get rid of me.
-3-
[page break]
I eventually arrived at Wyton in late 1942, to join 109 Squadron of the Pathfinder Force, only to face a Court of Enquiry over the fiasco of my transfer and in simple terms it went something like this - Where have you been? your [sic] telling us that you passed through Kings Cross station and were not stopped although we have had the MPs (Military Police) looking for you, they were puzzled! Following my explanation a called[?] was placed to Upper Heyford to verify that I had been telling the truth.
I then settled into my new billet which was occupied by other armourers and when I told them what had happened they all had a good laugh, they knew a new armourer had arrived.
My first order of business was to write a letter home to let them known [sic] that I had arrived, give them my new address and an idea of what had happened to accounted [sic] for the delay in writing.
When I arrived home on my next leave my mother was in a very agitated state as she wanted to know where I had been and why MPs were looking for me. I explained what had transpired and that it was the fault of the orderly room at Stradishall, as they had sent me to the wrong RAF camp, she was pleased that her son hadn't gone AWOL (Absent WithOut Leave) as was first thought.
Following my return to camp the work really started with my first job on an aircraft being fit [sic] a new cartridge chute in the rear turret of a Wellington bomber, affectionately known as the 'Wimpy', which had been brought into the hanger for inspection. It was then taken out onto the runway apron so that the engines could be run-up before it was taken to the dispersal point and knowing I could get a lift back to the hanger I went with the aircraft to check that the turret operated correctly. While onboard [sic] I thought that the pilot was revving the engines up as a test however when I looked out through the rear turret I saw the runway moving away, we were airborne, and it was at this point that panic set in as I didn't have a parachute. I then made my way unsteadily up the fuselage and said to one of the Bods, our name for airmen, "I haven't got a parachute" to which he calmly replied, "Don't worry, none of us have". That was reassuring up to a point, so I made my way back to the rear turret and climber in to enjoy the tail-end Charlie's (rear gunner) view of the countryside. Once we had landed one of the lads asked "Have you flown before?" to which I replied "No that was my first flight", he was surprised and remarked "You're the first one I've seen that was capable of walking in a straight line after his first flight".
Once while working on the front turret of a 'Wimpy' I looked out and saw the Commanding Officer and the Duke of Kent standing on the tarmac.
Wyton was a nice location being handy for the Huntingdon headquarters of 8 Group Pathfinder Force and I also found out that Oliver Cromwell had attended the grammar school in Huntingdon.
My elder brother was medically exempt from service so he and his future wife came down for a holiday at Godmanchester, which was just down the road from Huntingdon, making it possible for me to visit them twice while they were there.
Professor Cox, the inventor of the Target Indicator Bomb and Barometric fuze [sic], came to work at the base and it was the duty of my mate and I to assist him to perfect these, this resulted in us being exempt from postings for three years. The problem we had to overcome was the fact that when the bomb was dropped from an aircraft only half of the 'candles' would burn and it took many attempts before we overcame the problem and got all the 'candles' to burn. On each attempt the bombs were loaded into a Lancaster bomber which then
-4-
[page break]
flew over Thetford forest where an area had been designated onto which the bombs could be dropped. After each bombing run we would travel to the forest in RAF transport so that we could check the results of the drop, first hand.
Another project we had was to redesign the bomb's tail fins so that four could be carried in the small bomb bay of the Mosquito bomber, as it was their task to mark targets for the main bomber streams.
We also made a device known as a 'screamer' which drove the aerodrome mad with its [sic] noise.
The professor received £20,000 for his inventions, which was in great part due to my mate and my self [sic] helping him to perfect them.
On one occasion the professor put some pieces of 'candle' on a work bench in the armoury and ignited them, talk about technicolour. It also produced a thick black smoke that billowed through the hanger, housing Lancaster and Mosquito bombers, causing someone to call the fire brigade thinking that the hangar was on fire. Following this incident we could have been brought up on charges but fortunately the blame fell on the professor who received a serious dressing down for his antics.
Whilst at Wyton I unfortunately contracted oil dermatitis and was hospitalised for quite a while during which time my face was regularly painted with a violet liquid however it didn't do much to help the condition but it did stop it spreading. When the senior Medical Officer went on leave a junior Medical Officer asked "Will you be a guinea pig for me?" and as I had nothing to loose said "Yes". He later came back with a pot of cream, he had concocted it himself, which he then smeared onto my face and miraculously by the end of the week all that was left on my face were red blotches. When the senior Medical Officer returned from leave he found out what had happened and the junior Medical Officer and I got it in the neck however I pointed out to him that the dermatitis had cleared up and with that he stormed off. Some while later the junior Medical Officer came back to to see me and apologised for getting me in to [sic] hot water, he had brought me another jar of him cream but fortunately I didn't need to use it again. I was given a week's sick leave and hoped that the junior Medical Officer would make his fortune after the war.
It was a lovely walk from Wyton to St. Ives, passing through Houghton, across the meadow to Houghton water mill, along the river bank and through a bird sanctuary where on a summers evening bird songs could be heard. On the way we would stop off at Hemmingford Grey which had a good canteen and from here, as in St. Ives, you could go boating. One Sunday my mate and I went to an evening service in St. Ives after which the minister invited us back to the vicarage for supper and this was followed by a game of bowls, on a lovely lawn.
Wyton was the only base I was stationed at that has a bomb dump across the road from the camp, the road being the one from Huntingdon to Warboys, fortunately in those days there was very little traffic about.
In early 1943, 156 Squadron, the second on the base, moved to Warboys which was just down the road from Wyton therefore it was still handy for a cycle rise to Huntingdon.
Our billets were Nissen huts dispersed throughout the woods however if you were in them when all the aircraft took-off the huts would vibrate however to me the noise of the aircraft was a lovely sound.
One evening my mate and I went for a cycle ride and came into a small village called Benwick where we stopped at the local pub for a drink. We wandered out to the back of the pub where we met a lovely family
-5-
[page break]
with whom we started chatting and they asked if we would like a game of bowls, we said that we hadn't played before and they told us it was easy. Off we went to a well kept bowling green for our match and we won as my bowls rolled into the right place, to which they remarked "You must have played before, you have the knack for it and got the bias right", "No" I replied "Beginners luck". They invited us back to their home for supper and said we were welcome to visit whenever we had any spare time. When we were going on leave they would asked [sic] us to come over if we had the time and they would give us eggs and sometime [sic] a chicken to take home.
They had two small sons and a little 18 month old daughter for whom I made a dolls bed, which she still has, and after the war I spent a holiday with them, including a day trip to Hunstanton. Unfortunately the daughter is now the only member of the family left however we still keep in touch regularly and I send flowers on her birthday and at Christmas, this is the least I can do after all the family's kindness shown us during the war.
While stationed at Warboys I got engaged to a WAAF who worked in the telephone exchange where I worked the switchboard once or twice, and here they used to cook for themselves so if they got any kidney when I was going on leave they would give me it to take home, as they didn't like it, this made a tasty treat for my family.
When an aircraft came into the hanger for servicing I would ask the pilot if he was going up on a test flight and if he was I would ask his permission to go up with him, under the pretext of testing the turrets, etc. These were exciting trips as the pilot would hedge-hop the plane, flying low over the meadows and at times you would see a train almost level with you. Near the coast was a farm house and if there was any washing hung out the pilot would fly low over the Ouse and then nose-up so that the washing would blow off the line if it was not pegged tightly onto it, by which time we would be out over the Wash.
On my second flight in a Lancaster the pilot knew I was going up with him and I positioned myself in the mid-upper gunner's turret to enjoy the view. After a while I began to feel really light headed when suddenly there was a tug on my leg from one of the crew, he asked "How long have you been up there" to which I replied "Ever since take-off". "Hell" he retorted "Quick, plug this in to the intercom so that I can speak to the pilot", he then gave me a mask to put on and told me to plug it into the oxygen system. There was no wonder I was feeling light headed and exhilarated as we were flying at a fairly high altitude which meant that I had begun to suffering [sic] from a lack of oxygen and if we had descended quickly it would have damaged my ears.
I soon recovered and once out over the Wash I tested the guns and began to traverse the hydraulic turret, it stopped working and I thought what's wrong now, so I started to traverse the turret manually. At that point I noticed we were flying on one engine and once again panic set in as I wasn't wearing a parachute but fortunately the other engines started up and we were flying on all four engines again. Once on the ground the pilot came up to me and said "Sorry about that, I forgot you had come along, it was a good job one of the crew found you when he did otherwise I could have done you a lot of damage". I then asked him about flying on one engine and he responded "We often do that because the Lancaster can fly on one engine". That was a flight I will never forget and I later read a book by Wing Commander Guy Gibson in which he mentioned flying his aircraft on one engine.
As armourers we were an ingenious bunch so in our dinner breaks we would fabricate cigarette lighter [sic] out of 0.303" and 0.5" calibre 'rounds' and other odds and ends. Firstly the bullet was removed from the cartridge case and the propellant charge (cordite) tipped out, next came the dangerous part, the end of a file was
-6-
[page break]
placed on the percussion cap in the base of the casing and then wrapped in a large wad of rags before the file was hit with a hammer, which would detonate the percussion cap with a bang, but unfortunately my mate lost a finger doing this as he didn't use enough rag wadding. We also fashioned Spitfires from halfpenny pieces, these looked nice when polished and crafted model planes from pieces of clear perspex. Another profitable business was making Dutchess [sic] Sets using square and oblong frames into which nails were fixed every half inch and silk threads criss-crossed between them and knotted, they made lovely presents.
I made my nephew a fort out of old ammunition boxes which I took home in pieces, it was that solid you could stand on it, and also managed to obtain an old parachute for my mother, who being a seamstress made good use of it.
Another perk of the job came when a new Lancaster arrived on base as it had thermos flasks, so it was a mad rush to be one of the first to the dispersal point to grab one, which I managed to do.
While serving at Warboys I was promoted to corporal and asked if I would like to go back to school to learn about bombs and fuzes [sic] as this would mean another promotion to sergeant and an increase in pay. At that time I was a fitter armourer (guns) and already involved with bombing-up and de-bombing plus having worked with Professor Cox I already knew a great deal about the Target Indicator Bomb and the Barometric fuze [sic] therefore I declined the offer, I thought to myself that money wasn't ever thing but good mates were, especially at the height of the war, and anyway it would be a waste of my time plus it meant moving into the sergeant's mess.
[/bold] March 1944 [/end bold] 156 Squadron moved to Upwood however my mate and I were still able to visit our friends at Benwick.
One day on camp, while aircraft were being bombed-up for an operation, there was a terrible accident as a bomb exploded with horrendous force, creating a massive crater and the intense shock wave that followed rippled the structure of three Lancasters [sic] making them look as if they had been made from corrugated iron. Fortunately I was in the guard room, having just returned from leave, as the force of the explosion hurled debris over the building. They [sic] following day the crater was searched but nothing was found and we never really knew what had happened, although one train of thought was that someone had accidentally knocked a barometric fuze [sic] causing it to detonate the bomb.
Following this incident the billet was a very sombre place with so many empty beds, so many mates lost, and there was only one funeral from the camp, that of a WAAF driver who was buried in Upwood church cemetery.
When at Upwood it was possible for me to go to Ramsey and board a train for Peterborough, which connected to the main line, and at that time this journey cost around two shillings which in today's money would be around ten pence. From Peterborough I caught a train for York and then one to Cottingham station, but it was late at night when I arrived and there was no one on duty.
The next day I though [sic] I could get back to Ramsey cheaply so I got a single rail ticket from Hull to Brough and was on my way, or so I thought, because just as I was about to board the train I got a tap on the shoulder, it was an inspector and at this point panic set in. He asked "Why are you catching this train" and with a bit of quick thinking I replied "Argyle Street was bombed last night and my boss brought me home to make sure everything was OK and I have to be back on duty by 12.30". The inspector then asked "Which side of the train will you get off at Brough" and as I had local knowledge I replied "That side", pointing to the opposite
-7-
[page break]
side of the train, he then let me get on. Once onboard [sic] I went right down the train and hid it [sic] the toilet until the train departed, just in case the inspector had got on. I managed to get all the way back to Ramsey on that ticket and it was fortunate that there was no one at the other end to check it however all the way back my nerves were on edge in case a conductor came round and asked to see my ticket, needless to say I never did that again, once was enough.
One date of note was the 10th February 1944 as this was when King George VI and Queen Elizabeth visited the base and it was a bitterly cold frosty morning. The armoury was opposite the officer's mess outside which the guard of honour had formed-up and because it was so cold the officer in charge decided to take them for a run up the road to keep warm. However, just as they turned back the royal party came into view so they had to make a hasty dash back, at the double, to be in place for the royal salute and as we had a great vantage point it gave us a good laugh.
There was a lot of hard work prior to the visit as we painted the curbing stone white, painting them black again after the visit, cleaned the inside of a Lancaster, which was due on ops that night, and washed a hanger floor with petrol, all this for a royal visit, it would have been better for them to have seen it as it was. Somehow what we had done made the papers and we were all confined to camp for a week.
On the 6th June 1944 all the armourers were called out at first light to refit the front turret back into all our Lancasters. We had removed the turrets some months earlier, which gave the aircraft a 25mph increased [sic] in air speed, however the Germans had caught-onto this and began attacking the aircraft from the front because the mid-upper turret guns could not be depressed enough to give adequate frontal covering fire.
The turrets had to be fitted as quickly as possible during that day as the aircraft were needed for ops that night. Cranes were used to lift the complete turret but as we had no scaffolding the only way to fit then [sic] was for us to go in through the pilot's escape hatch and out onto the front of the fuselage to guide the turrets into position, no health and safety rules to follow in those day [sic] which meant that one slip and you would end up head first on the concrete. Once a turret was in position it was fairly straight forward job to connect up the hydraulic lines, fit the covers and check its operation however due to the urgency of the job we had to work without normal breaks so our food was brought out to us and surprisingly we completed the task in time.
I remember it was a cold day with light drizzle however our spirits were lifted when we saw the sky fill with aircraft of all types, some towing gliders, we all shouted "D-Day has started", and I thought it was the most magnificent sight I had ever seen. Due to that days hard work all our aircraft took off on ops that night and we were given the following day off, which we needed as we were bone weary and very wet.
On the 1st January 1945 the New Years Honours List came out and I was surprised to see that I had been mentioned in despatches, quite an honour, and much to mu mother's delight.
At the end of the war, if I had been serving on a permanent aerodrome I would have remained in the RAF, the service that I loved, but unfortunately I was posted to a satellite aerodrome at Stour-on-the-Wold near Stratford-apon-Avon. Here life became tedious with nothing to do but look after 52 rifles in the armoury, a dummy 4,000lb bomb in the bomb dump, there was no paperwork to do and nobody seemed to know what was going on. Somebody delivered a further 20 rifles to the armoury and I asked him "Why have you brought them here" to which he replied "We don't want them" and off he went, this was now the nature of the job.
-8-
[page break]
Later when demob came I was glad to leave, so off I went to Cardington where I was given a medical and a demob suit together with my discharge papers, a book of money orders to cover demob leave and a rail warrant home. After several weeks of demob leave I once again became a civilian, back to a so called normal life.
In late 1946 I returned to my job at Waite's grocery shop. then in early 1947 I broke off my engagement with the WAAF girl, who was a Londoner, and later started dating a local girl called Lucy Ann Baitson, who also worked in Waite's shop. She lived at Mill Lane in Swanland and we eventually got married at All Saints church in North Ferriby in 1949, but tragically she dies in 1979.
After a long and varied career I finished my working life as chief storeman [sic] at Everthorpe borstal.
Just a note about Wing Commander Don Bennet, a great man who unfortunately never received the recognition or honour that he deserved for his efforts during [the] war. On the 27th April 1942 he became the Commanding Officer of 10 Squadron and while flying a Halifax bomber on a raid over Norway, to bomb the German battleship "Turpitz" in Trodhiam [sic] fjord, he was shot down. Fortunately he managed to escape capture and reached Sweden from where he returned to England via the BOAC Courier Service, ensconced in the bomb bay of a Mosquito bomber. On his return of duty Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur "Bomber" Harris made him the Commanding Officer of 8 Group Pathfinder Force and later after his death his ashes were interred under the RAF Memorial on Plymouth Hoe.
Now, nearly 70 years on, having been ignored after the war by Winston Churchill, the man who said "We had to bomb Dresden", a remark which many still remember today, our brave bomber crews have finally been given the recognition they readily deserve. In Green Park, London, a splendid permanent memorial has been erected, consisting of a sculpture depicting a bomber crew mounted on a large plinth and housed in a grand stone built structure, open on two sides, complete with a dedication to those men.
Having spent the war years serving with bomber squadrons and in hind sight I am now of the opinion that these heroic men should have received the military's [sic] highest awards for what they had to endure. Going out night after night on bombing missions over mainland Europe, particularly Germany, knowing that they would face the ferocity of the German flak guns, night fighters and searchlights. I saw first hand the severe damaged [sic] inflicted on a lot of those aircraft returning from missions, unfortunately many planes and crews never did return and to be honest I don't know how they did it.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The war memoirs of 1096366 Cpl T Waller
Description
An account of the resource
Memoir covers early life, joining and training as a Royal Air Force Armourer and his subsequent wartime career. States that he served on 138 Squadron at Royal Air Force Stradishall and describes its Special Operation Executive operations. Goes on to talk about his postings to Royal Air Force Wyton on 109 Squadron and mentions work on the development of the target indicator barometric fuse. Covers his subsequent move to Royal Air Force Warboys with 156 Squadron and then on to Royal Air Force Upwood and records armourer activity including those on D-Day. Finally talks about the end of the war and decision to leave as well as note about Wing Commander Donald Bennett and the Bomber Command Memorial in Green Park.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Thomas Waller
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Nine page typewritten document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BWallerTWallerTv1
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
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.
109 Squadron
138 Squadron
156 Squadron
166 Squadron
Absent Without Leave
Bennett, Donald Clifford Tyndall (1910-1986)
bomb dump
demobilisation
final resting place
George VI, King of Great Britain (1895-1952)
ground personnel
Lancaster
medical officer
memorial
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Pathfinders
perception of bombing war
RAF Kirkham
RAF Stradishall
RAF Upwood
RAF Warboys
RAF Wyton
Special Operations Executive
training
Wellington
Whitley
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/106/1011/BBriggsDWNealeWv1.1.pdf
517c696d7b7ef0bf110c35395391be88
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
Briggs, Donald
Donald W Briggs
D W Briggs
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.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-03-27
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Briggs, DW
Description
An account of the resource
21 items. The collection consists of one oral history interview with flight engineer Donald Ward Briggs (1924 - 2018), his logbook, memoirs and 16 wartime and post war photographs. He completed 62 operations with 156 Squadron Pathfinders flying from RAF Upwood. Post war, Donald Briggs retrained as a pilot flying Meteors and Canberras. He eventually joined the V-Force on Valiants and was the co-pilot for the third British hydrogen bomb test at Malden Island in 1957.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Donald Briggs and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[underlined]Tribute to a Pathfinder Captain [/underlined]
Squadron Leader William G. Neale DSO DFC Croix de Guerre
1912-2001
It was April 1944, and I had just completed the Flight Engineer training course at R.A.F. St Athan S. Wales. Shortly after arriving at R.A.F. Lindholme near Doncaster to commence training on the Halifax bomber, about twenty or so of us new Flt Engineers attended a “crewing up parade”. The crews were lined up in sixes awaiting the additional member to make a full crew of seven. The pilot in each crew broke away and approached our group. I was asked for by name and stepped forward to meet Flying Officer Bill Neal. He know from my training records that I had some limited flying experience through accompanying pilots on air tests following engine changes etc. Bill explained that his crew had all completed one tour of ops and they had been selected to go to a Pathfinder Squadron directly after four engine bomber conversion. He explained what it all meant and what the duties of a Pathfinder crew would be. Bill asked me if I would like to join his crew and I accepted without hesitation. And so it was that fate decided that I should sit alongside this outstanding pilot for the next twelve months!! All the crew were commissioned officers but Bill promised that he would do his utmost [?] to get me commissioned after completing a tour of ops. That evening I received my “initiation” into the crew at one of the local “watering holes”!! I was not allowed to buy any beer!!
As our training on Halifaxes proceeded I quickly realized my extremely good fortune in becoming part of this very experienced bomber crew. In fact on our first night navigation exercise, an engine suffered a burst coolant header tank, quickly overheated and had to be to[sic] shut down and the propeller feathered. Bill calmly and skilfully carried out his first night landing on three engines! Of course he must have done numerous single engine landings as a flying instructor on Wellingtons.
[underlined]William G. Neal (Bill to all the crew) First impressions [/underlined]
I was approaching my twentieth birthday and Bill was almost twelve years my senior. His mature friendly nature and jovial personality transmitted a feeling of well being in all who came into contact with him. I personally regarded Bill as my mentor and felt that he was the one who would get us safely through the war.
His leadership qualities were of the highest calibre, namely: great courage, example, coolness under fire, tenacity, professionalism, and the ability to maintain high morale in his crew. Above all, Bill was a superb pilot!! We were all encouraged to stay fit and healthy and our skipper set a good example by playing squash regularly!
[underlined] Operations and Training [/underlined]
[page break]
Having completed training on the Halifax, the next stage was our introduction to the magnificent Lancaster. This was accomplished at the Lancaster Finishing School RAF Hemswell nr. Lincoln. It was only a short familiarisation course, both day and night flying, and Bill was immediately “at home” with this superb aircraft! So now we were all set to join The Pathfinder Force and proceeded to the PFF Navigation Training Unit at RAF Warboys nr. St. Ives Cambs. (only five miles from RAF Upwood). It was a very short course lasting only four days. We flew a training sortie each day consisting of navigation and practice bombing. During this course I was taught how to use the bombsight, how to give corrections to our pilot, and after practice in a synthetic trainer, dropped smoke/flash bombs on a nearby bombing range. The reason for the flight engineer having to become the visual bomb aimer in a Pathfinder crew, was due to the normal bomb aimer or observer being fully pre-occupied on his radar (H2s). He would probably have to mark the target indicators (Ti’s) if the “Master Bomber” called for them.
On the 25th May 1944 we arrived at Royal Air Force Upwood to join No. 156 (PFF) Squadron.
[underlined] Our First Crew on PFF [/underlined]
[underlined] Flying Officer W.G. (Bill) Neal [/underlined]PILOT and CAPTAIN (one tour of ops on Wellingtons and recent flying instructor at RAF Harwell, Oxon)
Sergeant D.W. (Don) Briggs FLIGHT ENGINEER (ex NCO aero engine fitter)
Pilot Officer Alan Lewis NAVIGATOR (one previous tour of ops)
Flying Officer George Hodges 2nd NAVIGATOR and H2S RADAR OPERATOR (one previous tour of ops on Wellingtons)
Flying Officer John Carrad WIRELESS OPERATOR (one previous tour of ops on Wellingtons)
Flying Officer “Jock” McViele [?] MID UPPER GUNNER (one previous tour of ops)
Flying Officer “Paddy” Kirk REAR GUNNER (one previous tour of ops)
The settling in period for the crew before commencing operations, was about two weeks of intensive training flights. These involved mostly radar navigation, practice bombing, fighter evasion which gave Bill some “corkscrewing” practice (we had a Spitfire making simulated fighter attacks from astern). Needless to say the gunners had their guns safe!! They were able to get live firing practice later on a sleeve being towed by special aircraft – even I had a go after being shown how to operate the guns in the front turret!!
During our training on the Halifax at Lindholme, Bill had very kindly given me an introductory flying lesson (I had never handled an aircraft in flight before!) After taking my place in the pilot’s seat, he showed me how to maintain the correct nose altitude for level flight and how to use the roll control to level the wings also make gentle turns. Once we were established on the Squadron we had a training commitment in navigation and bombing to fulfil. This was necessary in order to “hone” our skills and maintain the very high standards demanded of PATHFINDER crews. During most of these flights Bill and I would change places and under his close supervision, I would take control of the big Lancaster – what a fantastic feeling! By
[page break]
giving me plenty of handling practice, Bill, being a very responsible captain was ensuring that someone was capable of flying the aircraft in emergency. Thus I can take pride in saying that my first flying lessons were given by the excellent Bill Neal!! It’s worth noting that no Lancaster on the squadron was equipped with dual controls, which is why it was necessary for the pilot to vacate his seat to allow me to fly the aircraft.
We were now declared “fully operational” and on 11th July 1944 Bill called us together and said “we’re on the Battle Order for tonight chaps”! We lost no time in getting our flying kit on, then carry out a thorough check of our aircraft that we would be flying on the raid and by a short air test. The aircraft would then be prepared for the operational sortie by our ground crew (they were a dedicated band of men and took great pride in their own Lancaster). The fuel load was usually maximum. Then last of all would come the bomb load on special trolleys quite often towed by a W.A.A.F. The bombing up team would then winch the bombs/flares/Target Indicators into the bomb bay.
After a few hours rest in the afternoon it was time to attend a mass briefing. The target for our Op No. 1 was to be the marshalling yard at TOURS in Southern France. With all the flight planning completed we sat down to a good pre flight meal then made our way to the locker room. The air gunners had to wear plenty of warm clothing, as the outside air temperature at twenty thousand feet could be -10oC[?] and very little heat from the aircraft system reached the turrets. Both gunners were issued with electrically heated thermal suits and gauntlets. The rest of the crew wore thick rollneck pullovers under the battledress jacket and of course everyone wore fleece lined suede flying boots. Each crew member had his own parachute harness and chest[?] type parachutes were issued separately. We then boarded coaches and were dropped off at our own aircraft. The ground crew were already at the aircraft and the Form 700 (servicing record) was presented to Bill for signature. After the obligatory external inspection including an inspection of the bomb load and removal of safety pins, each crew member took up his position in the aircraft. It was my job to start all the engines when our skipper gave the order, and we had a precise time to start taxying. To see twenty or so Lancasters in a stream round the perimeter track was a thrilling sight!! There was always a crowd of station personnel by the side of the runway to see us off (lots of W.A.A.F.’s!!) It was vital that each bomber took off precisely on its allocated time. When it was our turn, Bill entered the runway lining up the heavily loaded Lancaster as close to the end as he could. At the end of the navigator’s countdown, Bill used to say “OK chaps as the earwig said – EARWIGO”!! as he advanced the throttles to full power accelerating down the runway for a perfect take off. Ask my ex Lancaster crew member and he will tell you what a wonderful sound those four Merlins made at full power!! I suspect the “earwig” saying was not only routine but superstition also, but it was part of every operational take off for our crew.
Once we had set course and were climbing to operational height the “butterflies” disappeared as we all had plenty to do. The flight engineer’s log had to be completed every half hour, recording all engine gauge readings and that fuel usage was according to plan. It was vital not to show any light in the cockpit. Bill’s flight instruments were dimly lit by u/v lights directed on to the luminous dials, and I had to use a torch with a very small hole in the blacked out glass when filling in my log.
[page break]
Both navigators worked under black out curtains. We had a very strict microphone discipline in a bomber crew. If a mic. Was left ON after saying something there was a hissing noise caused by oxygen flowing into the mask[?]. It was essential to keep the intercom quiet in case the gunners reported a night fighter and called “corkscrew (port or starboard) GO”. Our skipper Bill was a strong chap and could certainly throw a Lancaster around!! On my very first op with the crew I had my “baptism” in the form of two fighter attacks. Paddy our rear gunner saw the fighter before he could get in close and during the violent corkscrewing the four brownings in the rear turret made a noisy “clatter”. This was exciting stuff for the new crew member!!! In both attacks the fighter’s shots went wide and he broke away.
On this sortie and several more night ops to follow we were part of the “illuminating force”. This meant that we were one of the first to arrive at the target and would drop a stick of very bright parachute flares to enable the Master Bomber to visually identify the aiming point. He would be either a Lancaster or a Mosquito at a low altitude and would then drop cascading target indicators (mixed reds and greens). Further pathfinder aircraft were required to “back up” the marking by dropping more TI’s. Later in our tour we took on this role. Although anti aircraft fire (flak) on our first series of French targets was not intense, German targets were very heavily defended. Our first German target was Hamburg (op no. 13!!) and as we prepared for our bombing run the barrage of flak looked terrifying. Just as I was having doubts whether we could get through it, Bill said “don’t worry it always looks worse than it really is and the puffs of flak you see are the ones that can’t do any harm”. I felt slightly better!! The flak guns were radar predicted and the Germans had developed accurate height finding equipment. To make their job more difficult we used to fly a “weaving” course initially until the actual bombing run when the aircraft had to be held steady apart from small left and right corrections from bomb aimer to pilot. This is when we were most vulnerable to predicted flak and being "coned" by searchlights. Even after bomb release we still had to maintain heading until over the target and the photograph taken. This was a great relief to all the crew as it meant that Bill would usually dive for a few hundred feet then climb again and so on, until well clear of the target area. Our route away from the target was always planted to keep us clear of heavily defended areas, however, the threat from night fighters was ever present. Some ME110 fighters were fitted with upward firing canon. The pilot would fly formation below the bomber (in a blind spot to the gunners) and fire upwards with devastating results. In our Lancasters at the bomb aimer’s position there was a rearward facing perspex scoop through which we used to drop bundles of “window” (each containing millions of thin strips of silver foil to fog the enemy radar screens). I used to spend as much time as possible with my head down looking through this perspex in case a fighter was underneath.
One of the most sickening and demoralising sights was to witness a bomber aircraft being shot down. The bomber would be spinning down in a mass of flames and when it impacted (possibly with a full bomb load) there would be a massive explosion and fireball. Our navigator would make a note of the time and position, then we tried to put it out of our minds. Throughout our operational tours this experience was to be repeated many many times. We felt great sadness at the loss of our comrades, but thankful that we were spared.
It was a relief to be back over friendly territory on the way home and once we were
[page break]
crossing the North Sea the gunners could relax slightly. The aerodrome lights of Upwood were a most welcome sight and the controller had his work cut out fitting all the returning Lancasters into the circuit. Bill invariably brought our machine in for a well judged landing, tired though he must have been! Our ground crew were there on the dispersal to greet us climbing out of our trusty Lancaster and were always keen to know which target we had bombed. WAAFs with mugs of hot coffee laced with rum and the Padre having a chat as he handed out American cigarettes!! Then followed a debriefing by the intelligence officer and other specialists. Many times I remember walking back to the Mess for breakfast as dawn was breaking!
Some ops were very long flights (see record of operations following) and one might well ask “how did you stay awake and fully alert the whole time”? Well we had the option of taking “wakey wakey” pills as we used to call them. They were actually Benzodrine tablets (a stimulant) and most of us took them.
The remainder of our operation followed the general pattern previously described, however, we flew many daylight ops particularly in support of our ground forces on the Normandy Battle Front. We also attacked flying bomb sites in the Pas de Calais area using a special method. Six Lancasters flew close formation on a Mosquito equipped with “Oboe” (an extremely accurate blind bombing device). At the same split second the bomb left the Mosquito every Lancaster released its full load of bombs. Thus the V1(buzz bomb) site was totally obliterated possibly saving the lives of many Londoners. Ops 2, 3 and 4 were carried out on successive nights but were all fairly short trips to targets in France. On 14th October 1944 we flew a daylight raid on Duisburg in the morning, and with hardly any rest, attacked the same target that night! The target was an armaments factory in the Rhur and was heavily defended.
After completing my first tour (40 ops) having already had my commissioning interviews, sure enough exactly as Bill had promised, my commission came through. I was now able to join Bill and the rest of the crew in the Officers Mess.
At this Bill had completed[underlined] two tours [/underlined] of ops and decided to keep going as did Johnie Carrod, George Hodges, and of course myself (I wanted to complete two tours also). However, Alan Lewis (nav), Paddy Kirk and Jock McVitie (the two gunners) decided to “call it a day”. Thus our crew became:-
Flight Lieutenant (later Sqn. Ldr.) Bill Neal DFC Captain
Pilot Officer Don Briggs Flight Engineer
Flight Lieutenant George Hodges DFC H2S Radar Operator
Sergeant …..? Archer RCAF Navigator
Flight Lieutenant John Carrod DFC Wireless Operator
Flight Sergeant (later Warrant Officer) …..? Patterson (Mid Upper Gunner)
Flight Sergeant Eric Chamberlain Rear Gunner
And so we pressed on! From then on every op except one was a German target. We flew some very long trips (two of them were over [underlined] (eight hours)[underlined] Our longest flight was to Stettin
[page break]
On the Baltic coast – almost to Russia – eight and a half hours! That was stretching a Lancaster endurance to its limits I seem to remember.
We bombed Chemnitz and Dessau in Eastern Germany and of course on 13th Feb.1945, we were sent to Dresden. The firestorm was an awesome sight.
On the 24th March 1945 I flew my last operational sortie with Bill – it was a daylight raid on a Rhur target!
No words can do justice to the piloting skill, leadership, and fearless tenacity, coupled with the ability to maintain high morale, of our Captain, Comrade in Battle, and good friend, William G. Neal – Bill to all of us in his Lancaster bomber crew.
It was an honour to be part of his team, and I shall be eternally thankful that he got me through the most dangerous era of my life. Sadly, Bill Neal died on the 22nd November 2001. I shall miss him enormously.
[underlined] RECORD OF OPERATIONS [/underlined]
OPS 1 11th June 1944 Lanc III “J” (NE120) TOURS (M/Yards) 5hrs 55min.
OPS 2 15th June “ Lanc III “B” LENS 2hrs 20min.
OPS 3 16th June “ Lanc III “A” RENESCURE 2hrs 05min.
OPS 4 17th June “ Lanc III “H” MONTDIDIER 3hrs 30min.
OPS 5 24th June “ Lanc III “K” MIDDEL STRAETE 2hrs 15min.
OPS 6 27th June “ Lanc III “J” OISEMONT 2hrs 30 min.
OPS 7 2nd July “ Lanc III “J” OISEMONT 2hrs 50min.
OPS 8 7th July “ Lanc III “J” VAIRES (M/Yards nr PARIS) 4hrs 25min.
OPS 9 10th July “ Lanc III “J” NUCOURT 3hrs 00
OPS 10 12th July “ Lanc III “J” TOURS 5hrs 05min.
OPS 11 14th July “ Lanc III “J” PHILIBERT 3hrs 05
OPS 12 18th July “ Lanc III “J” CAGNY (Battle Front)
Wg.Cdr.Bingham-Hall Sqn. 2hrs. 50
OPS 13 28th July “ Lanc III “F” HAMBURG 4hrs 55
OPS 14 30th July “ Lanc III “K” BATTLE FRONT (Low level) 3hrd 05
OPS 15 3rd Aug. “ Lanc III “J” BOIS De CASSAN 3HRS 35
OPS 16 5th Aug. “ Lanc III “F” FORET De NIEPPE 2hrs 05
OPS 17 7th Aug. “ Lanc III “J” BATTLE FRONT A/P 5 2hrs 45
OPS 18 9th Aug. “ Lanc III “F” FORT D’ENGLOS 2hrs 20
OPS 19 12th Aug. “ Lanc III “D” RUSSELSHEIM (nr FRANKFURT) 4hrs 20
OPS 20 15th Aug. “ Lanc III “J” EINDHOVEN Airfield (Holland) 2 hrs 55
OPS 21 16th Aug. “ Lanc III “H” KIEL 5hrs 25
OPS 22 18th Aug. “ Lanc III “E” CONNANTRE (M/Yards) 5hrs 20
OPS 23 25th Aug. “ Lanc III “J” RUSSELSHEIM 7hrs 20
OPS 24 29th Aug. “ Lanc III “J” STETTIN (Our longest flight) 8hrs 30
OPS 25 31st Aug. “ Lanc III “D” LUMBRES 2hrs 35
OPS 26 15th Sept. “ Lanc III “J” KIEL 5hrs 05
[page break]
OPS 27 16th Sept. “ Lanc III “J” MOERDUK Bridges (Holland) 2hrs 55
OPS 28 20th Sept. “ Lanc III “J” CALAIS Area A/P 6B 2hrs 10
OPS 29 23rd Sept. “ Lanc III “J” NEUSS (DUSSELDORF) 3hrs 30
OPS 30 25th Sept. “ Lanc III ”A” CALAIS Area A/P IC 2hr 55
OPS 31 26th Sept. “ Lanc III ”A” CAP GRIS NEZ (CALAIS) 2hrs 30
OPS 32 27th Sept. “ Lanc III “A” CALAIS A/P 11 1hr 50
(Our shortest Operational Sortie!)
OPS 33 5th Oct. “ Lanc III “K” SAARBRUCKEN 5hrs 00
OPS 34 7th Oct. “ Lanc III “J” KLEVE (Flak damage to port wing) 3hrs 20
OPS 35 14th Oct. “ Lanc III “J” DUISBURG (RHUR) 3hrs 30
OPS 36 14th Oct. “ Lanc III “A” DUISBURG 4hrs 10
(Twice in one day!!!)
OPS 37 18th Nov. “ Lanc III “J” MUNSTER (Plt. Off. Don!!) 3hrs 50
OPS 38 28th Nov. “ Lanc III “J” ESSEN (RHUR) 4hrs 30
OPS 39 30th Nov. “ Lanc III “B” DUISBURG (RHUR) 4hrs 25
OPS 40 5th Dec. “ Lanc III “J” SOEST M/Yards (End of my
First tour of ops!) 5hrs 40
OPS 41 6th Dec. “ Lanc III “J” OSNABRUCK 5hrs 15
OPS 42 29th Dec. “ Lanc III “J” COBLENZ 4hrs 15
OPS 43 2nd January 1945 Lanc III “J” NURNBURG 7hrs 40
OPS 44 4th Jan. “ Lanc III “J” ROYAN (Nr. Bordeaux) 5hrs 05
OPS 45 5th Jan. “ Lanc III “J” HANOVER 4hrs
OPS 46 14th Jan. “ Lanc III “J” LEUNA (Morsburg) Oil Plant
(Diverted Tangmere – fog at Upwood) 8hrs 05
OPS 47 16th Jan. “ Lanc III “J” ZEITZ (Oil Plant Nr. Leipzig) 6hrs 30
OPS 48 28th Jan. “ Lanc III “0” STUTTGART
(Flew with Flt. Lt. Williams) 6hrs 00
OPS 49 7th Feb. “ Lanc III “J” GOCH (Bombed from 4500ft) 4hrs 40
OPS 50 8th Feb. “ Lanc III “B” POLLITZ (STETTIN) 8hrs 05
OPS 51 13th Feb. “ Lanc III “J” [underlined] DRESDEN [/underlined] 7hrs 45
OPS 52 1st March “ Lanc III “J” MANNHIEM 5hrs 05
OPS 53 5th March “ Lanc III “J” CHEMNITZ 7hrs 40
OPS 54 7th March “ Lanc III “J” DESSAU 7hrs 50
OPS 55 8th March “ Lanc III “J” HAMBURG 5hrs 15
OPS 56 12th March “ Lanc III “J” DORTMUND 4hrs 25
OPS 57 15TH March “ Lanc III “J” MISBURG Oil Refinery 6hrs 20
(Nr. Hanover)
OPS 58 16th March “ Lanc III “J” NURNBURG (3 fighter attacks) 6hrs 50
OPS 59 19th March “ Lanc III “J” HANAU Nr. Frankfurt 5hrs 45
OPS 60 20th March “ Lanc III “H” HEMMINGSTADT (Nr. Heide
30 miles South of Danish border) 4hrs 35
OPS 61 22nd March “ Lanc III “J” HILDESHIEM (Nr. Hanover) 4hrs 25
OPS 62 24TH March “ Lanc III “J” HARPENERWEG (RHUR) 4hrs 25
[page break]
[underlined] NOTES [/underlined]
Operations printed in RED were flown at night. Those printed in GREEN were daylight operations.
[underlined] Forty one [/underlined] operations were flown in Lancaster “J - Johnnie” (that would be “Juliet” in present day international phonetic alphabet).
The most concentrated months were August 1944 (eleven sorties), and March 1945 (eleven sorties)
Author: Flight Lieutenant Donald Ward Briggs, DFC RAF (Retd.)
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
Tribute to a Pathfinder captain
Description
An account of the resource
Tribute to Squadron Leader William G Neal Distinguished Service Order, Distinguished Flying Cross, Croix de Guerre, 1912-2001. Describes how Don Briggs met and was crewed with Bill Neal’s crew who having completed one tour had been selected for a second on Pathfinders. Describes training as well as Bill Neal’s piloting and leadership qualities. Notes that Bill Neal gave Don Briggs the opportunity to learn to fly. Describes first operation on 156 Squadron Pathfinders to Tours in France in great detail including being engaged by night fighters. Describes various Pathfinder techniques and attacking V-1 bomb sites formation on Oboe-equipped Mosquito. Describes operations over Germany with reference to ant-aircraft fire and night fighters. Explains that some of the crew including Neal and Briggs volunteered for a further tour completing a total of 62 operations. Ends with a list of all 62 operations.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Donald Briggs
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Eight typewritten pages
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
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
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BBriggsDWNealeWv1
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Cambridgeshire
France--Tours
Germany
France
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944
1944-06
1944-07
1944-07-18
1944-07-30
1944-08
1944-08-07
1944-08-08
1944-08-15
1945
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Sue Smith
David Bloomfield
156 Squadron
aerial photograph
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
bombing of Luftwaffe night-fighter airfields (15 August 1944)
bombing up
crewing up
debriefing
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Service Order
fear
flight engineer
ground personnel
H2S
Halifax
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Master Bomber
Me 110
military service conditions
Mosquito
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Oboe
Pathfinders
perimeter track
pilot
promotion
RAF Hemswell
RAF Lindholme
RAF Upwood
RAF Warboys
searchlight
superstition
tactical support for Normandy troops
target indicator
target photograph
training
V-1
V-weapon
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force