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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1063/32267/B[Author]ParkerEv1.pdf
0e0d169b9f1fca9213bafb9d9117e82c
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Title
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Parker, Eric
E Parker
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. An oral history interview with Warrant Officer Eric Parker (b. 1924, 1522919 Royal Air Force), a photograph and a biography. He flew operations as a navigator with 12 and 166 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Eric Parker and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-05-05
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Parker, E
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[underlined]DECEMBER 2014[/underlined]
[underlined]"ERIC'S STORY"[/underlined]
Eric Parker was born on the 12th of January 1924, in the district of West Derby, Liverpool.
The youngest of three brothers he went St Mary's village school. He had an adventurous
childhood, since his father Thomas a farm labourer readily gave him access to the open
country life on the farm where he worked. The farm was situated in Knowsley and was
called Bathers Farm which is now a built up area.
As a boy Eric enjoyed many happy hours on the farm, especially during hay making and
harvesting time. This closeness with nature meant as he grew up he really enjoyed the
outdoors. He became a boy scout when he was twelve years of age and his love of the
outdoors meant many years of happy camping and scouting in general.
He left school at fourteen years of age and went into immediate employment as a lift
attendant working in the seven stories National Bank in Fenwick Street, Liverpool for the
magnificent sum of fourteen shillings per week (70 pence in today's money). This was a very
good wage at the time for a fourteen year old boy, the average then being about ten to
eleven shillings per week. However being a boy with higher ambitions he voluntarily left his
job as lift attendant and became aa apprentice electrician for a wage of seven shillings and
sixpence per week (an appreciable drop in earnings).
This job however didn't last too long, as his love of nature and the outdoors still lingered
and he soon left this employment to become a student gardener with Liverpool Parks and
Gardens. This meant each year he would be employed at a different park, nursery or farm
belonging to the corporation all this whilst studying to become a professional gardener. His
first year was at Newsham Park, Liverpool in the greenhouse and nursery site.
A year later he was at Harbreck Farm, Aintree. This farm produced vegetables for the
hospitals and homes in the corporation's bounds. By this time by attending various technical
college courses he obtained his junior Royal Horticultural Societies Certificate in Botany and
Practical Gardening.
[page break]
The year was now June 1941 and we were at war with Germany, at the age of seventeen
and a half years he joined the RAF as air crew and awaited call up which came in January
1942 on his eighteenth birthday.
After the usual enlistment procedures in London and Brighton, he found himself at the
Initial Training Wing in Paignton, Devon. Here with, many others he learned the mysteries of
things like navigation, meteorology, electronics etc. as well as physical exercise and drill.
Such a course was very exacting and all grew up from callous youths to seriously competent
young men, so that by 1943 he was part of a large body of airmen ready to be shipped to
Canada as possible pilots having successfully been graded by flying in Tiger Moths at RAF
Sywell in the midlands.
The troop ship Empress of Scotland safely took him and many others to Halifax, Nova Scotia
despite the great U Boat threat of the time. Soon he was on a troop train which took him to
Moose Jaw, Satchewan and from there to a nearby RCAF airfield named Caron. Here he
settled in to a twenty four week pilot's course, flying Fairchild Cornell Trainers. As a pilot he
had a very short career and was soon grounded as unsuitable (The Chief Flying Instructor
remarked "Parker as a pilot you would be more use to the enemy") and posted to a holding
unit at Brandon in Manitoba, awaiting a thirty two week course as a navigator/bomb aimer
(The longest aircrew course at that time).
Finally he was posted to number six Bombing and Gunnery School at Mountain View,
Ontario, learning all about bombs, bomb sights and machine guns and bomb aiming. Twelve
weeks later after flying on Ansons and Blenheim Aircraft he passed this part of the course
and was posted to the number nine air observer school at St Johns, Quebec, which was
quite close to the provincial capital Quebec City and also near to Montreal, where his uncle
John lived having emigrated to Canada after World War 1.
With his friend Bill Readhead, they were able to spend weekends at his apartment as he was
now a nationalised Canadian and held a Managerial post in the celebrated Mount Royal
Hotel. Consequently the pair was in regular attendance as his guests at the exclusive
Normandy Roof Club on a Saturday night (All on the house).
[page break]
By February 1944 Eric qualified as a Sergeant Navigator and received his flying brevet. He
sailed for home just before Easter 1944, again on the Empress of Scotland (With very little U
Boat threat this, time).
Back in UK (He holidayed in a commandeered hotel in Harrogate for a couple of weeks)
After a few short postings for familiarisation with UK wartime flying conditions and
restrictions he was posted to RAF Husbands Bosworth, Northampton on operational training
unit, flying on Wellington Bombers for a twelve week course. Here he along with a mass of
various aircrew trades, signallers, gunners, pilots etc. were all assembled en'masse in a big
Hangar and told by the Wing Commander Flying to crew themselves up. He left the hangar
saying he would be back later.
As they all mingled together Eric was approached by a tall gangly New Zealand pilot who
introduced himself as Alec Wickes who asked him if he would consider joining his crew as
navigator, Eric agreed and soon together they assembled a crew, namely Alec Wickes Flight
Sergeant Pilot, Eric Parker as Sergeant Navigator, Trevor Connolly (NZ) Sergeant Wireless
Operator, Bob Whyte (NZ) Sergeant Bomb Aimer, Arthur Saunders Sergeant Mid Upper
Gunner, Doug Horton Sergeant Rear Gunner and finally Bill McCabe Sergeant Engineer.
Later that morning the Wing Commander returned and those who were still uncrewed (Very
Few) were told by him without any argument, this was his final decision and he crewed
them up. His last act of that morning was to line them all up in two ranks and say "Look at
that man next to you" (This they all did) "Gentlemen you have thirty operations ahead of you
and I tell you now, one of you will not be coming back from your tour, good luck to you all
and if anyone here wishes to opt out take a step forward now." No one stepped forward.
So they finished their crew flying and they all went on to the heavy conversation unit at
Blyton near Gainsborough to start flying on the famous Lancaster on a course that was to
last for six weeks.
Eric enjoyed his time at Blyton and he with his new crew soon bonded together becoming
almost like brothers, doing everything together on and off duty. They were billeted in a
Nissan hut along with another crew and they learned to become a reliable crew who
depended totally on each other for their survival.
[page break]
Finally they finished their course on Lancaster's and in December 1944 just before Christmas
they were posted to One Group B Flight Twelve Squadron Bomber Command at RAF
Wickenby as a brand new crew.
Wickenby is situated twelve miles south east of Lincoln and Lincoln Cathedral was a
wonderful land mark for any returning aircraft. Twelve Squadron itself was a very old World
War One squadron whose motto is "Foxes lead the field." This and a Foxes head are
emblazoned on its crest; it is still in service today.
Life on the squadron was fairly easy going apart from when you were on "Ops" and Eric and
crew soon fell into the swing of things. A normal day would normally entail going across to
the "flights" (A group of Nissan huts on the other side of the airfield). This was quite a long
walk, like everyone else Eric signed out a bicycle for himself and most of the crew followed
suit later. At "flights" they had a crew room, where crew sat, drank tea and gossiped.
By this time "Wickes's" crew had been allocated a brand new Lancaster with Squadron
Markings PH-Y painted on its fuselage and soon they took it on its first air test. The air test
proved perfect and they were all delighted at having a brand new machine for their tour. At
this time during lunch in the Sergeants Mess everyone gathered around the notice board to
read the battle order for that particular night. Wickes's crew were on it and they read out
the petrol load required for the operation; it was full tanks (21 .54 gallons). They knew it
was to be a very long trip, but where to? That would come later at briefing.
Eric's first operation was in fact Chemnitz in Far Eastern Germany a few miles from Dresden
which had been fire bombed the day before. A thousand bombers took part, it was very
long and exhausting, but the crew came back elated at their success in getting back home
safely.
This posting to Wickenby now presented Eric with a big problem; he was due to get married
on the 6th of January 1945 to his dearly beloved fiance Aimee having become engaged to her
prior to leaving for Canada a year earlier.
[page break]
Eric had first met his wife to be at a dance in St Andrews Church Hall, Clubmoor, Liverpool,
one Saturday night. He always remembers this time fondly. He had arrived there with his
friend Lenny Hughes and was waiting along with many other young men for a ladies choice
dance to begin. He didn't hold much hope of being chosen, but a lovely young sixteen year
old girl came confidently across the floor and asked him if he would like to dance. For Eric it
was love at first sight and they became engaged six months later.
Luckily the CO realised Eric's Marriage problem and granted Eric and all the crew a five day
emergency leave and so all the crew attended his wedding.
The wedding took place at St Andrews Church, Clubmoor, Liverpool on the 6th of January
1945. After the wedding ceremony Aimee and Eric went to Blackpool for a three day
honeymoon.
The crew remained on leave in Liverpool until Eric and Aimee returned from Blackpool, they
as a crew left Liverpool from Lime Street station on the fifth day of their leave back to their
Squadron at Wickenby.
[page break]
Life went on as usual and soon the crew had a dozen operations under their belts and went
on to seven days leave in the month of February. Eric went home to Liverpool and the other
members of the crew went elsewhere.
On return it was with utter dismay, they found that their aircraft PH-V had been shot down
and the crew listed as missing in action. This was a new crew who had borrowed PH-V for
their first and only operation. The crew were really dismayed at losing PH-V, but were then
given PH-N, this was the oldest kite on the twelve Squadron, but it was a "lucky machine"
that had ninety seven operations to its credit, so they didn't mind too much.
So life continued much as before, a series of events, such as air test, practical bombing,
take-off and landing sessions, air gunnery with Spitfires as enemy and of course night
bombing operations over Germany.
[page break]
During nights off the station emptied out into Lincoln or more usually to the local pub.
These were very lively evenings were everyone got a little drunk and sang their heads off.
The station also put on dances with WAFF'S and invited ladies from local villages in
attendance. While to camp cinema showed numerous films of the time.
Eric noticed as their tour progressed that like many other crews they started to get a little
"twitchy" as they completed more and more operations. To date Wickes's crew had been
lucky for they had survived three night fighter attacks by using a favourite tactic called "cork
screwing" The fighter attacks always came from above the port or starboard wing of the
bomber. For example if it was the starboard side under attack the air gunner concerned
would shout "Fighter Fighter starboard beam, prepare to corkscrew, starboard now" On this
command the pilot would partially throttle back the four engines and but the aircraft into a
steep diving turn to starboard, this meant that by turning into the attacking aircraft it would
have to steepen its turn also to keep on the target. By the time the Lancaster had lost about
one thousand feet the pilot would pull it up and go in a steep turn to port and climb up a
thousand feet, thus completing the first cycle of a corkscrew. Which would be repeated until
the fighter broke off his attack. By the time he got his aircraft back on track the Lancaster
had managed to escape out of sight, unlike today the attack planes had no way of re
locating their foe. The aircraft suffered little damage from these attacks except during an
attack by an ME 109 the tail fin being partially shot away.
Navigational tactics during an operation could also endanger the aircraft and many aircraft
collided and blew up when navigators took an action which was called "Dog Legging". This
happens when the navigator realised he would be too early over the target and would have
to take time losing action which couldn't be actioned simply be reducing airspeed (Usually
navigators had plus or minus three minutes tolerance over the target). Dog legging meant
altering course off the briefed track by sixty degrees for three minutes to starboard or port,
this meant that the bomber would be cutting directly across the main bomber stream all
virtually unseen at night. Usually the dog leg aimed to lose three minutes of time, so after
three minutes the navigator turned the opposite way through one hundred and twenty
degrees for a further three minutes, and then the navigator turned the bomber back on
track to the target. This would effectively put him back on time by three minutes. He would
repeat this action again if he still found it necessary to lose more time. It was an extremely
dangerous tactic to undertake as there was a huge risk of collision.
[page break]
They also successfully survived flying through anti- aircraft flack box barrages, apart from
loud explosions from nearby exploding shells and the clatter of shrapnel on the fuselage;
they suffered little damage from the running of the gauntlet.
Soon Wickes's crew became the senior crew on the Squadron with twenty three operations
to their credit and so with a final operation to Heligoland the war came to a close, although
an armistice had yet to be agreed upon.
By this time PH-N had completed one hundred operations and was awarded by the
Squadron members with a DFC and they all celebrated that night in the mess.
Things were in a bad state in Europe. The Dutch particularly were all starving, so the
Germans agreed on "a safe passage" for a massive air drop on Holland. This was carried out
by our bomber command and the USA Eighth Air Force which flew B17 Fortress bombers.
This huge Operation was given the code name "MANNA" by the British and "CHOWHOUND"
by the Americans and so Eric continued on Ops, but this time instead of bombs Wickes's
crew dropped food, and didn't they come down low, zooming across the flat, flooded
landscape of Holland at zero feet, with hundreds of Dutch civilians waving to them as they
passed over their villages.
Eric's crew did four food drop operations, so he completed the Air War with twenty seven
operations, three short of his tour of thirty. It had been a successful war for Wickes's crew
but the icing on the cake was yet to come, when a few weeks later whilst on end of war
leave Eric discovered he had been awarded the DFM (Distinguished Flying Medal) while Alec
Wickes (Now and officer) had been awarded the DFC (Distinguished Flying Cross) and so
they all disbanded and took de mob leave.
Eric for his part was very unsettled for in January 1945 he had become a married man and
now had a wife to consider. He now realised that he enjoyed service life and loved flying and
after a long talk with Aimee they decided to continue RAF life together/ come what may. He
signed on for a further eight years. later he extended this to twelve years. Finally as time
passed by for the full twenty two years which entitled him to a full retirement pension at
the age of forty? This also meant that he could live out with Aimee and she would receive a
[page break]
living out allowance along with her marriage allowance. As a married couple they were
financially comfortable compared to many young couples settled in Civvy Street at the time.
Eric had left Wickenby and the crew had dispersed while he in turn was at a holding unit on
'an old airfield called Snaith in Yorkshire. Aimee then was living with her sister Lillian while
continuing with her post wartime job as a machinist at Lybro Clothiers; they only met at
weekends and on leave. This was rather an unsatisfactory arrangement for them both but
they accepted it and the short term separation until he got his life on a more permanent
station.
Unfortunately this was not to be as he was posted in May 1946 to RAF Dishforth in Yorkshire
on a heavy conversion unit on York Transport Aircraft. This would ultimately mean that
shortly he would be posted on to a Transport Command Squadron and would be spending
lots of his time out of the country on route flying to the middle and far-east, at least once a
month. Aimee was not happy about this, but accepted the enforced separation
philosophically.
There was one good piece of news that came out of this new posting. Seemingly his old war
time skipper Alec Wickes had not left the service and returned to New Zealand, but had
signed on with the RAF. He to had been posted to Dishforth and had asked for his old
navigator to join him there on the next available course. This request was granted so they
met up once again and flew together for nearly three more years.
It is worth mentioning at this point that aircrew on obtaining their wings were promoted to
the rank of Sergeant. Some were commissioned as officers. After one year Sergeants were
promoted to Flight Sergeant and a year after that they became Warrant Officers. By Easter
1946 Eric had become a Warrant Officer. These ranks were not permanent however and
only acting by definition as he explains later in this account.
Soon, Eric with his old pilot Alec Wickes (Now a Flight lieutenant) completed their course on
the York Transport, this plane is a development of a Lancaster Bomber, but with a large
under slung roomy fuselage designed to carry both cargo and passengers or both.
[page break]
and an air quartermaster and so joined 246 Squadron, Transport Command.
They had only been on the Squadron two days when Alec approached Eric and said "get
your maps and charts together we are going on a ten day round trip to India tomorrow".
This entailed a five days each way flight which was achieved by slipping crews in Egypt (This
means one crew rested in Egypt and the other went on and Eric's crew followed with
another plane the next day). The route was UK to Castel Benito, Tripoli, from there to
Heliopolis in Cairo, then to Shaibah, Iraq, to Karachi, India and then on to Palam near Dell. It
was all daytime flying, they night stopped at Tripoli and slipped crews at Heliopolls for one
day. They night stopped at Karachi and after Palam they returned to UK on a reverse flight
order. These were gruelling flights and they all came back greatly fatigued (Today known as
jet lag).
Such flights had their compensations and such was the case here in the form of smuggling.
This was quite easy in those early days of peace. The British public had been deprived of
luxury goods for many years and now had money to spend. There were no customs officers
on any of the airfields and strangely, at many places along the routes luxury items like
watches, jewellery, nylons, perfumes and ladies shoes were readily available and cheap.
One of the most popular items smuggled in by the crews was large Chinese embossed Indian
carpets from KarachL They cost about thirty pounds in Karachi and sold for around one
[page break]
hundred and fifty pounds in the UK. Smuggling became so well known in Cambridge (a later
transport station) that at nights in the Criterion Hotel Bar transport crews would be
approached by young ladies with a torn out copy of an advert from some American
Magazines, this would be pocketed by the would be smuggler along with an outline of the
ladies foot and this pattern would be faithfully copied by a back street shoemaker in Karachi
for five pounds and later sold in UK to the lady for fifteen pounds. This also applied to all the
other short supply goods mentioned. This smuggling continued a" the time Eric was on
Transport Command to late 1948. Finally ended when a Customs Airfield was established at
RAF Lyneham and all future route Yorks had to call there for customs clearance. From then on
all the crew's duty free allowance was restricted to a bottle of whisky and two hundred
cigarettes, a" other imports were taxed and so ended smuggling - more or less.
Eric and Alec were only at Holmsley South for about four months then they were posted to
242 Squadron at Oakington, ten miles from Cambridge. At Oakington they had a new role
flying Yorks with both passengers and freight and their route had now been extended to
include Singapore and RAF Changi. Flying basically the same route as before, but now
including either Dum Dum near Calcutta or Negombo in Ceylon. The choice of which route
depended on the position and activity of the monsoon rains at the time.
Most ofthe time on the UCS route so called, was uneventful, except for one incident
halfway across the Indian Ocean on enroute from Changi to Negombo. Eric - as navigators
do, was taking a merpass of the sun with his sextant, when his astrodome blew off and away
went the dome and the sextant. He was rather shaken as were the rest of the cabin crew,
but soon they all settled down to a rather noisy and windy flight. luckily there was no rain
and at Negombo the ground crew sealed the opening temporarily and so they were able to
continue for home next day.
Eric and Alec carried on flying Yorks on 242 Squadron until the end of 1947. The Alec was
posted to the Empire Air Training School at Shawbury and Eric to 148 Squadron at Upwood
near Peterborough and back on Lancaster’s at Bomber Command again.
It was whilst on this Squadron that he received the news on 14th January 1948 that his wife
Aimee had given birth to a baby girl, later to be christened as Sandra. (So named after the
homing searchlight beacons present on Bomber Command during the war).
[page break]
This period in their married lives meant that for once they could be together even though
accommodation was hard to come by. However they struck lucky and Eric was able to hire
an eighteen foot caravan situated about half a mile from the RAF Station gates.
[page break]
They were very happy there, but by February 1948 Eric was on the move once more, being
posted to RAF Wyton, (is Squadron Bomber Command) twelve miles away from Upwood
towards Huntingdon. Eric would commute by bicycle.
luckily they had just started building new married quarters at Wyton and after a few
months they moved from the caravan into brand new married quarters on the camp at
Wyton itself.
These were very settled times for them both and baby Sandra. Eric was now flying Lincoln’s.
This was really a stretched version of the Lancaster, but updated in several ways, yet still
obsolete, now that Canberra's and V bombers would soon be coming into service.
Never the less life was now settled and enjoyable for Eric and Aimee, but for how long?
Unfortunately it was not for long at all, by April 1950 he was posted to RAF Marham, near
Kings lynn, Norfolk and so they had to vacate their quarters and move on once again.
luckily this station was also embarked on a big building scheme, but quarters would not
become available for about eighteen months. luck was again on their side and they
managed to rent a self-contained flat over a general store in Downham Market. So they all
settled down yet again. Aimee and Sandra were very happy there and became lifelong
friends with the owners of the flat. However this meant that Eric had to cycle back and
forward to work each day which was rather a bind (Twelve miles each way). Once the
building started he was able to hitch a lift with the Lorries delivering materials for the
building of the new runways.
[page break]
Marham turned out to be a very special posting; he became part of a team chosen to form a
new conversion unit because the RAF had decided to re-equip their Bomber Squadrons with
B 29 Bombers from the USAF (United States Air Force). The B29 had proved itself in the
Japanese theatre of war and was seen as a perfect stop gap plane until the Squadrons of the
RAF were re-equipped with jets.
Initially these new crews were all converted on to the B29 by American crews and Eric
because he was already familiar with the "Norden" bomb site became a Bombing Instructor
when the first of the new RAF B29 Squadrons came into conversion. The B29 was known in
the RAF as the Washington and he remembers up to eight Squadrons of RAF air crew that he
was involved in training. The conversion unit then finally became a full Squadron in its own
right and was given the title 35 Squadron. He now served on the new Squadron as a
Navigator/Bomber Aimer.
A year later Eric was able to move into a new married quarter on the base, this was a three
bedroom semi-detached house with all mod cons of the day.
[page break]
During his time at Marham Her Majesty the Queen visited the base and the next door
married quarter was inspected by her. All the children were lined up to meet her.
He remained at Marham until June 1956. Sandra grew up and then at five years old
attended a small “hutted" infant school set up by the camp authorities for Eric's part, life
settled down to the usual humdrum Squadron life, except now he was a full Flight Sergeant
but life was similar to before. Cross country exercises, bombing and gunnery etc. life had
become quite boring.
Things changed in 1955 when other bomber squadrons in the RAF were now being re
equipped with jet bombers and the B 29 crews had the very pleasant task of ferrying a well-
used B29 back to the USA.
Eric was lucky and made three transatlantic crossings, firstly via Iceland to near New York
and then down to Dover in Delaware. They night stopped at Dover and next day flew via
Montgomery in Alabama and then on to their destination at Davies Monthan Air Force Base
near Tucson, Arizona, a very successful flight to a huge desert airfield full of thousands of
moth balled military aircraft stretching out into the desert as far as the eye could see. It
really brought home to him the enormity of the American Air Force and how it now had an
Air Force fully equipped with jet planes.
[page break]
The crews returned to Marham courtesy of American civil and military transport planes as
passengers.
Later at Marham 35 Squadron converted on to the jet Canberra Bomber.
It took Eric quite a while to adjust to the new speeds and altitudes of the Canberra, then
gradually as before he settled down to normal Squadron life.
He remained at Marham until June 1956, until the whole Squadron was relocated to RAF
Upwood and so he completed a full circle in Bomber Command. Shortly after arriving Aimee
and Sandra moved into a new quarter on the base and Sandra went on to the village school
in Ramsey village.
Eric was only at Upwood a week when the Suez Canal crises occurred, this was when the
canal was nationalised by Colonel Nassar and closed to shipping. British and French
Governments strongly objected to this action and several Squadrons of Canberra's were
posted out to Akrotiri in Cyprus, 35 Squadron being one of them. As history shows this
campaign to open up and free the blockaded Suez Canal which was aided and abetted by
France and Israel became an utter farce and even after successful landing of troops in the
zone and one bombing raid by RAF Canberra's on Cairo Radio Station the whole force had to
withdraw, like whipped dogs since the United Nations with USA in the lead, insisted that this
[page break]
action was against International Law and that sanctions would be taken against us all if we
disobeyed the UN's orders.
Once again Eric was back at RAF Upwood to whatever lay ahead, he didn't have to wait too
long, by early July 1957 he was posted to Kuala Lumper in Malaya to the Department of
Psychological Warfare (Whatever that was).
So by late July 1957 Eric found himself on the troop ship 55 Oxfordshire along with Aimee
and 5andra, as he had organised an accompanied passage for them.
[page break]
The ship had to go via Durban, South Africa, because the Suez Canal was still closed to
shipping. When they reached Durban they were on the first troop ship to call there since the
end of World War 2. In those days the "troop ships" were always met by the "Lady in White"
who sang patriotic songs over a very loud PA system and the citizens welcomed all the
troops as they passed through. Now as patriotic as ever, she came out of retirement to
welcome them all both in and out of the harbour during their twelve hour stay. As the
Oxfordshire left Durban at dusk she was on the quay and sang them away with land of hope
and glory. It was a very emotional experience for all on board.
A couple of weeks later they arrived early morning at Singapore and they all spent the day
sight-seeing in Singapore City, before boarding a sleeper train bound for Kuala Lumpar {KL}.
The night trip was uneventful in spite of terrorist activity in certain areas of the route. All
servicemen including Eric were issued with rifles and revolvers.
[page break]
They arrived at KL early morning and took up residence for a few days in the Paramount
Hotel in Batu Road.
It took Eric and family a few days to get settled in but soon they were safely billeted in an
RAF civilian hiring at an area called Brickfields.
Meanwhile Eric acquired an old Standard 9 saloon car for a small sum and soon was using it
to get himself and family to and fro from hiring to airfield and elsewhere. In fact life became
very pleasant indeed, Sandra was soon enrolled in the local British Army School and was
bussed into lessons every weekday. These lessons finished at lpm every day, Aimee and
Sandra taxied to the airfield nearly every day where they met up with Eric at the Naffe Club
and swimming pool, since he had usually finished the days flying duties by then. The family
[page break]
later moved into a small bungalow at Petaling Jaya and new housing estate on the outskirts
of KL.
Eric discovered that he was now a navigator attached to a flight of three old Dakota
Transport Planes of World War Two vintage, but still fully operational. They were known as
"The Voice Flight" each was named as "Faith" "Hope" and "Charity" and had been especially
adapted to carry out loud hailing operations for the Department of Psychological Warfare.
Each Dakota carried four ground tannoy loud speakers securely attached to the underside of
the fuselage on a metal girder pointing out to port (Left) (Can be seen in photo just above
wheels). Power to these was in the form of a huge emergency AC Ground Generator and
was firmly bolted in the centre of the empty fuselage along with four by fifty vault valve
operated amplifiers which stood at each corner of the generator. Messages in various local
languages such as Chinese, Malayan and Indian were recorded on an endless tape and so
messages were sent out to various terrorist groups in their jungle hideouts asking them to
surrender. These terrorist groups were determined to break away from the British Empire
and form a free Malaya, but not as a democratic government, but as a Communist one
which the British Government was not prepared to sanction.
Eric soon found out that this was quite a dangerous job since all the flights were done at a
very low level and followed a square search pattern at a very low airspeed which meant
flying near the aircrafts stalling speed. Most flights were [performed early morning and
lasted three to four hours every day seven days a week, but not in bad weather conditions.
Paint Your Wagon (Not the film later released starring Clint Eastwood and lee Marvin) was a
very popular musical on Broadway and soon the voice flight had adapted one of its songs as
a signature tune, namely "l Talk To The Trees" (Clint Eastwood later sang this in the film). It
was a very exacting job, but seemed to get results. As the terrorist war progressed so the
terrorist groups gave ground more and more towards the Siamese Border. Soon the voice
flight was on the move and found themselves at Bayen Nepas a small airfield on Penang
Island.
Aimee and Sandra soon followed a few days later when Eric had obtained a small Bungalow
hiring at a small hamlet on the Island named Buket Glugar. This was also HQ for an RAF Boat
Squadron for the region and several high speed launches were birthed there for sea patrols
in that region. The voice flights were made very welcome by them and gave them access to
their mess and outside film show which the family enjoyed. Eric was also a member of the
Army Sergeants Mess at Minden Barracks which allowed them to use the facilities including
swimming pool, this was near to their home in Green lane.
[page break]
During the move to Penang, there was a tragedy the Dakota's were being used to carry
freight to their new base in Penang and since the airfield had no night facilities one of the
planes fully laden was in a hurry to take off to get there before nightfall and in his haste the
pilot Flight lieutenant Kevin Kelleher failed to carry out his ground checks and took off with
his elevator locks still inserted in the elevators in the fully up position. On take-off he went
straight up in the air and stalled and crashed on the end of the runway. Fortunately no one
[page break]
was injured but the plane was a write off. (I recently learned in December 2014 that Kevin
had died). Now we only had "Hope" and "Charity" left.
In August 1959 Eric was promoted to Warrant Officer yet again, but this time he was of
substantive rank and now known as a Master Navigator. He remained in this rank until he
retired.
By the end of December 1959 the terrorist war came to a victorious end to the British and
Commonwealth Forces. The terrorists surrendered in droves. The Chinese leader Chin Peng
disappeared over the Thai Border and presumably ended up back in Communist China (He
lived to a good age and died last year 2013). It was also the end ofthe British Governing in
Malaya as the country became an Independent state. At the beginning of January 1960 the
Malayans celebrated MERDEKA (Freedom) and became known as Malaysia. On 1st January
1960 Eric and family arrived by air into London's Heathrow. After a visit to Air Ministry Eric
was posted (After a month's leave) to Dishforth.
It should be mentioned at this point that prior to leaving Malaya Eric had ordered a new
Hillman Minx Car from a dealer in George Town, Penang. In those distant days it was almost
impossible to buy a new car in the UK as they all went for export and any UK models carried
a huge purchase tax burden. However since he was then deemed as overseas he was able to
purchase a new model free of taxes which was duly deducted from the export line in the UK
and was awaiting his collection for when he had finally arrived home. This collection was
duly made by him whilst on leave and so he became the owner of a brand new Hillman Minx
At Dishforth instead of York Aircraft he found himself on a twelve week conversion course
on the mighty Bristol Beverley a workhorse transport aircraft as navigator.
[page break]
In early 1960 Eric finished the conversion and was posted to 47 Squadron at Abingdon in
Oxfordshire. A lovely area to be posted to. With his seniority he soon moved into married
quarter whilst his daughter Sandra who had passed the eleven plus examine in Malaya,
moved into the local Grammar School, so the Parkers were settled once more except for the
number of detachments he would have to suffer, now that he was back in Transport
Command.
Whilst stationed on the new base apart from the usual crew training so named as
continuation training, they were also involved in para trooping and heavy drop training, but
most of the time the crews were out of the country ferrying passengers and freight to all
parts of the Med, Middle East and all over Africa north of the equator. For example the
Squadron flew out to Eastleigh/Nairobi, Kenya for a month in November 1962 and made
numerous food drops to the famine suffering areas of Kenya in the northern frontier district
on the Ethiopian border, either air dropping or landing with heavy supplies, on very short air
strips carved out of the bush. Short field landings and take offs were a speciality for the
Beverley with its four reverse thrust engines and very low landing speeds and robust under
carriage. The Squadron spent Christmas in Nairobi and returned to UK in January 1963.
Satisfied that they had done a good humanitarian job in Africa.
During his time with 47 Squadron he made several interesting trips, one in particular was to
a place called Manfe in the British Cameroons; this meant crossing the Sahara Desert with a
load of heavy freight for a new airfield being constructed there right in the middle of a
dense jungle region. On his first flight, his navigation took him to a couple of miles of the
new airstrip, but unfortunately for him all homing devices on the airfield had broken down,
making it impossible to find the airfield among the dense canopy of trees. They flew around
for about half an hours searching vainly for visual contact, but to no avail. But hope came
from an unsuspected source, as one of the passengers, a civilian air engineer, returning to
Manfe from UK leave came forward and recognising a nearby river bend was able to direct
them to the much concealed airstrip. Relief was expressed all round as fuel was getting
critical by this time and they would have had to consider diverting to Kano a big airfield in
Nigeria.
The second trip was no problem as all the radio waves were fully serviceable, on returning
to UK Eric had to report sick as he found out he had contracted amoebic dysentery and
spent three weeks in isolation hospital at RAF Ery, Norfolk. He finally got clearance for the
disease and was soon back on flying with the Squadron, with a medical restriction which
[page break]
supposedly was to restrict his flying to Europe only but the squadron ignored this and soon
he was back en route to Khormaksa, Aiden. This airfield served the port of Aiden and the
Yemen.
This was at the time when Britain was withdrawing from the smaller outposts in the middle
and Far East. With many others on the squadron he helped in this withdrawal. Evacuating
troops and valuable freight back to the UK.
Eric remained with 47 Squadron until August 1964, when he applied for a one year home
posting which airmen ending long service were entitled to receive under RAF regulations.
The parker family packed their bags and bought a brand new semi-detached house at
Formby. This house had a large back garden. The house had been purchased
and equipped during an earlier leave period. His new posting was to an RAF telephone
exchange at Haydock - between Liverpool and Manchester alongside the Haydock
Racecourse. This exchange also supported a Radar tracking unit in its grounds. In his last
year Eric became a RT controller on the unit. (A very cushy posting). Although the hours
could be very irregular depending on when the new V bomber force wanted to practice
their radar bombing. As he now still had the Hillman Minx, the journey from Formby was
not onerous.
[page break]
At this time the role of the Plotting Unit should be explained. Its purpose was to allow the V
Bomber Force to practice it's blind bombing techniques. Each unit (There were several
dotted over the UK) had two radar dishes in cabins, it was the task of the operators to track
the V Bombers as they made their bombing run in for the target, which in this case was the
dead centre of the plotting table. So that as they came into range information from the
dishes was passed to this part of the unit.
This triggered off the ink filled tracker arm fixed on the plotting table and this track
continued towards the table centre until the bomber pilot called bomb had gone then the
plotting arm stopped drawing. The by a series of mathematical tables a controller was able
to calculate where the bomb would have struck in relation to the target on the plotting
table centre and the results were then passed to the bomber by VHF radio. The V Bomber
Force honed its blind bombing skills in this way and became more proficient.
The bombers would fly from their various bases situated in other parts ofthe UK and
ostensively bomb Haydock and other such units situated elsewhere in the course of the
exercise.
[page break]
Eric quite enjoyed his short time at Haydock and recalls one very special evening which has
stayed with him until this day. About 1030pm all RT discipline on the unit was broken when
a V Bomber pilot called him up and said "Have you heard the news? President Kennedy has
been assassinated." Soon the airwaves were awash with uncontrolled chatter. It seemed so
strange as strict radio discipline had always been the rule.
Soon Eric's time at Haydock and indeed the RAF ended. He departed in late August 1964, on
his last but one day to the de mob centre just outside Blackpool and took a bed there for the
night. Next morning he went through all the de mob procedures and finally was kitted out at
the clothing store with a full set of civilian gear. This gear was exactly the same as that given
to conscripts at the end of the World War 2 -1945-1948 and comprised: Hat, shirt, tie,
three piece suit, socks and shoes, and belted raincoat. Eric found them handy for working in,
in the garden and other odd jobs. He also received his final wages which surprisingly
contained a £12 bonus for winning his DFM. Seemingly officers received £25 for their DFC's,
but were expected to forgo this amount and donate it to the RAF Benevolent Fund (Or so he
was told).
Eric became a civilian once more and he felt quite disconsolate as he made his way home to
his new house in Formby and new life with his wife and daughter. He had made plans for his
future, during his last few years at RAF Abingdon and he now intended that his new work
life would be that of a schoolmaster and so during that period he attended many
educational courses provided by the RAF to obtain the necessary GCE's to gain entry to a
training college.
During this time he obtained good passes of GCE's in Maths, English Language, English
literature, Navigation, Chemistry, Geography and General Paper. These were quite
sufficient at that time for entry into college. He was finally accepted by Edge Hill Teachers
Training College, near Ormskirk, Lancashire, which is situated about twelve miles inland
from the coast of Formby, which is now a part of Merseyside (Since 1974) and so he
travelled to and fro each day in the comfort of his Hillman Minx (Quite a change from his
cycling days in the RAF).
Edge Hill was a very stately college in lovely grounds and as a former lowly lad from West
Derby, he felt very privileged to be a mature student there. This mature status meant that
he only had to complete a two year course and so he joined up with a junior course of
students that had just completed their first year's study. He joined this course at the
beginning of the Easter Term 1965 along with about six other mature students, both men
and women were on the course.
[page break]
For his main subjects he elected to specialise in Geography and Rural Science as he still
maintained his love of the outdoors and the wider world. Rural Science comprised many
topics such as general gardening, soil science, botany, chemistry and he found it very
interesting especially as his new house in Formby embraced an extra-large garden. (As
earlier photographs have shown).
The Geography course was equally comprehensive and he found it quite fulfilling as it
embraced so many subjects that he had used every day as his role as RAF Navigator. Such
topics as map projections, meteorology, geology, astronomy, time and tides, all were
relevant to him and so he found the course quite absorbing and easy.
During the two years at Edge Hill Eric had to complete a full school term teaching practice
for each of the years, for the first year he was lucky and completed his practice at Holy
Trinity Junior School in Formby which was very convenient for him.
For the second year term of practice he taught at Ormskirk Secondary School. He enjoyed
both these postings and learned a lot about handling children and general classroom
procedures.
Finally he qualified and left college and took up a position at St luke's C of E School in
Formby.
For his main subjects he elected to specialise in Geography and Rural Science as he still
maintained his love of the outdoors and the wider world. Rural Science comprised many
topics such as general gardening, soil science, botany, chemistry and he found it very
interesting especially as his new house in Formby embraced an extra-large garden. (As
earlier photographs have shown).
The Geography course was equally comprehensive and he found it quite fulfilling as it
embraced so many subjects that he had used every day as his role as RAF Navigator. Such
topics as map projections, meteorology, geology, astronomy, time and tides, all were
relevant to him and so he found the course quite absorbing and easy.
During the two years at Edge Hill Eric had to complete a full school term teaching practice
for each of the years, for the first year he was lucky and completed his practice at Holy
Trinity Junior School in Formby which was very convenient for him.
For the second year term of practice he taught at Ormskirk Secondary School. He enjoyed
both these postings and learned a lot about handling children and general classroom
procedures.
Finally he qualified and left college and took up a position at St luke's C of E School in
Formby.
[page break]
This was a typical small village school still maintaining its links with the church even though
this was now the responsibility of the local council.
The headmistress at this time was an old fashioned spinster named Miss Cubbons and she
ruled the school with a fair but firm hand. Eric remembers his opening week with her when
one day she said to him "Remember this Mr Parker, you don't want children to like you, you
want them to resoect you and liking you will follow." Eric took this on board and it served
him in good stead during his twenty two years of teaching.
During his first two years at St Lukes Eric was in charge of second year Juniors and settled in
well until Miss Cubbons retired and a new headmaster was appointed, a Mr Brian Waiter
Mills who was formerly Deputy Head at St Peters, Formby.
Eric and Brian became firm friends almost overnight and when the school reconvened at
the end of the summer holidays he move Eric up to fourth year junior class teacher. Eric was
delighted with his new post and soon spread his wings, since the new head although quite
traditional, was not afraid to accept new challenges. This suited Eric and he spread his wings
into all sorts of educational topics of curricular and non-curricular. By and large the boys and
girls of the fourth year responded well to his efforts and he gained the respect not only of
the children but their parents as well.
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
Eric Parker's Biography
Description
An account of the resource
Titled Eric's Story it details Eric's life from birth in Liverpool. He joined the RAF on his 18th birthday in January 1942. Initial training was at Paignton then he was shipped to Canada. He failed to progress as a pilot and was transferred to a navigator course, returning to UK in February 1944. He flew in Lancasters with 12 Squadron at Wickenby. He and his entire crew were given five days leave so that he could get married in January 1945.
His crew dropped food for the starving Dutch as part of Operation Manna. After the war he served with Transport Command on Yorks. He continued moving around and spent time on B-29s then Canberras at Marham. Later he and his family were sent to Kuala Lumpur then Penang on Dakotas.
On his return he was posted to Abingdon on Beverleys. This included trips to Nairobi.
He transferred to Haydock as a radio controller, after which he left the RAF and became a teacher.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2014-12
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
32 page typed sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Personal research
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
B[Author]ParkerEv1
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
United States Army Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Liverpool
England--Knowsley (District)
England--Liverpool
England--Aintree
England--Paignton
Canada
Nova Scotia--Halifax
Saskatchewan--Moose Jaw
Manitoba--Brandon
Ontario
England--Harrogate
Germany--Chemnitz
Germany--Dresden
England--Blackpool
England--Lincoln
England--Bournemouth
India
Egypt
Libya--Tripoli
Egypt--Heliopolis (Extinct city)
Iraq
India--New Delhi
Pakistan--Karachi
Singapore
India--Kolkata
Sri Lanka--Negombo
England--King's Lynn
England--Downham Market
Iceland
United States
Delaware--Dover
New York (State)--New York
Arizona--Davis-Monthan Air Force Base
Egypt--Suez Canal
Malaysia--Kuala Lumpur
South Africa--Durban
Kenya--Nairobi
Cameroon
Sahara Desert
Nigeria--Kano
Yemen (Republic)--Aden
England--Formby
England--Haydock
England--Ormskirk
Germany--Helgoland
Québec
Québec--Montréal
Arizona
Delaware
New York (State)
Libya
Saskatchewan
Germany
Nova Scotia
Kenya
Malaysia
South Africa
Pakistan
Sri Lanka
Nigeria
Yemen (Republic)
Malaysia--George Town (Pulau Pinang)
England--Devon
England--Hampshire
England--Lancashire
England--Norfolk
England--Lincolnshire
Manitoba
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
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.
1942
1943
1944
1945
12 Squadron
148 Squadron
15 Squadron
242 Squadron
35 Squadron
47 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
B-29
Blenheim
bomb aimer
C-47
Cornell
crewing up
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
entertainment
flight engineer
ground personnel
hangar
Heavy Conversion Unit
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
Lincoln
love and romance
Me 109
navigator
Navy, Army and Air Force Institute
Nissen hut
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Operational Training Unit
pilot
RAF Abingdon
RAF Blyton
RAF Dishforth
RAF Eastleigh
RAF Husbands Bosworth
RAF Lyneham
RAF Marham
RAF Oakington
RAF Paignton
RAF Shawbury
RAF Snaith
RAF Sywell
RAF Upwood
RAF Wickenby
RAF Wyton
Spitfire
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
wireless operator
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1765/30779/EJamisonFWLAyneAJ430924.1.jpg
6d2f7808df1ffe3e5a3de6aeee4b525e
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
Layne, Wally
Walter Henry Layne
W H Layne
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
2017-06-07
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
Layne, WH
Description
An account of the resource
100 items. The collection concerns Walter 'Wally' Layne (b. 1916, 963012, 40348 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, prisoner of war diary, personal and official correspondence and photographs. He flew operations as a wireless operator with 97 Squadron and became a prisoner of war after being shot down.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by D Layne and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Royal Air Force,
Oakington.
Cambs.
OAK/C409/301/5/P1. 24th September, 1943.
Dear Madam,
As the Officer supervising the disposal of your husband’s effects, may I be permitted to offer my sincere sympathy.
In accordance with Air Ministry Orders, his personal effects, assembled at this Station will shortly be despatched to the Standing Committee of Adjustment R.A.F. Colnbrook, Slough, Bucks, who will communicate with you at the earliest possible date, and to whom all future correspondence should be addressed.
The effects, however, cannot be released until the formalities required by the Regimental Debts Act have been complied with.
Yours sincerely
[signature] W. Jamison [\signature] F/O.
PP. Group Captain Commanding,
[underlined] R.A.F. Station, Oakington. [/underlined]
Mrs. T. Layne,
Stoneleigh,
Barroway High Road,
Grantham.
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
Letter to Wally Layne's wife from effects officer
Description
An account of the resource
Offers sympathy and informs her that her husband's personal effects would be despatched to the standing committee of adjustments at RAF Colnbrook.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
F W Jamison
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943-09-24
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One page typewritten letter
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Correspondence
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
EJamisonFWLAyneAJ430924
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Buckinghamshire
England--Grantham
England--Slough
England--Berkshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-09-24
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Robin Christian
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
missing in action
RAF Oakington
-
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”.
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FORWARD
Thomas Jones’s memoir gives a vivid description of life in a bomber squadron Pathfinder Fo9rce. The account of his experience as a Flight Engineer on operations in Stirling’s and Lancaster’s depicts the stresses, strains and comradeship of a bomber crew and the extent of a flight engineers tasks.
Very few crews survived as many as 64 bomber operations which Thomas Jones and crew achieved (my own contribution was 60 sorties) so his memoirs form an important contribution to the history of Bomber Command operations and it’s crews.
Wing Commander Philip Patrick MBE DFC
[622 Sqd. Crest] [7 Sqd. Crest]
Squadron crests reproduced by permission of the Secretary of State for Defence.
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I remember a happy childhood, firstly in central Birmingham then the southern district of Hall Green. I didn’t dislike school. My early teens were spent under the threat of war, which was declared when I was eighteen.
The blackout became a way of life for six long years. The nights spent in the air-raid shelter, my mother asking me to come away from the entrance where I was watching the havoc, into the deeper safety of that cold damp cell.
I recall the scream of falling bombs and the shudder of the earth on impact. The noise of the anti-aircraft guns firing a short distance away, like great iron doors slamming, and the hissing rush of the shells fading away as they sped up to the heavens and the German bombers. I remember my sister weeping quietly when it all got too much for her. The metallic tinkle of shell splinters as they rained down on roofs and road surfaces. The reflection of a hundred fires on the cloud as my city burned.
I was both fascinated and appalled at the effects of the nights bombing. On my way to work, at the BSA, in the early morning light I was stepping over the rubble of houses that had been hit by bombs during the night. Of one house a solitary wall left standing and on the bedroom mantelpiece a clock still showing the correct time. A house with no roof and a six-inch wide crack from eves to foundations, and not a window cracked. There was a double decker bus on Coventry Road, Small Heath, standing vertically on its bonnet.
I volunteered for aircrew duties in the RAF, the excitement and the boredom, the laughter and the comradeship the like of which is rarely experienced in civilian life. The songs and tunes of the period, each one associated with a particular time, a certain place or face.
Most of us who survived in one piece had an easy war compared to many others. No wounds, disfigurement or physical pain. No years of imprisonment torture disease, starvation and despair. That is why there is little pain for me to sit quietly, fifty years on, in that little room of memories going back down paths which divide and branch like blood vessels.
I was sent to RAF Cardington in September ’42, with its huge hangers where the great airships were built in the 1920s, for aircrew selection. I can easily recall the aircrew medical where everything was tested, examined, poked and prodded. There followed days of written, oral and aptitude tests. I remember the first time I entered the dining hall, the volume of the WAAF corporal’s voice reducing the occupants to silence, and the embarrassment on realising that the order to “put that bloody cigarette out” was directed at me. After four days home again to await my call-up papers, which I received a few weeks later.
And so in October to RAF Padgate with hours spent waiting in different rooms during induction. Being issued with my identity discs and service number, to be memorised and will be remembered for the rest of my life. Ask the service number of any ex-service man who enlisted all those years ago and he will recite it without the slightest hint of hesitation.
I remember the outstretched arms laden with clothing and equipment in the kitting out stores. The WAAF’s singing “Jealousy” in the station cinema as the little white ball bounced along the words on the screen. I recall the train journey to the Initial Training Wing (ITW) at Redcar on October 17th ‘42, and especially Mrs.Thatcher of 4 Richmond Road. Ken Battersby, Chas’ Curl and myself were billeted with her for six weeks and she looked after us like a mother hen. She made sure we were correctly dressed each morning when we went out on parade. She treated us as though we were her own sons.
The wind was icy on the sea front as we learned foot and rifle drill, fumbling with numbed fingers at the rifle bolt and rear sight. We did route marches and assault courses
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in full battle order, reaching the finish gasping for breath, with a supposedly wounded man across our shoulders.
I learned on the rifle range that a 303 when fired from the shoulder didn’t produce the crack as when heard from a distance. It produced a heavy numbing thud inside the head. The following day it would only take the sudden rustle of a newspaper to set the ears ringing again.
When we first arrived the command “attention” was followed by a noise like a load of house bricks falling off a lorry and a cry from the drill corporal “you dozy lot, wake up now, bags of swank”. At the passing out parade, six weeks later the same command produced a noise like a rifle shot. As we marched away along the promenade, rifles in line, heals crashing in unison, arms swinging shoulder high, we had what the corporal had wanted to see, “bags of swank”.
It was then to RAF Cosford in early December and the flight mechanics course. How young and eager we were, picking up the service slang and clichés. On arrival we were assigned to wooden huts with eight double tier bunks down each side, a plain wooden table with benches, and a small stove in the middle of the floor.
The first week of every entry was spent on fatigues. Peeling four-foot high piles of vegetables. After every meal the floors and tables of the vast dining halls had to be cleaned and polished. Guard duties, fetching and carrying, polishing and scrubbing. We were at everyone’s beck and call, but it was fair, every new intake did it.
Wednesday afternoons were spent on field exercises. Crawling through muddy fields and woods, everything involved mud and muck. Camouflage, grenade throwing, bayonet practice. Anti-gas procedure, groups of us standing in the gas chamber, and being given the order to remove our respirators to prove that the room really was full of gas, dashing out into the fresh air, coughing and spluttering, eyes streaming.
Wednesday nights were domestic nights and everyone was confined to barracks. Everything in the hut had to be cleaned and polished. Fire buckets and extinguishers, every inch of the floor space to be polished and sparkling, table and benches to be scrubbed. The last man coming out backwards the following morning polishing out the last footprints ready for the flight commander’s inspection. I remember the precision of kit inspection. Each bed laid out with equipment, each piece in its correct place and every bed identical to the next.
There were months of learning and cramming. Classrooms and hangers, engines and airframes. Aerodynamics, physics, mechanics. Hydraulics and pneumatics, fuel systems and carburation, airscrews, ignition systems and instruments. Maintenance manuals and countless other books. A seemingly endless number of subjects, all to be absorbed and remembered.
There were also the parades and the marching to and fro. The bugle calls at reveille and the PT sergeant stamping down the wooden floor of the hut banging each bunk with a pick-axe handle, shouting at the top of his voice “parade in fifteen minutes, last man out is on a week’s jankers”. And there was the dreaded Trade Test Board at the end of it all, and the feeling of great achievement on making the grade.
The next step on the ladder was to RAF St.Athan in April ’43 and the flight engineers course. Was it to be Stirling’s, Lancaster’s or Halifax’s? Oh youth and innocence, it was all great fun with little thought of the future.
We were billeted in the same type of wooden huts as at Cosford and did the same fatigues during the first week. Most of us had been together since ITW, a lot of us only eighteen, not many over twenty. The Scots lads, Tommy McMeachan, John Mullens, Jimmy
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Cruicshank and John Gartland all killed. Taffy Lightfoot and Roy Eames died over Bremen. Bill Curry shot down and killed whilst still training. There was also Albert Stocker, Arnold Hearne and Jack Walker. How many blurred faces on the edge of memory survived?
I was selected to train on the Short Stirling, the biggest of the four engine bombers of the time, eighty-seven feet long and twenty-eight feet high with the tail up. It had a fourteen tank fuel system with inter-wing and inter-engine balance cocks. Hercules XVI sleeve-valve engines with two speed superchargers and epicyclical reduction gears. The SU carburettors were the size of a car engine. The Stirling was renowned for being the electrician’s nightmare with its miles of electric wiring
There wasn’t a single subject or component part of the Stirling that we weren’t lectured on. After the intensive Trade Test Board examination I remember the brevets and chevrons being sewn on our tunics, the regulation button stick length from the shoulder seam. The young faces didn’t seem to match the rank and many of them wouldn’t survive to wear the flight sergeants crown.
[photograph]
Tom Jones, aged 22
RAF St. Athan, August 1943
And so, in July 1943, to 1657 Heavy Conversion Unit (HCU) at RAF Stradishall to be crewed up and to fly the aircraft we had been trained on. We were billeted in empty married quarters and reasonably comfortable but we soon discovered that they were directly in line with the main runway. All night long crews were practising circuits and landings and every few minutes an aircraft would roar overhead at fifty feet.
There is still another three weeks classroom work to do but now our instructors are not civilian technicians but veritable gods in our eyes, men who had completed a tour of thirty operations. There was no bravado about them but their eyes and faces showed a wealth of experience from which we were to benefit. When they lectured us we hung on their every word.
We were encouraged to visit the flight offices in our spare time, to get in as many flying hours as we could before being crewed up. I remember my first flight as a passenger. The pilot was a Canadian, flight sergeant Moore, who was still undergoing training. I’d always had the impression that an aircraft, once off the ground, flew straight
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and level. How wrong I was! We reached the dispersal and this great black monster and I climbed aboard with the crew, I had a few misgivings. Would I be airsick, would the height affect me? Some people couldn’t climb a ladder, and I had never been higher than the inside of a bedroom window.
We taxied to the runway, hesitated and then began the mad dash toward the other end. The aircraft’s thirty tons lifted off the runway and promptly began to sway from side to side and up and down, the wings actually flapped! The engines were nodding as if in mutual agreement on some topic of conversation. Looking down the fuselage toward the rear turret I could see the whole structure was twisting back and forth. I looked out of the window, a patchwork of fields, tiny houses and on our port quarter the airfield with its three intersecting runways. The height didn’t bother me at all but the continuous movement did. After ten minutes I quietly disgraced myself by being airsick. I, subsequently, flew over 300 hours before my stomach finally settled down.
Later, on the squadron, it became the practice for the ground crew to provide me with an empty tin every time we flew, daring me to make a mess in their spotless aircraft. This saved me from bankruptcy as squadron lore dictated that anyone sick on the floor of an aircraft had to pay the groundcrew to clean it up.
I was talking with a group of engineers in the mess, when an Australian flight sergeant pilot approached asking for me. He introduced himself as Fred Phillips and said that I was to be his engineer. A former insurance clerk from East St. Kilda, Melbourne and twenty years old. He was destined to be awarded the DFC before he reached twenty-one and awarded Bar for his DFC before his twenty second birthday. He introduced me to the rest of the crew. Dave Goodwin navigator, and Clive “thirsty” Thurston bomb-aimer, both New Zealanders. The gunners were Ron Wynne from Hyde Cheshire and Joe Naylor, known as John by everyone, from the village of Wymondham near Melton Mowbray. The wireless operator was another Australian, Stan Williamson from Punchbowl, Sydney.
Our first flight as a crew, on August 29th 1943, was a familiarisation, getting the feel of the aircraft. There were circuits and landings, during daylight and the same at night, over and over again until the different drills and check became automatic. We did three and two engined procedures, cross country flights and bombing practice. We flew 34 hours together, at RAF Stradishall, and were granted “fit for operations”. In my log book was entered my certificate, qualified to fly as flight engineer in Short Stirling’s Mk I and III.
On September 2nd ’43 we were posted to 622 squadron, at RAF Mildenhall. On arrival we spotted our first operational aircraft. It was parked in front of the flying control tower after landing from an operation the previous night. As we approach we could see it was punctured with jagged holes and the rear turret was a mass of battered twisted metal. Dried blood everywhere, a glove, a tuft of hair and a piece of jawbone with teeth still attached lay on the turret floor.
That night in the mess we asked how long it took to complete a tour of thirty operations. No one had ever known a crew that had finished a tour. I realised that we had reached the point where we were expected to pay, in kind, the cost of our training.
When we made up our beds that night no thought was given to who the previous occupant had been. We quickly learned that close friendships were not formed with other crews. A passing joke or a civil word sufficed. New faces appeared, sometimes for a few days, or a week or two, to disappear and be replaced by others. Their passing marked by a visit from the committee of adjustment to clear out their lockers and return personal property to next of kin. Their names rarely mentioned again. Morale gained nothing from speculation. Had it been quick as with a direct hit with flak, or a scrambling dash to get out
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of a blazing aircraft? A human torch falling to earth with mouth wide, in a silent scream of pain and horror? Forget it quickly! Do not dwell.
I remember there was always laughter and high spirits in the mess, we learned to laugh about flak and fighters, searchlights and crashes. If a pilot bragged about his good landings no one disagreed with him. Inevitably the day came when he misjudged it and bounced down the runway like a kangaroo. His life was made a misery for the next week. Every time he entered the mess all the pilots present deferred to him and wished they possessed his skill. Stories of silly mishaps did the rounds.
An aircraft on its take-off run had reached 85 knots when the pilot cleared his throat. The engineer, thinking he had asked for wheels up selected same and they finished up on their belly astride the railway lines two hundred yards beyond the runways end. This escapade earned an unofficial commendation on the mess notice board.
Flying whilst suffering with a head cold was discouraged as it led to sinus and inner ear problems. One lad had to report sick with a heavy cold and immediately a rumour was circulating that he knew the squadron was about to attack Berlin or Essen and was reporting sick to get out of it. This sort of thing happened all the time, but it was never vindictive, the victim enjoying the joke as much as anyone.
On an operational squadron the learning still went on, each of us learning something of the others jobs and duties. Ditching and parachute drills were carried out regularly when we weren’t flying, timing ourselves to see how many seconds it took us to get out. Bombing practice; cross country exercises in atrocious weather when visibility was less than the length of the runway. Flying in rain, snow and icing conditions.
There was also fighter affiliation, to practice the corkscrew. With the guns the bombers only defence against fighters, it was essential that we practice this manoeuvre with the help of Fighter Command. I recall the Spitfire’s curving arc of attack and the rear gunners call to “corkscrew port, go”. The horizon almost vertical, then swiftly up and to starboard over the cockpit canopy. Everyone hanging on tightly to the front edge of their seats, so as not to hit the roof. The feeling of weightlessness as the aircraft plunged away in a steep diving turn, the earth in front of the windscreen rotating clockwise as we lost height, the call “roll her, roll her”. The pilot pulling back on the stick to put us into a steep climbing turns to starboard. Again the mad dance of earth and sky, the gravitational forces pressing the body down and draining blood from the head; the cheeks and the mouth falling open. The relief as the fighter breaks off the attack, the earth and sky sliding back into place as we level off and assume course, and await the next attack.
It was during fighter affiliation that we discovered how manoeuvrable the giant Stirling was in flight. It was more agile than some aircraft a quarter of its size. However, it was a beast when manoeuvring on the ground.
Our first operation had been to lay sea-mines in the Katigat, a solo aircraft operation with a naval officer on board to trigger the mines. The next night Hannover, having to divert to RAF Tangmere on return due to flak damage to number 7 fuel tank. Two nights later mine laying in the Skaggerak; then Hannover again, Kassel, Ludwigshafen and Berlin. On these first op.’s we came back only three times on all four engines.
My station, when flying in Stirling’s, was at the front main spar of the wings where it passed through the fuselage, and I consequently saw little of what went on outside. The view from the astrodome was limited so when things were running smoothly I would go forward to the cockpit for ten minutes or so to have a look out.
I shall never forget the cloudscapes, climbing through thousands of feet of dark grey nothingness to emerge into a vivid blue sky with a floor of dazzling white stretching to the
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horizon in all directions. Flying along great canyons between the cliffs of cumulus. There was also nimbus, the cloud most respected by all airmen, with its anvil shaped head towering to altitudes we could never hope to reach. Flying through nimbus had us hanging on grimly as the aircraft is flung around by the air currents, us fearing that the wings would be torn off. There were continuous lightening flashes. The propeller arcs alive like Catherine wheels, and lightening cracking back and forth along the wireless aerials and guns. The tremendous energy generate4d within nimbus clouds is unnerving when experienced for the first time.
the sunsets were always beautiful with the changing colours of the clouds. From the brilliance of polished brass, to rose, pink, bronze, purple, and finally to black. All within a short time, but always warm. Dawns were different, they were cold. During the long boring flight home the first greying in the east would silhouette the swaying tail of the aircraft. The horizon slivers of grey-green light.even the first rays of the sun were always cold.
622 Squadron converted to Lancaster’s in November 1943. While the pilots and engineers were lectured by the engineer leader, two pilots were seconded to a Lancaster squadron for a few hours flying instruction then returned to instruct us. Flying in Lancaster’s meant that my station was next to the pilot. Five hours of training flights and we were away again. my logbook made up, qualified to fly as flight engineer in Lancaster Mk’s I and III.
Our bombing sorties took us to Berlin again, Schweinfurt, and twice to Stuttgart. By now we were one of the most experienced crews on the squadron and were selected to train for the elite Pathfinder Force.
We were sent to the Navigation Training Unit at RAF Warboys in March ’44. The bomb-aimer did a course on H2S equipment while I attended lectures on the bomb-site and bomb aiming. During our free evenings the navigator, Dave Goodwin, taught me how to use the bubble sextant and we spent several clear nights picking out the constellations and their stars. Dheneb, Altair, Betelgeux, Alderbaran, Arcturus, and a dozen more. From then on I had to take the sextant shots from the astrodome. We also attended lectures on pyrotechnics and target marking techniques. After nine hours of flying and six practice bombs on the range we were posted to 7 Squadron at RAF Oakington, near Cambridge, on April 2nd.
On arrival we discovered that the squadron C/Owing Commander Rampling had just been killed during a night raid. He was replaced by Wing Commander Guy Lockhart, aged just 27. He was killed four weeks later and replaced by Reggie Cox.
As a Pathfinder crew we were expected to complete two tours of thirty op.’s each with no rest period. Main force procedure was one tour of thirty op’s, six months rest as an instructor, then recall for another tour.
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[photograph]
The pilot would inform us “we are on the order of battle” and the butterflies in the stomach would begin to flutter their wings. They were always there, at the beginning because we didn’t know what to expect, and on subsequent op.’s because we did know. In those days it was a sign of weakness to admit fear but you could tell it was there. Normally quiet lads would chatter incessantly while the extrovert would withdraw inside himself. Others developed little quirks that they never had until their names were on the order of battle.
We would go out to the aircraft to carry out our inspections etc. then to the mess for lunch, but a ban on drinks at the bar. The aircraft would be take [sic] up for a night flying test to iron out any last minute snags. If it was a late briefing a couple of hours in bed, spreading a white towel over the blanket at the foot of the bed to indicate you require waking.
We would be woken with a torch shining on the face, a hand shaking the shoulder, and a voice saying “it’s time to get up”. Sitting on the edge of the bed, head sagging, desperately trying to wake up fully; while someone fumbles about in the dark, cursing, seeking the light switch. Little is said as we walk to the ablutions to wash and visit the toilets. A call of nature during a flak barrage could cause extreme embarrassment.
The pre-flight meal is usually something recommended by the aviation medicine people. A fried greasy dish, which is always disastrous for someone like me with an already queasy stomach, or baked beans which create gas and excruciating stomach pains as the atmospheric pressure falls as we climb to our cruising altitude.
I remember the pre-flight briefings and the walk past the armed guard at the door. The long room filled with trestle tables and benches, each one occupied by a crew. At the end a low stage and almost the entire wall covered by a huge map of Europe, for security reasons behind drawn curtains. A thick swathe of tobacco smoke hangs in the air. Everyone stands as the C/O arrives and the ritual begins.
The curtains covering the wall map are withdrawn and the target announced. A low murmur of voices rises from the assembled crews. Red tapes pinned to the map mark the route from base to the target and back, doglegged to squeeze between the ominous red patches which denote heavily defended areas, avoiding all but one, the target.
The intelligence officer is the first to take the stage with the latest information on the target, factories and products, railway yards etc. The state of the defences and positions of the night fighter stations along the route.
The navigation officer holds the stage for the longest period of time, going over the route. Times of take-off and set course, time and position of course changes rendezvous
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with the aircraft of other groups. “H” hour and the type of markers used, Parramatta, Newhaven or Wanganui. Codes, colours etc. and the inevitable time check. Each leader, in turn, taking the stage to divulge information relative to his section. Bomb aimers, gunners, engineers and wireless.
The Met. man with his charts, cloud information and prospects in the target area. Barometric pressures, temperatures, icing conditions and weather at base on return. The latter always bringing a burst of sardonic laughter from the crews but it was usually taken in good part, even on occasions eliciting a wry smile from the met. man himself.
The whole proceedings coming to a close with a few words from the C/O on the importance of a successful attack.
At a table at the other end of the room the adjutant is accepting the pocket contents of the crews. Wallets, loose change, last letters, even used bus and cinema tickets. All are placed in separate drawstring linen bags and tagged with the owners name rank and number, to be reclaimed on return. It never occurred to me to write a last letter. Was I that confident or thoughtless? On reflection, it must have been the latter.
The walk to the locker room is quiet and leisurely, different to the atmosphere in side. A noisy confusion of men and equipment, loud jocular remarks and laughter sounding a little forced. “Can I have your fried breakfast if you don’t come back?” “Yes, but what makes you think that you are coming back?” It all sounds so cruel and heartless now, but no one ever took exception to this type of banter.
While the gunners get into their heavy outer flying clothes, the rest of us don Mae West and parachute harness, pick up flying helmet, parachute pack and gloves. A WAAF driver would come to the door and shout “crew transport”.
All the WAAF’s I ever met were very efficient and went out of their way to be helpful and pleasant. Most of them could, with a smile, deflate the ego of a too adventurous lad, much to the delight of all present.
Several waiting crews clamber aboard with much scuffling of flying boots, and we begin the journey round the perimeter track to the dispersal points. There is a marked decrease in laughter and conversation now. The coach arrives at the first dispersal, “G-George” calls the driver, and a crew disembark under the nose of their aircraft. With a few mutters of good luck they slouch away. We drive on to “A-Able” and then us “O-Oboe”. We climb out of the coach, and with a wave from the WAAF driver, it draws away. This is when the butterflies in the stomach are at their worst. I pick up my gear and walk with the crew to the tail of the aircraft.
There is no ground crew to be seen. At any other time they would be laughing and joking with us, but not now. They will remain in their rough dispersal hut until we climb aboard before they emerge to prime the engines when we start up. No rules of security will be breached by them asking the name of the target, although they will have a good idea from the fuel and bomb load. They have seen it all with so many crews before we joined the squadron.
Aerodromes, in pictures and films, are mostly depicted as idyllic places. And so they are in Summer, the heat rising in shimmering waves over vast flat areas of grass and wild flowers and everything alive with birdsong. They rarely show the same scene in late autumn or winter, when the grass surrounding the dispersal has been churned up by vehicles into a sea of mud; which in the January frost is turned into ankle breaking ruts. These are the conditions ground crew work in, no protection against driving rain snow and bitter winds; the engine fitters and mechanics working fifteen or twenty feet above the ground on swaying gantries. They grumble and curse but all aircrew have great confidence
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in their skill and dedication. They take great pride in maintaining the cleanest and most efficient aircraft on the squadron, and woe betide anyone that bends it. The aircraft belongs to them, the aircrew only borrow it.
While the rest of the crew stood talking I would start my pre-flight checks. Tail unit control surfaces and tail wheel. Up the port side checking fuselage and wing surfaces, all engine cowlings in place and secure, pitot head cover removed. Examine undercarriage struts and also extensions for oil leaks. Trolley acc’. plugged in, tyres for damage and creep. Check bomb load and target indicators. Down the starboard side to the main door, static vent plugs removed. Inside now. How many times have I felt my way up and down the fuselage with eyes tightly closed so that I could locate every component in the dark? I had to be able to find every fire axe, extinguisher, field dressing and the morphia, portable oxygen bottle, intercom, and oxygen connections. As well as being able to put my hand on every hydraulic, pneumatic and electrical component, know what it did, how it worked, and what in-flight repairs I could carry out. I would also check fuel contents and oxygen supply. These careful checks were meticulously carried out prior to every flight. It was the drill and the ground crew accepted that it did not reflect on their efficiency.
I rejoin the crew outside. There is nothing to do now but wait, and still forty minutes to go before we climb aboard. We smoke one cigarette after another. Everyone wants to be off and to get the job done. We all want to be able to do something, anything, but wait. The airfield is strangely silent, save for the feint whining of a three-ton truck on the perimeter track over a mile away. A rook can be heard crowing in a distant copse.
A car turns into the dispersal and pulls up under the wing. The Wing Commander alights and has a word with the pilot. Satisfied that all is well he wishes us good luck and drives on to the next dispersal. At intervals other cars arrive with the section leaders, each checking that there are no snags. Then the Padre and Medical Officer arrive. The M/O offers us caffeine and airsickness capsules. And all the time the butterflies in the stomach keep up their constant flutter.
Ten minutes to go and time for the rear gunner to get into his turret. With so much bulky clothing he needs help to get in, so one of us pushes him in on his back feet first. We stand outside his turret talking to him through the clear-vision panel.
A few stutters then a steady roar follow the distant whine of a starter motor as an aircraft begins to start up. The pilot checks his watch and says, “time to go”. We say “see you later” to the rear gunner and make our way to the main door, throw in our gear, and climb the ladder in turn, the last man aboard stowing the ladder and securing the door.
There follows the uphill walk to the cockpit, leaning forward against the angle of the floor. Then the overpowering petrol fumes as we climb over the main spar in the centre section. On reaching our seats the pilot and I continue our checks. Flying controls free and working full range, undercarriage warning lights showing green. Brake pressure ok. Propeller pitch, fully fine. Number two fuel tanks on. Radiator flaps to override, superchargers in moderate gear.
The ground crew has appeared, two men climbing precariously up the undercarriage struts into the nacelles where the Ki-gas pumps are situated. With the pilot operating the ignition switches and starter buttons, and myself the slow running idle cut-off switches and throttle levers we start the engines in sequence from port outer to starboard outer. Trolley acc’ plug disconnected and jettisoned, ground flight switch to flight. A short period with engines at 1200 revs to allow them to warm up, then run up each in turn to full power, checking rpm, boost pressure setting and magneto levels. I select bomb-doors closed, a last look around the cockpit instruments and “ok, chocks away”.
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On receiving the hand signal a man on each side of the aircraft runs forward to drag away the heavy wooden chocks at the end of their ropes. With a hiss of released brakes and a burst of power from the engines we are guided out of the dispersal to join the squadron, the ground crew turning their backs to the gale of dust and flying debris.
A squadron of Lancaster’s taxing out to take off is an impressive sight. Each aircraft weighing twenty-eight tons they move round the perimeter track, nose to tail, like great ducks. With up to a hundred Merlin engines roaring and breaks [sic] hissing and squealing they taxi past at up to 30mph. The noise laden air vibrates against the face and the ground trembles.
A small farm cottage on the edge of the airfield is occupied by a young married couple who always stand at their garden gate with a child in their arms as we go by. All the crews return the little girl’s wave, the gunners raising and lowering their guns. Over fifty years later I can still see that little face, surrounded by light curls, laughing, in spite of the noise and clamour.
As we pass the flying control tower, with the silent watching figures on the surrounding balcony, we glimpse the duty controller whose voice we hear over the radio.
I apply twenty-five degrees of flap, then, close the jettison valves and all balance cocks. Elevator trim two degrees nose heavy.
We join the queue at the end of the runway, moving up like cars in a traffic jam as aircraft take off. A burst of power to the engines, now and then, to prevent the plugs oiling up on the rich fuel mixture. A close watch on the temperature, as the engines quickly overheat at idle revs.
The butterflies in the stomach are beginning to subside now there is something to occupy the mind.
The aircraft in front of us is well down the runway as we turn onto the threshold, line up and come to a stop. The green Aldis signal light, at the chequered caravan, dazzles as the final checks are completed. Fuel boost pumps on. Barometric pressure set on the altimeter. Engine temperature and pressure ok. Radiator flaps to automatic. Compasses set to runway bearing. Cockpit windows closed.
The pilot settles himself comfortably in his seat and says, “right, all set” and opens the throttles to 2,000 revs. The cockpit becomes a vibrating Bedlam of noise, the aircraft straining against the brakes. From the corner of my eye I glimpse the fluttering white hankies of the off duty WAAFs who always assemble to wave each aircraft off.
With a sharp hiss the brakes are off, and we begin to roll forward. Steadily the pilot advances the throttles, jiggling them to keep the nose straight. The nose dips as the tail comes up, revealing the runway lights tapering almost to a point 2,000 yards ahead. “They are yours,” says the pilot, who now has rudder control, and I take over the throttle levers. Smoothly up through the gate and on to full power, 3,000 revs and 12lbs. boost. The noise of the four Merlin’s at full power is deafening and normal speech is impossible, even shouting through cupped hands directly into an ear is useless. The rumble of the wheels, felt rather than heard, is added to the world of noise. Halfway down the runway, and the gap between the two end runway lights grows at an alarming rate. 80 knots, then 90. The wheel rumble fades slightly as the wings begin to flex on the increasing cushion of air, the tyres skipping in long hops. 105 knots. The pilot crouches forward in concentration, eases the stick back and with a final bounce we are airborne. The runway lights flash by thirty feet below and we are clear of the boundary hedge. I lift the undercarriage selection levers and as the wheels start to retract two reds replace the two green lights on the indicator. With a slight clunck [sic] the wheels are up and the two reds wink out.
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Speed builds quickly as the pilot holds the nose down. At 165 knots he asks for climbing power and I adjust pitch and throttle levers to give 2,600 revs plus 6lbs boost as we climb away into the growing dusk. At 5,000 feet I lift flaps, the pilot correcting trim as the nose drops.
After the exhilaration of take-off the necessary chatter, over the intercom, dies away and everyone settles down to their individual routines.
I start to fill in my log, a time consuming process with the engine and aircraft details to record. With a full fuel load of 2,154 gallons, an engineer’s calculations must be accurate to within ten gallons; checked against remaining fuel on return to base. Gauges are only used to check for leaks.
After setting course on time over base we cross the coast at Cromer on the shoulder of Norfolk, still climbing. The gunners test their guns into the sea and after a short stuttering burst the smell of cordite wafts into the fuselage.
At ten thousand feet I turn on the oxygen supply. There is a chill in the air now as the temperature continues to fall. At near freezing on the ground it will be about minus twenty-five degrees at 18,000 feet.
Boost pressure and the rate of climb begin to fall off and I reach out to select full supercharge. There is a distinct clunck from all four engines as the higher gear is engaged and with the renewed surge of power we continue to climb.
“We’ll be crossing the enemy coast in three minutes” reports the navigator, and ten miles ahead there’s the reception committee. When we reach that position the pretty red twinkles in the sky will be flashes and explosions, near misses heard above the constant roar of the engines. The blast buffeting the aircraft and sending shell splinters through the thin skin of wings and fuselage.
We begin to weave and stars trace a figure of eight above the cockpit canopy. It’s like being on a big dipper and will continue until we cross the coast on our way home. The coastal flak is left behind and on reaching optimal height I reset revs and boost to cruising power, each engine reducing its fuel consumption to about forty-three gallons an hour.
Apart from the stars and the green glow of the instruments the night is black. The pilot, sat inches from my left shoulder is just a dark shadow. Our eyes straining to see the elusive faint blur that will indicate the presence of another aircraft. If it can be seen it is too close for safety and will have to be watched continuously to avoid collision. We’ll move away if it is ahead of us, many gunners open fire at anything creeping up astern of them, friend or foe.
Suspended three and a half miles above the earth it is possible to fly to Berlin and back without seeing another aircraft or feeling their slipstreams, although there could be several hundred in the stream. Another time the sky would be full of them.
To starboard and ahead a line of fighter flares light up the sky with a misty yellow glow, like someone running along a corridor switching lights on as they go. Immediately the guns are trained to port, the dark side, from where the attack will come. We drone forever along the wall of light, silhouetted, waiting for the hail of tracer. As we pass the last flare darkness closes in again, but the fighters are still with us.
Far ahead a green flare bursts and hangs in the sky, red stars dripping from it at six[1]second intervals. Placed by leading pathfinders the flare marks an accurate turning point for the main force. Ten minutes on the final leg from this point will bring them to the target area. The navigator confirms its accuracy as we round it.
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I check the engine instruments and fuel status. Nothing can be seen ahead, everything is black, and the navigator starts the countdown to “H” hour.
The bomb aimer turns his bombsight on, ensures the bombs are fused, and checks the selector and distribution boards. He feeds the necessary information into the bombsights ‘magic box’ and checks the responses to various settings. Dead on time the Blind Illuminators release their flares, row on row, as if each one is placed on the squares on a chessboard. A great floating carpet of light exposes the ground far below.
Still no defences to be seen, but they will be there loaded and aimed. Lying low and not giving anything away until they know we are certain of our position.
The Primary Markers will be making their run-in now, their bomb aimers searching for the aiming point. The target indicator bursts, releasing its contents which form a giant Christmas tree of the most brilliant red as they fall. A second pass as the Master Bomber closely circles the indicator to assess its accuracy. Finally over the RT comes his verdict “hello tonnage, the reds are ok, bomb the reds”. The complete marking process has taken about three minutes from the first illuminator flare being dropped to permission to bomb. Almost immediately the leading main force aircraft are over and sticks of high explosive and incendiary bombs are falling across the target.
By now the defences have opened fire and the sky directly ahead has become a wall of bursting shells and weaving searchlights.
We enter the flak barrage and the familiar sound of shell splinters ripping through the fuselage can be heard.
Two hundred feet below us an aircraft, with a wing on fire, lazily turns over and goes into a spin. Its crew will be fighting for their lives against the centrifugal force pinning them in their seats. No parachutes appear. We look away as they hurtle to earth and a sure end. Who were they, did we know them. Will we be next?
The target is now a bubbling carpet of fires and bursting bombs. From below light flak is coming up in a trelliswork of slow graceful curves; string upon string of balls of coloured light, deceptively beautiful until they reach you and flash by like the most deadly lightening.
Above and ahead an aircraft is caught in the intersection of three blinding searchlight beams, twisting, turning and diving as it’s clobbered by its own personal barrage.
The flak gets more intense as we get nearer the aiming point. The bomb aimer crouches over the bombsight to assess the rate at which we are approaching the target. Start the run too early and we are vulnerable in straight level flight for longer than necessary.
As the bomb doors are opened the aircraft stops weaving and begins to shudder as the slipstream enters the bomb bay and batters at the doors. The aiming point appears half way down the long arm of the graticule and the primary red indicator is burning itself out and beginning to fade. The bomb aimer can be heard over the intercom guiding the pilot onto the target; “left, left steady, right, steady, steady”. The aiming point creeps agonisingly along the graticule to the cross section. “Now”, his thumb presses down hard on the release button, “bombs gone”. Each bomb is felt as it leaves the aircraft, and there is an upward surge as the 4,000lb ‘cookie’ goes along with the green target indicator. The bomb aimer will look through the clear vision panel in the front bomb bay bulkhead to check that all our bombs have gone. The bomb doors close as he climbs back to the cockpit.
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We begin to weave again. Some seconds later the voice of the Master Bomber comes over the RT, “bomb the greens”. The knowledge that we have paved the way for hundreds of tons of bombs is pushed to the back of our minds.
After the confines of concentration on the bomb run I become aware again of what is happening around us. The world is a mad man’s worst nightmare of colour, noise and explosions. The photoflashes dropped with each bomb load create a continuous flicker like summer lightening. Undersides of aircraft reflect the red glow of the firestorm more the three miles below. We seem to hang motionless under a ghostly grey dome of light. Light enough to see the bombs in gaping bomb bays, and see them tumble past from higher aircraft. Bursting shells surrounds us, bursting too rapidly to count. The only sign of progress across the target area is the lazy slipping backward of thinning balls of smoke as the flak ceaselessly hammers at us. After what seems an eternity, but in reality about eight minutes, the flak begins to abate and darkness closes in again as the target slowly falls astern.
The pilot calls up each crewmember in turn checking for casualties. I connect a portable oxygen bottle and walk the length of the fuselage checking for damage; Ron the mid-upper gunner complains that the light from my dimmed torch is reflecting on the Perspex of his turret and attracting night fighters. I reply that if there is a hole in the floor I want to see it before I drop through. On the next op’ he’ll make the same complaint and I will give the same reply, it has become a ritual performed every time we leave the target area.
Regaining my seat I reset engine power to lower our airspeed to 155 knots. This will increase the flying time of our homeward journey but will economise on fuel at our reduced weight.
I soon begin to feel hungry but know if I eat the sickly-sweet Fry’s Chocolate Cream bar I’ll bring it up again in minutes. The small tins of orange or tomato juice are frozen solid; it’s probably just as well with the constant weaving. I will resort to sucking one of the barley sugar sweets I keep in my pocket to get some saliva back into my dry mouth and throat. What would I do for a cigarette?
A burst of tracer stitches its way across the darkness a short distance away on the starboard beam. Seconds later a twinkling star, level with our wingtip, gets bigger and longer like a comet. Some one’s luck has just run out. The small comet becomes a wild blaze and begins to curve downwards, followed by a plume of red as it hits the ground.
Our eyes feel tired and gritty as we peer into the night, the journey endless. There follows hour after hour with no sensation of speed or progress, broken up by taking regular sextant shots from the astrodome for the navigator, and doing constant calculations of fuel consumption to relieve the monotony. In the back of all our minds is the thought that an unseen fighter may have our blip on his radar screen and is creeping up on us from behind and below.
“The coast is coming up,” says the navigator “we can start letting down now”. I reduce the engine power and the altimeter starts to unwind. There is a faint horizon to the east but we will be safely over the sea when day breaks. Below 10,000 feet I turn off the oxygen supply and unclip my mask, which has been chafing for hours. We weave through the coastal flak belt and a measure of safety is reached, skimming at fifty feet above the grey heaving mass of the North Sea.
A line of cliffs appear on the horizon and with a nod the pilot eases the stick back and we clear the cliff top with feet to spare.
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Almost dead ahead, in the early morning light, a solitary figure follows a horse and harrow. Hearing our approach he moves to the horses head to take the bridle, the horse stamping its forelegs and flinging its head high. As we hammer past at little more than hedge height the figure raises an arm. Is it a friendly wave or a clenched fist on behalf of the terrified horse? We will never know, nor will we know how many times he has done that this morning as hundreds of aircraft follow the same track home.
The horizon tilts as we turn onto the final course for base, gain a little height, and the spire of All Saints church, Longstanton, begins to come into view. We join the circuit at 1,200 feet and request permission to land. From the control tower the friendly voice of the duty controller is clear, “hello, O-oboe, you are clear to pancake, runway 040, wind 026, 7 knots”.
On the up wind leg. Pitch fully fine, 25° of flap, fuel boost pumps on, brake pressure ok. We reduce speed and altitude as we turn to port on the cross wind leg. Downwind now, and an airspeed of 135 knots. Wheels down and the two red lights appear on the indicator panel, to be replaced by two greens as the undercarriage locks down. As we enter the funnel at 800 feet, the runway stretching out ahead and below; my stomach registering the rate of descent. At 500 feet the pilot applies full flap and I begin to call out the airspeed and altitude. We cross the boundary hedge at 10 feet and 110 knots. The pilot checks back on the stick to round out as I pull the throttle levers right back to the stops. With a scream and two puffs of smoke from the tyres we are down and rumbling along the runway, the engines popping and muttering quietly until I return them to idle speed as we clear the runway.
We taxi to the dispersal point and the waiting ground crew guides us into position, and with the chocks in place the pilot and I go through the shut- down procedure. As the last propeller comes to a jerky stop a deathly silence descends. We push our flying helmets back off our heads and sit for a few seconds listening to the faint whine of the instrument gyros slowing down. There is a feeling of great weariness, of being totally drained.
The rest of the crew is already out of the aircraft; we join them and light a cigarette, the first drag harsh to the dry throat. Our legs and inner ears trying to adapt to the firm ground again. One of the ground crew, at my shoulder, enquires about damage. He seems to be speaking from twenty feet away, his voice weak and distant after the roar of the last seven hours.
Transport arrives, and after leaving our gear at the locker room we carry on for interrogation. Just inside the room is a smiling WAAF dispensing strong sweet tea, from a large urn; and beside her the padre with a large box of cigarettes and a bottle of rum with which to top up our mugs. While waiting for a table to be vacated I take the opportunity to complete my log by calculating the air and track miles per gallon of fuel. I arrive at the figure 0.9mpg. We occupy a table as a crew leaves and the intelligence officer reaches for a fresh report sheet. We go through the trip from take-off to landing. He needs to record our timing, bombing accuracy and concentration. Enemy defences and fighter opposition. Times and positions of aircraft we witnessed go down. When we can tell him no more we leave and walk slowly to the mess for a meal.
I remember the fresh smell of damp earth and mown grass and the chill breeze on my face after the hours of wearing a stuffy oxygen mask.
In the mess the cheery WAAF’s behind the serving hatch ask us if we had a good trip, we would reply “yes thanks, piece of cake”. If you came back it was always a piece of cake.
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Breakfast was two slices of Spam, a fried egg and lots of dry bread. I always had to force my breakfast down. All I wanted to do was sleep, but I knew that once in bed I wouldn’t be able to for some time. I would lay there unwinding, listening to everyone else restlessly tossing and turning. When sleep did come it wasn’t a gentle drifting away but a sudden cutting off of thoughts and feelings, like a door slamming shut.
Later that same morning, at the Flight Office, we would learn that we were on that night’s order of battle and the butterflies in the stomach would begin their fluttering all over again.
And so it went on Dortmund, Rennes, Aachen, Berlin, Lille, Duisburg, Amien, Hamburg, Kiel, Stuttgart, Emden and many, many more.
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I have a vivid memory of our last operation, on September 10th 1944. We had returned from an attack on German positions at Le Havre at 7am, and were on the order of battle to go again that afternoon. Just before take-off we were informed that this was to be our final op’ and we were being stood down.
On our return we approached base in a long shallow dive to beat up the airfield. At 200 knots we thundered along the runway at zero feet to pull up hard at the far end, the g forces pulling down the flesh of our cheeks and the lower lids from our eyes. This manoeuvre was strictly forbidden; but surely everyone must have felt on return from their last op’ the same jubilation and relief as the tension fell away. We had been a crew for a year, had flown 450 hours together and completed 64 operations without a rest period. We had done it, beaten the odds, and joined an exclusive club.
After landing, and a mild rebuke from the tower who must have understood, the grins on the faces of the ground crew were as broad as our own. Our backs were pounded until they were sore; few crews survived that many missions together.
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We celebrated that night with the ground crew at The Hoops Inn at Longstanton. The night was at our expense as a token of our appreciation. It was well worth the two days of hangover.
We had flown Op’s all Summer. I seem to remember many crews adopting a diet of beer, cherries and strawberries, the latter cadged from the land-girl’s at Chiver’s orchards at Histon. This was also the time of the great beer shortage, the only time in the history of England when crews were drinking it faster than it could be brewed. When not flying of course.
These were the days and times of such as Jonnie Denis, James Frazer-Barron, Alan Craig, Brian Frow, Tubby Baker, Ted Pearmaine, Eddie Edwards, Robbie Roberts, Brian Foster, Gerry South, Flash McCullough and so on. Remarkable days and remarkable men, I wonder what became of them.
Great times we had together. We were like brothers sharing our last cigarette or sixpence. Off duty rank meant nothing and we were all on first name terms, but we all knew where to draw the line between respect and over familiarity. Life was one big round of merriment, pranks and youthful high spirits; but once aboard the aircraft we were as sober as judges. Drills and checks were carried out to the letter and nothing ever left to chance. At no time was there idle chatter over the intercom, not even when we were flying for pleasure.
[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”.
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On one Berlin trip we were forced down by ice from 19,000 feet to 8,000 feet. We had to throw out all the ammunition and any non-essential items to try and lighten the aircraft. Waiting for the order to abandon aircraft, I remember clearly saying quietly “don’t cry Mom when you get the telegram”. Luckily we ran out of the icing area at 8,500 feet and managed to get back to base so late that they had given up on us. I don’t know what I would have said to the crew if my microphone had been switched on at that particular time. I think that was the closest we ever got to meeting our maker.
I think we had been to Berlin when we had to land at the first airfield we came to on the way back. The three engines still running had cut out through lack of fuel ten feet above the runway coming in to West Malling. The aircraft landed very heavily, the undercarriage gave way and we slid along the runway causing serious damage. With our bumps and bruises, we had to return to Mildenhall by train via London. We got some very odd looks in London and on the train as the only clothes we had was our flying gear.
I later discovered that this 746 aircraft Op’ was the last in which Stirlings (which we were flying) were used over Germany.
Leaving Karlsruhe we were attacked by night fighters and during the twisting and turning of evasive action the navigator lost our precise position. After flying on a rough course for some time he found out where we were when we flew alone over Strasbourg and into a heavy barrage of accurate predicted flak. The next morning we went out to the aircraft, and starting at the tail, counted eighty-seven holes between the rear and the mid[1]upper turret before we decided to stop counting. The rest of the aircraft and wings were equally peppered with jagged holes. We had used up a little more luck from our reserve.
I recall one occasion returning from a daylight op’ with a full bomb load and bouncing badly on landing. “Round again” shouted the pilot and I opened the throttles to full power. We roared across the grass at an angle to the runway directly toward the Longstanton church. The pilot coaxed every inch of height from the aircraft as the church loomed closer every second and flashed beneath us with inches to spare. Looking down I saw the villagers scattering. A child standing in the lane staring up at us screaming with fright at our sudden appearance and deafening noise. A woman wearing an apron, running to scoop up the child in her bare arms and racing to safety. Farm animals stampeding in the nearby fields. It all registered on the mind in the second or two we were over the village. After landing the rear gunner said, jokingly, that if we had warned him he could have leaned out of his turret and removed the steeples weather vane as a souvenir.
We once endured the long weary drag of nine hours to Stettin, in Poland. The navigator recording, over the target, an air temperature of minus forty-nine degrees. The inside of our aircraft feeling little warmer. That night must have been the coldest of my life.
We were half heartedly shot at over Sweden. As Sweden was a neutral country it had no need for the blackout suffered by Europe and so I saw for the first time an illuminated city from the air. It looked like a giant dew covered spiders web.
We were coned by searchlights several times and came back with the scars to prove it, the shell splinter holes and the night fighters trade marks.
On a raid to Stuttgart the main door lock broke and the door opened over Germany. It was eventually closed and secured with parachute cord. On return to base we discovered that a couple of incendiaries had failed to release over the target, but as soon as the bomb doors were opened they fell out and immediately burst into flames directly under the aircraft. Our mad scramble to get out of the aircraft was slowed somewhat by the knots in the cord securing the door. The ground crew were quick to push the aircraft away from the fire.
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Another engineer once told me that we were known as the lucky crew, usually last back and rarely on more than three engines. As a marker crew we occasionally had to fly over a target a second time to re-mark it. Fred Phillips was the Deputy Master Bomber on about fifteen sorties, and Master Bomber on three. This meant we had to stay over the target for up to twenty minutes as he directed the raid giving instructions to markers and main force over the radio, this could be picked up by the Nazi direction finding equipment which could then set the night fighters onto us. This was always a very risky time. It helped to be lucky and we seemed to have had more than our fare [sic] share.
A few days after our last op’ we were posted to RAF Backla on the shores of the Moray Firth, from where we were posted our separate ways. We wished each other luck, shook hands and parted, never to meet again.
[photograph]
“The Lucky Crew” RAF Oakington September 1944
Never to meet again.
In late November ’44 I was posted to RAF Nutts Corner, near Belfast. 1332 Heavy Conversion Unit, Transport Command was stationed there and I took a course on York C1 aircraft. Back to the classroom again. After passing the ground school exams I was told that I was to join the permanent staff back on Stirling’s. It appeared that a Stirling had taken off on an exercise and completely vanished with its crew. My operational experience on Stirling’s made me the obvious choice as a replacement engineer. My hopes of travelling the world vanished at the stroke of a pen; I simply had to do as I was ordered.
My new duties were to fly as engineer with a pilot instructor and student pilot who was converting from other types of aircraft, many of them flying boats that didn’t have an undercarriage. A lot of the student pilots were foreign. They were all very enthusiastic and
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eager to convert to Stirling’s, their occasional over enthusiasm and language difficulties made for an interesting time. It was disconcerting to be on the final approach with wheels up and red flares going up like a firework display from the caravan on the threshold. On touching the pilots arm and pointing to the undercarriage selector lever he would grin happily and give a thumbs-up sign, quite prepared to continue his approach and execute the perfect belly landing. The only course of action was for me to open the throttles wide and force an overshoot, then try and impress on him the error of his ways.
My nights and weekends were spent in Belfast with “Tommy” Thompson, “Mac” MacDonald and Roy Baker visiting the Four Hundred Club and the Grand Central Hotel.
Mr and Mrs Cree of Cliftonville Circus invited me to spend Christmas ’44 with them; I was treated like a member of their family. A wonderful thing to do for a lad so far from home at Christmas.
I remember watching an incident involving my pal Roy Baker. A Stirling was coming in to land when a tyre burst, the undercarriage collapsed as the aircraft went into a ground loop at over 100 knots. When it came to a halt all the crew emerged from various escape hatches except Roy, the engineer. He was still inside diligently carrying out his emergency drill, turning fuel cocks off, electric’s off, closing engine cooling grills etc. He finally emerged with a self-satisfied look on his face, then realised that both wings had been torn off, complete with engines and fuel tanks, and were at least quarter of a mile away. He was cheered when he later entered the mess.
Nothing ever eclipsed the beauty of Northern Ireland from the air, with it’s patchwork of fields of brown and straw yellow and the most brilliant green, it looked truly beautiful.
A few weeks later the unit moved to RAF Riccall, just south of York. The ageing Stirling’s were taken out of service and replaced with, American built, Consolidated Liberators. These were the last aircraft I flew in as engineer. I was taken off flying duties and made Adjutant of the Flight Engineers Ground School. Of my service in the Royal Air Force this was the job I had least enthusiasm for, sitting behind a deck [sic].
[photograph]
Tom & Ivy Jones 1946
Whilst at Riccall I met Ivy Ridsdale, a Yorkshire lass, at Christie’s Dance Hall in Selby. We would be married in February ’46
In November the unit moved to RAF Dishforth, which meant a seventy mile round trip on a bicycle to visit Ivy at her home in Hambleton, near Selby.
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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.
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[photograph]
Letter from George VI
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Tom and Ivy Jones 2002 and Distinguished Flying Cross
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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.
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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
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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/283/30728/PJonesPW1607.2.jpg
0d0821a434e4a7c7d98cd3620f693b2d
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
L - R
J. NAYLOR REAR GUNNER RAF
S. HARPER. BOMB AIMER RAF
D. GOODMAN NAVIGATOR RNZAF
F. PHILLIPS. PILOT RAAF
T. JONES. FLT. ENGINEER RAF
S. WILLIAMSON. W/OP AG. RAAF
C THURSTON. H2S OPERATOR RNZAF
R. WYNNE M/U. GUNNER. RAF
No 7 SQUADRON P.F.F. 8 GRP.
RAF OAKINGTON.
CAMBS.
SEPT. 1944.
AVRO LANCASTER BIII
PA964 MG-G.
[N] GARDENING SKAGGERAK. [N] TOURS [N] FALAISE
[N] HANNOVER [N] AMIENS [D] OUF EN TERNOIS
[N] HANNOVER. [N] VALENCIENNES [N] STETTIN
[N] GARDENING KATTEGAT [N] RENESCURE [D] LUMBRES
[N] KASSEL [N] OISEMONT [D] VENLO
[N] LUDWIGSHAFEN. [D] BIENNAIS [D] LE HAVRE
[N] BERLIN [D] ST. MARTIN D’ORTIERS. [D] EMDEN
[N] BERLIN [D] FORET DE CAOC. [D] LE HAVRE
[N] STUTTGART [D] LIUZEUX [D] LE HAVRE
[N] SCHWEINFURT [D] THIVERNY [D] LE HAVRE
[N] STUTTGART [N] CHALONS SUR MARNE.
[N] LILLE [D] CAGNEY
[N] AACHEN [N] AULNOYE
[N] TERGNIER [N] HAMBURG
[N] KARLSRUHE [N] KIEL
[N] ESSEN [N] STUTTGART
[N] CHAMBLEY [N] FERFAY
[N] MANTES [N] STUTTGART
[N] DUISBURG [D] NORMANDY BATTLE AREA.
[N] DORTMUND [D] NOYELLE EN CHAUSSE
[N] AACHEN [D] FORET DE NIEPPE
[N] RENNES [D] FORET D’ADAM
[N] MT. COUPLE [N] CABOURG.
[N] FRAUGEVILLE [N] NORMANDY BATTLE AREA.
[N] FORET DE CERISY [D] FORET DE MORMAL.
[N] FOUGERES [N] LA PALLICE
[N] RENNES [D] MONTRICHARD.
[N] NIGHT.
[D] DAY.
2 TOURS EXPIRED
10 SEPT. 1944.
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
List of operations
Description
An account of the resource
At the top a list of the crew including T Jones - flight engineer. 7 Squadron PFF, 8 Group, RAF Oakington, September 1944, Avro Lancaster BIII PA964 MG-G. Below 65 operations listed both day and night. two tours expired 10 September 1944.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One page handwritten document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PJonesPW1607
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--Cambridgeshire
Atlantic Ocean--Skagerrak
Germany--Hannover
Atlantic Ocean--Kattegat (Baltic Sea)
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Ludwigshafen am Rhein
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Schweinfurt
France
France--Lille
Germany--Aachen
France--Tergnier (Canton)
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Essen
France--Chambley Air Base
France--Nantes
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Dortmund
France--Rennes
France--Saint-Lô
France--Fougères (Ille-et-Vilaine)
France--Tours
France--Amiens
France--Valenciennes
France--Saint-Omer (Pas-de-Calais)
France--Abbeville
France--Lisieux
France--Creil
France--Maubeuge
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Kiel
France--Normandy
France--Falaise
Poland
Poland--Szczecin
Netherlands--Venlo
France--Le Havre
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Germany--Emden (Lower Saxony)
France--Châlons-en-Champagne
Germany
Netherlands
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-09-10
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.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Steve Christian
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
7 Squadron
8 Group
air gunner
aircrew
bomb aimer
bombing
flight engineer
Lancaster
navigator
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Pathfinders
pilot
RAF Oakington
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30727/PJonesPW1605.2.jpg
90714a7f7f3762b05e1fc3986f31dc11
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
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
Airman being dangled out of a window
Description
An account of the resource
An airman half way head first out of an upper floor window of a house with three other airmen behind him, Below another window. Submitted with caption 'Photograph of an airman being dangled out of a window by Clive Thurston (left) and Thomas John Jones (right), submitted with caption; “High spirits between operations. 622 Squadron, RAF Oakington. 1943'.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PJonesPW1605
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--Cambridgeshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
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
622 Squadron
aircrew
RAF Oakington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30718/PJonesPW16010027.2.jpg
b387e9ccbf0934ad83a19ef163b77e3e
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30718/PJonesPW16010028.2.jpg
e117b653720255014c78a892ae0dcdec
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30718/BJonesJonesP7.2.jpg
9dfd84261c160d9cdb32cc9ccdedb0af
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
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
Nine airman by the tail of a Lancaster
Description
An account of the resource
Two versions of the same item. Five aircrew and one groundcrew standing in front and three aircrew behind sitting on the tail of a Lancaster. All are wearing battledress. Right hand standing man is leaning on the bottom of the fuselage door. On the reverse 'On tail L-R, Ron Wynne, Tom Jones, Stan Williamson, L-R, Fred Phillips, Frank Shaw - groundcrew, Steve Harper, Clive Thurston, Joe Naylor, Sept 1944, 7 Squadron Bomber Command, RAF Oakington, 8 Group PFF'. This item was also submitted with the caption 'The crew of Lancaster PA964 O oboe enjoying a break in the sunshine, whilst preparing for a night sortie.
7 Squadron PFF RAF Oakington. Summer 1944,
L-R
Fred Phillips RAAF pilot
Frank Shaw RAAF (ground crew)O/C electrics, instruments & bomb loading
Steve Harper RAF specialist map reader & bomb aimer
Ron Wynne RAF (on tail) mid-upper gunner
Dave Goodwin RNZAF navigator
Tom Jones RAF (on tail) flight engineer
Clive Thurston RNZAF Radar operator & second navigator
Stan Williamson RAAF (on tail) wireless operator
Joe Naylor RAF rear gunner'.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1944-09
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two b/w photographs
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PJonesPW16010027, PJonesPW16010028, BJonesJonesP7
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Cambridgeshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
7 Squadron
8 Group
air gunner
aircrew
bomb aimer
dispersal
flight engineer
ground crew
ground personnel
Lancaster
navigator
Pathfinders
pilot
RAF Oakington
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30709/PJonesPW16010009.1.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30709/PJonesPW16010010.1.jpg
6834eb59f62098f68648b61693de0e29
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
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
Eight aircrew
Description
An account of the resource
Eight aircrew wearing battledress with peaked or side caps on top of a Lancaster, five on port inner engine, one in the cockpit and two sitting on top of fuselage behind cockpit. On the reverse 'PA964 MG-G, L-R Tom Jones, Steve Harper, Clive Thurston, Dave Goodwin, Joe Naylor, Fred Phillips (in cockpit), Ron Wynne, Stan Williamson, Sept 1944, 7 Squadron Bomber Command, RAF Oakington, 8 Group PFF'.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1944-09
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PJonesPW16010009, PJonesPW16010010
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--Cambridgeshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
7 Squadron
8 Group
aircrew
Lancaster
Pathfinders
RAF Oakington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30708/PJonesPW16010007.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30708/PJonesPW16010008.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30708/PJonesPW1606.2.jpg
22ee3651ed7057256390fe3fc6c5bb12
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
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
Eight aircrew
Description
An account of the resource
Two versions of the same item. In the distance a line of airmen in front of a Lancaster. On the reverse 'PA964 MG-G, L-R, Joe Naylor, Steve Harper, Dave Goodwin, Fred Phillips, Tom Jones, Stan Williamson, Clive Thurston, Ron Wynne, Sept 1944, 7 Squadron Bomber Command, RAF Oakington, 8 Group PFF'.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1944-09
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two b/w photographs
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PJonesPW16010007, PJonesPW16010008, PJonesPW1606
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--Cambridgeshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
7 Squadron
8 Group
aircrew
dispersal
Lancaster
Pathfinders
RAF Oakington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30707/PJonesPW16010005.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30707/PJonesPW16010006.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30707/BJonesJonesP4.2.jpg
f042a1b0520c95a679b1faa1641630c7
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
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
Eight aircrew
Description
An account of the resource
Two versions of the same item. Eight airmen wearing battledress and peaked or side caps standing in line in front of a Lancaster. On the reverse 'L - R Fred Phillips, Dave Goodwin, Stan Williamson, Clive Thurston, Ron Wynne, Joe Naylor, Tom Jones, Steve Harper, Sept 1944, 7 Squadron Bomber Command, RAF Oakington, 8 Group PFF'. This item was also submitted with the caption '“The Lucky Crew” with Lancaster PA964 "O oboe" (their favoured aircraft). This aircraft was lost on the night of 6th October 1944 (a month after “The Lucky Crew" completed their two tours) during a bombing attack on Scholven-Buer. The crew that night, bailed out and were captured. They were held in Stalag Luft 7 at Bankau, from where they escaped in April 1945. PA964 had survived 244 hours of operational flying, much of it in the hands of "The Lucky Crew'.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1944-09
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two b/w photographs
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PJonesPW16010005, PJonesPW16010006, BJonesJonesP4
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--Cambridgeshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
7 Squadron
8 Group
aircrew
Lancaster
Pathfinders
RAF Oakington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30706/PJonesPW16010003.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30706/PJonesPW16010004.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30706/BJonesJonesP6.2.jpg
71f103818da5a8aa723ca4e483c443c9
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
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
Eight aircrew
Description
An account of the resource
Two versions of same item. Eight airmen wearing battledress and peaked or side caps. Six standing by the rear fuselage door of a Lancaster and two sitting in the door. On the reverse 'L-R Steve Harper, Fred Phillips, Dave Goodwin, Clive Thurston, Joe Naylor, Ron Wynne. In door L-R, Stan Williamson, Tom Jones, Sept 1944, 7 Squadron Bomber Command, RAF Oakington, 8 Group PFF'. This item was also submitted with caption 'Fred Phillips DFC & Bar (2nd left) with his crew. They were known as “The Lucky Crew” having completed 64 operations. 7 Squadron PFF, RAF Oakington 1946 [sic]'.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1944-09
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two b/w photographs
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PJonesPW16010003, PJonesPW16010004, BJonesJonesP6
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--Cambridgeshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
7 Squadron
8 Group
aircrew
Lancaster
Pathfinders
RAF Oakington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30705/PJonesPW16010001.1.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30705/PJonesPW16010002.1.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/283/30705/BJonesJonesP3.1.jpg
de96bc88a354312a6975a834032f5eba
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
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
Eight aircrew
Description
An account of the resource
Two versions of the same item. Eight airmen wearing battledress and peaked or side caps standing in two lines in front of a Lancaster. On the reverse 'Front row L-R, Stan Williamson RAAF W/Op, Tom Jones RAFVR F/E, Ron Wynn RAFVY AG-MUP, Joe "Jonny" Naylor RAFVR A/G Rear. Back L-R, Fred Phillips RAAF Pilot, Dave Goodwin RNZAF Nav 1, Clive Thurston RNZAF Radar + Nav 2, Steve Harper RAFVR B/A, Sept 1944, 7 Squadron Bomber Command, RAF Oakington, 8 Group PFF'.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1944-09
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two b/w photographs
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PJonesPW16010001, PJonesPW16010002, BJonesJonesP3
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 New Zealand Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Cambridgeshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
7 Squadron
8 Group
air gunner
aircrew
bomb aimer
flight engineer
Lancaster
navigator
Pathfinders
pilot
RAF Oakington
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1671/30470/LCameronD173516v2.1.pdf
9909f78d20b7acfc578dc3f2efa9da88
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
Cameron, Don
D Cameron
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2020-08-20
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Cameron, D
Description
An account of the resource
90 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Don Cameron (173516, Royal Air Force) a pilot who flew Lancaster on 115 Squadron. Collection contains his log books, a memoir, a aircrew categorisation card and photographs.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Neil Cameron and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Access Rights
Information about who can access the resource or an indication of its security status. Access Rights may include information regarding access or restrictions based on privacy, security, or other policies.
Permission granted for commercial projects
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Don Cameron’s Royal Canadian Air Force pilots flying log book. Two
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LCameronD173516v2
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending review
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.
Description
An account of the resource
Royal Canadian Air Force Pilots flying log book two, for Don Cameron, covering the period from 24 January 1943 to 1 October 1947. Detailing his flying training, operations flown, instructor duties and post war flying duties with 246 and 242 squadrons. He was stationed at USAAF Napier Field, RAF Windrush, RAF Docking, RAF Little Rissington, RAF Wing, RAF Little Horwood, RAF Silverstone, RAF Wratting Common, RAF Waterbeach, RAF Witchford, RAF Feltwell, RAF Lindholme, RAF Lulsgate Bottom, RAF Finningley, RAF Snaith, RAF Dishforth, RAF Homsley South, RAF Oakington and RAF Full Sutton. Aircraft flown in were Harvard, Oxford, Wellington, Stirling, Lancaster, and York. He flew a total of 33 operations with 115 squadron, 5 daylight and 28 night. Targets were Berlin, Schweinfurt, Augsburg, Frankfurt, Villeneuve St George, Laon, Rouen, Cologne, Dusseldorf, Karlsruhe, Nantes, Cap Griz Nez, Courtrai, Le Mans, Duisburg, Dortmund-Ems Canal, Boulogne, Aachen, Calais, Ouistreham, Le Havre, Valenciennes, Mont Didier, Domleger, L’Hey. Biennaise, Villers Bocage, Beauvoir, Watten, Vaires and Nucourt. His pilots on operations were Flight Lieutenant Halley, Warrant Officer Jolly, Pilot Officer Cameron and Flight Sergeant Rellew.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Mike Connock
Callum Davies
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
France
Belgium
Germany
Great Britain
United States
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Alabama--Dothan
Belgium--Kortrijk
England--Buckinghamshire
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Gloucestershire
England--Hampshire
England--Norfolk
England--Northamptonshire
England--Somerset
England--Yorkshire
France--Amiens Region
France--Beauvoir-sur-Mer
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
France--Caen Region
France--Calais
France--Laon
France--Le Havre
France--Le Mans
France--Montdidier (Hauts-de-France)
France--Nantes
France--Nucourt
France--Pas-de-Calais
France--Paris
France--Rouen
France--Vaires-sur-Marne
France--Valenciennes
France--Villers-Bocage (Calvados)
France--Watten
Germany--Aachen
Germany--Augsburg
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Schweinfurt
Alabama
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
France--Ouistreham
France--Domléger-Longvillers
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-01-30
1944-01-31
1944-02-15
1944-02-16
1944-02-24
1944-02-25
1944-02-26
1944-03-22
1944-03-24
1944-03-25
1944-04-09
1944-04-10
1944-04-11
1944-04-18
1944-04-19
1944-04-21
1944-04-22
1944-04-23
1944-04-24
1944-04-25
1944-05-08
1944-05-10
1944-05-11
1944-05-19
1944-05-20
1944-05-21
1944-05-22
1944-05-23
1944-05-25
1944-05-28
1944-06-04
1944-06-06
1944-06-14
1944-06-15
1944-06-16
1944-06-18
1944-06-21
1944-06-23
1944-06-24
1944-06-27
1944-06-28
1944-06-30
1944-07-02
1944-07-05
1944-07-06
1944-07-07
1944-07-08
1944-07-10
115 Squadron
1651 HCU
1656 HCU
1678 HCU
17 OTU
242 Squadron
26 OTU
aircrew
bombing
bombing of the Le Havre E-boat pens (14/15 June 1944)
bombing of the Normandy coastal batteries (5/6 June 1944)
Cook’s tour
Flying Training School
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lancaster Mk 1
Lancaster Mk 2
Lancaster Mk 3
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
pilot
RAF Dishforth
RAF Feltwell
RAF Finningley
RAF Full Sutton
RAF Lindholme
RAF Little Horwood
RAF Little Rissington
RAF Oakington
RAF Silverstone
RAF Snaith
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Windrush
RAF Wing
RAF Witchford
RAF Wratting Common
Stirling
tactical support for Normandy troops
training
Wellington
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1491/28582/PEleyNJ1628.1.jpg
707e42094cb4810d65dc2b4eb7afd31b
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
Eley, Jim
Norman James Eley
N J Eley
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-02-29
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Eley, NJ
Description
An account of the resource
40 items. The collection concerns Jim Eley (163588 Royal Air Force) and contains his memoir and photographs. He trained in Canada and flew operations as a pilot with 514 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Jim Eley 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
Jim Eley and Group of Airmen
Description
An account of the resource
RAF Personnel and civilians in front of brickwall with 2 windows, submitted with caption; “RFS Oakington flying Harvards. June 1951.”
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1951-06
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PEleyNJ1628
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
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Cambridgeshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1951-06
aircrew
Harvard
pilot
RAF Oakington
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1491/28556/BEleyNJEleyNJv1.2.pdf
62c3cba39d346d3d53f28385454b2b21
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
Eley, Jim
Norman James Eley
N J Eley
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
2016-02-29
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
Eley, NJ
Description
An account of the resource
40 items. The collection concerns Jim Eley (163588 Royal Air Force) and contains his memoir and photographs. He trained in Canada and flew operations as a pilot with 514 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Jim Eley and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
MY TIME IN THE ROYAL AIR FORCE
1942-1955
In July 1939 I finished my studies at Wilsons Grammar School in south London and looked forward to the summer holidays. By September our Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain had declared war on Germany as the Nazis had invaded Poland. Schools were shut and any further studies became impossible. I secured a temporary job in our local Ministry of Food office in Sidcup in Kent as food rationing in the UK was being introduced.
1940 saw the beginning of the bombing of our cities and by July of that year the battle of Britain had commenced with daily dogfights occurring with the German bombers. By September our brave fighter pilots had done immense damage to the German airforce and so any invasion of UK was abandoned by the Nazis.
I was 17 years of age and daily watched those German bombers appear. I eventually decided I had to do something to protect our land and our way of life. Watching those fighter boys daily I thought it would be a good idea to join them. The idea that I may be able to learn to fly really prompted me into action.
So I applied to join the RAF and eventually had an Aircrew Selection Board at the Air Ministry in London. I was thrilled at being accepted and was promptly put on Deferred Service as the various flying training establishment were full with trainees. It was a very frustrating time for me as it was not until September 1942 that I was finally called for service and proceeded to the Aircrew Receiving Centre at St. Johns Wood, London where one met other volunteers and was kitted out with a uniform, had a medical etc., and was allocated our accomodation [sic]. Our pay was to be 2 shilling [sic] a day. About a week later we found ourselves in a training camp under canvas in Ludow, Shropshire, where we carried out cross country running and swimming in a very cold river. Seven days to get us fit for service and it was cruel as the weather was cold and miserable but we all had to agree that we felt much fitter at the end of our stay in this camp.
So with some 50 other aircraftmen I proceeded to No. 7 Initual [sic] Training Wing installed in Penolver hotel in Newquay, Cornwall. The hotel had been taken over by the Ministry of Defence for the duration of the war. During our stay here we had daily lectures on the theory of flight, learnt the morse [sic] code, had aircraft recognition and much to our dismay had drill in a local car park and many runs round Newquay to keep fit.
With our time in Newquay at an end in March 1943 we were posted to No. 6 Flying Grading School at Sywell in Northamptonshire. This was the moment we had all been waiting for, our very first flight.
After 8 hours of flying with an instructor carrying out many take offs and landings, turns, spinning, aerobatics, etc., I went solo in a Tiger Moth. The weather was poor and bitterly cold in the open cockpit of the aircraft but the thrill of being on my own actually piloting a Tiger moth was immense. A small number of my course were rejected as being insuitable [sic] as pilots and the rest of us were sent to the Aircrew Disposal Centre at Heaton Park, Manchester. We were destined for training in Canada or America which excited us immensly [sic] as none of us had been out of the UK before. So in June 1943 we all travelled to Gourock on the west coast of Scotland to board the Queen Mary cruise liner bound for New York.
The ship, which was about 1000 feet long, had been converted into a troop carrier for the duration of the war. Besides us on board there were some German prisoners being guarded by Polish army personnel and some Canadian troops. The crossing of the Atlantic was a bit hairaising [sic] as the ships stabilisers had been removed in order to gain extra speed so as to avoid the patrolling German submarines. We were struck by a storm midway across the ocean and we got thrown around a lot with the ship creaking and groaning from end to end in the high seas. The storm was so strong it caused us to think maybe it would damage such a big vessel. The ship had one Bofors gun for defence mounted in the stern and one morning this gun opened up with a frightening noise and one could see the shells bursting on the horizon. We were assured that it was only practice. It took 3 days to reach New York which was a welcoming sight. Upon docking it was found that several of the German prisoners were missing. One can only assume that the Polish guards threw them overboard one night in retaliation for the the [sic] terrible bombing of Warsaw.
Having disembarked from the Queen Mary we were transported to the Grand Central railway station in New York to board a train for Canada. After several hours having elapsed we arrived in Moncton in New Brunswick. From here we were put on a train to take us to the state of Saskatchewan, situated on the Canadian prairies. We were looked after very well during this journey with the black car attendant preparing our meals and generally taking care of our needs. We enjoyed the t-bone steaks and other fabulous food which was of course was [sic] unobtainable in UK with food rationing in place since 1940. We made many stops during our journey to No. 33 Elementary Flying Training School in Caron, Saskatchewan. The strange thing is that at every stop we made the Canadian people were clapping and waving and passing sweets, chocolate and other goodies to through the open carriage windows. An incredible sight of typical Canadian Hospitality and which we found quite humbling.
Our arrival in Caron was the same with lots of Canadians to greet us. How they all got the news that some RAF aircrew were on their way was a mystery. We disembarked at Caron railway station to board some coaches to take us to the airfield. Upon arrival we were greeted by the Commanding Officer, Squadron Leader Bradley and given a pep talk. We quickly settled into our accomodation [sic] and were eagerly waiting for our first flight in the Cornell aircraft all lined up on the tarmac in the blazing sunshine.
My instructor was Warant [sic] Officer Auldhous, a rather serious but friendly character who very early in my training taught me not to kill myself. As far as I can remember our course all passed satisfactorily. The flying was intense and continued day and night the weather being excellent for such training and which of course included more ground lectures too. Having had a final flying test with the Chief Flying Instructor S/L Bradley I was ready to move on to No. 41 Service Flying Training School situated at Weyburn, not far from Caron and still in the state of Saskatchewan.
We now had to master flying a bigger and heavier aeroplane, the Harvard. We had all entered a phase of advanced flying that was going to determine who was suitable for fighter aircraft or heavy bombers. My flying instructor was Flying Officer Ney, a happy and jovial Canadian who inspired confidence and taught me a lot. The Harvard was a heavy all-metal aeroplane with a retractable undercarriage. The usual flying manoeuvres were once again carried out including inverted flight and lots of aerobatics, formation flying and navigation exercises. Saskatchewan is a completely flat wheat growing area quite unlike the hills and changing scenery of the UK. The towns had strange names like Medecine [sic] Hat, Assiniboia, Swift Current and Moosomin. Our free time was spent in the local town of Moosejaw and occasionally in Regina.
Our flying training was slowly coming to an end and the weather was changing, eventually with heavy falls of snow. The last flights were made and we now waited for the results. The majority of our course passed and in December 1943 we assembled in a hangar for our “wings” parade as it was snowing at the time.
It was a proud moment having the RAF wings badge pinned to out [sic] uniforms by the Canadian Air Officer Commanding the group. A complete surprise for me when it was announced that I had been granted a Kings Commision [sic] and my rank was now Pilot Officer. The promotion later appeared in the Supplement to the London Gazette on 9th. May 1944. I was really very happy at my achievement. I had left home as Aircraftsman 2nd class and was now to return home as a RAFVR officer. I promptly visited the tailors in Weyburn in order to get measured u p for a new uniform which was delivered a week later.
1
[page break]
Visited Winnipeg for Christmas with a chum of mine. During our travels we were stopped by an elderly couple who very kindly invited us for a dinner that evening. Typical Canadian hospitality and most enjoyable in every way. I sadly lost contact with this generous couple. We returned back to Weyburn the following day. I think the whole course were getting a bit homesick by now. We had to wait until February 1944 to board a train for Moncton once again and in March we again travelled by rail to Halifax, Nova Scotia. Soon after arrival we boarded the ship New Amsterdam, a smaller and slower vessel than the Queen Mary. In view of this we sailed a more northerly route across the Atlantic in order to keep clear of the German U boats. That made our crossing take 6 days but to be heading eastbound for UK once again was great and all of us just wanted to get home to our families and with so many stories to tell.
Docking in Gourock harbour once again after a safe crossing of the Atlantic it was a moment for reflection in what we had left behind in Canada. Our friendly flying instructors and the comradeship, the great and varied food at Caron and Weyburn and in the local restaurants knowing that we now had to face food rationing once again. But it was great to be back home once again amongst our families and friends.
We quickly boarded a train bound for P.R.C. Harrogate where my posting to Filey in Yorkshire was confirmed. I was to take part in a Officers Battle Course leaving behind all my friends originally made in Canada. After a week of instruction on various armaments at the firing range coupled with lectures on the defence of airfields, etc., I was posted to No. 18(P) Advanced Flying Unit at Snitterfield in Warwickshire in May 1944. This course was designed to improve instrument flying for bad weather operations. The twin engined Oxford aeroplane was used and I spent a lot of my time with the cockpit windscreen blanked out accompanied by a check pilot for safety. It was here that I received my promotion to Flying Officer with a very welcomed pay rise.
Having completed the course satisfactorily at Snitterfield I was moved to No. 11 Operational Training unit at Westcott in Buckingham in August. Serious stuff now as I was to be checked out on the Wellington aircraft, a twin engined bomber. It was here that I had my new crew members join me. Gathered in a lecture room the various crew members were told to chose their future skipper. Have no idea why they chose me but we quickly formed a close bond so now I had another officer, my bomb aimer, together with a navigator, wireless operator, and two gunners, all sergeants. As far as I was concerned I was never going to pull rank on my crew as this would have damaged the developing bond between us. We were a crew each relying on the other to safely execute the coming operations. Having carried out many navigational exercises, dropped 30 lbs practice bombs, crew training and fighter affiliation manoeuvres our next posting was to No.1668 Heavy Conversion Unit at Bottesford in Nottingham. Now this was exciting for me as my dream was at last coming true in that I was going to fly a Lancaster 4 engined bomber at the ripe old age of 21. It was here that a new member joined our crew, a Sergeant Flight Engineer now making 7 of us. l guess we were a happy bunch of fellows and always seemed to be joking about something but aware that our next move was going to be the real thing. I proceeded to carry out many take offs and landings and generally familiarise myself with the Lancaster. It was pure music to hear those 4 Rolls Royce Merlin engines start up with a roar with smoke and flames coming from the exhausts. Having spent some 3 weeks at Bottesford we received instructions to join No. 514 Squadron at Waterbeach, just outside Cambridge. This was No. 3 Group Bomber Command territory, the airfield having come into operation in 1943. No time was wasted in getting us on our very first Operation, a daylight raid on a [sic] oil refinery and coking plant in Bruchstrasse. The usual bomb load was 16 x 500 lbs general purpose bombs and a 4000lbs cookie. There were some 800 bombers taking part and the trip was uneventful apart some heavy flak at the target. The war was slowly coming to an end and German fighters were almost absent. Our crew carried out several more raids mainly on German oil installations, and a spectacular raid by 1000 bombers on the Heligoland German U-boat pens. What a sight that was with lancaster [sic] bombers everywhere one looked. We had to keep our eyes peeled to avoid the possibilty [sic] of collision with other aircraft.
In April 1945 our Government managed somehow to get agreement with the German Commander in Holland to allow some food drops for the starving Dutch people. The situation was desparate [sic] as the citizens of Holland were reduced to eating tulip bulbs, leaves off trees, flowers and scraps in garbage. Death by starvation was a daily occurrence. The Germans agreed to the food drop providing we went unarmed so all guns in the Lancasters turrets were removed. The bomb bays were filled with panniers containing selected food and 514 Squadron got airborne and headed across the North Sea at low level for Rotterdam. Arriving over the city we felt very uneasy as the Germans were on the rooftops training their guns on us. They could have shot us out of the sky so easily but they must have realised we were unarmed. We crossed the city at about 500 feet looking for the main square to drop our food and eventually to 300 feet with my bomb aimer releasing the panniers. One could see the 1000’s of Dutch people in the square waving and smiling. After several runs we turned to head back across the North Sea and home. It was a moving sight and one that I shall never forget. I just hope we were able to save some lives during those terrible times. Next day we repeated the operation by going to The Hague. A similar greeting by the Dutch people was a sight to believe.
May 7th 1945 saw the surrender of the Germans to Allied forces and so our Squadron was reduced to carrying out general flying to keep in practice. Now the big exodus occurred from the RAF with a great number of pilots opting to leave the Service. As jobs in flying in the civil world were minimal I decided to stay in the RAF for a further 18 months during which time I was promoted to the rank of Flight Lieutenant and another pay rise. Our crew were then moved to No. 207 Squadron at Spilsby in Lincolnshire and later the Squadron moved to Methwold in Norfolk. It was during this period that we carried out several flights to Naples and Bari in Italy. The purpose of each flight was to pick up 20 army personnel and bring them back to UK. If sea transport had been used it would have taken so much longer and the army still on the continent were getting somewhat frustrated at not returning home. Eventually my crew were discharged from the RAF and they all returned to their civilian jobs.
A surprise phone call in May 1946 from Group Captain Simpson at RAF Marham invited me to join the Development Wing at the Central Bomber Establishment in Norfolk. My duties where [sic] to carry out flights with some boffins who were experimenting with secret radar equipment. They occupied the navigators desk in the aircraft which was blanked off by a black curtain. I only had a flight engineer to accompany me and the flights were mainly local in the Norfolk area. Upon landing this equipment was removed by the boffins and taken to a nissan [sic] hut on the airfield which was out of bounds to all. Secret stuff.
My time spent at Marham was a very pleasant and interesting one in that I was able to fly not only the Lancasters but the bigger version the Lincoln, as well as the Anson and Auster.
My time in the RAF came to and end in April 1947 and my thoughts were turned to civilian life once again.
Spells at the London County Council and Chislehurst & Sidcup Urban District Council left me totally bored. I had done some study whilst still in the Service and had obtained my Commercial Pilots licence. Jobs in the UK were still minimal and my family did not want me to move overseas where flying jobs were available.
In order to keep my hand in at flying I joined No. 24 Reserve Flying School at Rochester in Kent as a reservist which enabled me to fly the old Tiger Moth once again at weekends. It also helped me maintain the validity of my Commercial licence.
News in the daily papers that ex-RAF pilots were wanted for a special 3 month course to train on fighter aircraft interested me. The Korean War had started and RAF fighter pilots may be needed for operations to back up the Americans. Being a [sic] ex-heavy bomber pilot I thought I would have no chance but was quickly accepted and was recalled for service in June 1951 being posted to
2
[page break]
No. 1 Flying Refresher School at Oakington in Cambridge. It was time to refresh my flying skills on Service aircraft again and so I found myself on Harvard aircraft for some 3 weeks. The posting of our course moved us to No. 102 RFS at North Luffenham in Rutland. Lined up on the tarmac were Spitfires Mk 22 and Vampires Mk 5. No dual instruction was availabe [sic] as both aircraft were single seaters. It was just a question of reading the pilots notes, familiarising oneself with the cockpit layout, start up and go. I had for a long time hoped one day I could fly a Spitfire, the best fighter in WW2 and at last it was happening. The Vampire allowed me to have my first experience of jet flying reaching speeds of 500mph at 30-40,000feet. As it turned out we were not required for opertions [sic] in Korea but this 3 month course had decided one thing. The flying game had bitten me once again so I resigned my civilian job and joined once again the RFS at Rochester but this time as a staff pilot employed by Short Bros. & Harland. I was involved in flying the weekend reservists on navigation flights in the Anson aircraft. Other aircraft available to me was our twin engined Rapide, a Chipmunk and the old Tiger Moth. Happy days once again but unfortunately it was shortlived [sic] because in March 1953 the Government closed all the Reserve Flying Schools.
The RAF invited me back for a 2 year short service in April which I accepted and so found myself putting on my uniform once again and travelling to No.3 Advanced Navigation School at Bishops Court in County Down Northern Ireland. My duties there were to fly the Anson aircraft which was fitted out like a class room with desks for the navigators under training. It was in February 1954 that I was posted to Leconfield in Yorkshire, the home of the Central Gunnery School. I was once again flying the “heavies”, the Lancaster and Lincoln and training gunners on the 20mm cannon guns on a firing range in the North Sea.
With my 2 year short service commision [sic] at and end in April 1955 and having bid my many colleagues farewell I departed from the RAF for good and secured my first job in the civil airlines. The next 25 years enabled me to see the world but that is another story.
Hope this gives you all some idea of my varied life in the Royal Air Force. Jim, February 2013.
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
My Time in the Royal Air Force 1942-1955
Description
An account of the resource
An autobiography by Jim about his time in the RAF. He was 17 when the war started and he applied and was accepted for the RAF, on deferred service. Training started at Ludlow, Newquay then grading at Sywell. He was selected for further training and sent via Greenock to New York then Canada. He passed his flying training then returned to UK for further training. After crewing up he converted to Wellingtons then Lancasters at Bottesford.
He continued in the RAF after the war getting involved in secret radar trials. On leaving the RAF he got very bored with civilian life and rejoined to assist in the Korean war. Not required in Korea he joined Shorts as a staff pilot. Later he rejoined the RAF for two years.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Jim Eley
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2013-02
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Three 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
BEleyNJEleyNJv10001
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--Ludlow
England--Newquay
England--Manchester
Scotland--Gourock
United States
New York (State)--New York
Canada
New Brunswick--Moncton
Saskatchewan
Saskatchewan--Weyburn
Saskatchewan--Moose Jaw
Saskatchewan--Regina
Manitoba--Winnipeg
Nova Scotia--Halifax
England--Harrogate
England--Filey
England--Snitterfield
Germany--Bochum
Germany--Helgoland
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Italy--Naples
Italy--Bari
England--Rochester (Kent)
Korea
England--Oakington
Netherlands--Hague
Italy
New York (State)
New Brunswick
Germany
Nova Scotia
Netherlands
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Cornwall (County)
England--Kent
England--Lancashire
England--Shropshire
England--Warwickshire
Manitoba
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.
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Jan Waller
11 OTU
1668 HCU
207 Squadron
3 Group
514 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
bomb aimer
bombing of Helgoland (18 April 1945)
Cornell
crewing up
Dominie
flight engineer
Flying Training School
hangar
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
Lincoln
military service conditions
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
navigator
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
pilot
promotion
RAF Bishops Court
RAF Bottesford
RAF Hunmanby Moor
RAF Leconfield
RAF Marham
RAF Methwold
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Oakington
RAF Spilsby
RAF Sywell
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Westcott
recruitment
Spitfire
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/530/25990/MShawSR3002545-160211-15.2.jpg
64233735a3dc7bb38205a8314df55045
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
Shaw, Stanley R
S R Shaw
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Shaw, SR
Description
An account of the resource
37 items. An oral history interview with Stanley Shaw (3002545 Royal Air Force) Photographs, documents and his log book. He served with a Repair and Salvage Unit and attended many crashes. He later served in North Africa and the Middle East.
The collection also contains two photograph albums; one of his RAF service and one of his time in a cycle club.
The collection has been licenced to the IBCC Digital Archive by Stanley Shaw and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
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.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-01-14
2016-02-11
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
Aircraft Recovered by No 9 Party, 54 MU
Description
An account of the resource
A list of 29 aircraft recovered during 1944-45 by No 9 Party, 54 Maintenance Unit.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Stan Shaw
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One handwritten list
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MShawSR3002545-160211-15
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Bedfordshire
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Norfolk
England--Suffolk
England--Wiltshire
England--Thurleigh
England--Ely
England--Felixstowe
England--Desborough
England--Northamptonshire
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944
1945
B-17
B-24
B-25
Battle
C-47
Halifax
Lancaster
Mosquito
P-51
RAF Bassingbourn
RAF Bourn
RAF Castle Combe
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Desborough
RAF Duxford
RAF Felixstowe
RAF Gransden Lodge
RAF Graveley
RAF Henlow
RAF Hethel
RAF Kimbolton
RAF Martlesham Heath
RAF Mepal
RAF Oakington
RAF Podington
RAF Stradishall
RAF Sutton Bridge
RAF Swannington
RAF Swanton Morley
RAF Tempsford
RAF Upwood
RAF Warboys
RAF Watton
RAF Woodbridge
RAF Wratting Common
Stirling
Walrus
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1596/25340/LSaundersEJ924532v1.2.pdf
c78158eb8860fddc9d2b39689fa6731e
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
Saunders, Ernest John
E J Saunders
Sam Saunders
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2020-02-13
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
Saunders, EJ
Description
An account of the resource
Nine items. The collection concerns Ernest John Saunders (924532 Royal Air Force) and consists of his log book, photographs and correspondence as well as two photograph albums of his service and family life. He flew operations as a navigator in North Africa in 1942 with 40 Squadron and with Bomber Command in 1943 - 1944 with 692 and 128 Squadron on Mosquito.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Penelope Thicket 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
Sam Saunders's flying log book
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Description
An account of the resource
Detailing his flying training and operations flown as navigator 16 January 1941 to 9 January 1946. He was stationed at RCAF Winnipeg (6 AOS), RCAF MacDonald (3 B&GS), RCAF Rivers (1 ANS), RAF Harwell (15 OTU), RAF Shallufa (38 and 40 Squadrons), RAF Upper Heyford (16 OTU), RAF Hendon (24 and 512 Squadrons), RAF Doncaster (271 Squadron), RAF Marham (1655 MTU), RAF Oakington (627 Squadron), RAF Graveley (692 Squadron), RAF Wyton (128 Squadron), RAF Crosby-on-Eden (109 TCU), RAF Almaza (216 Squadron).
Aircraft flown in were Anson, Battle, Wellington, Hudson, Tiger Moth, Dakota, Sparrow, Oxford, Proctor and Mosquito.
He flew 3 night operations with 38 Squadron, 42 with 40 Squadron, 8 with 627 Squadron, 45 with 692 squadron and 9 with 128 Squadron, a total of 107. His pilots on operations were Warrant Officer Brodie, Sergeant Le Brog, Squadron Leader Booth, Wing Commander Lockhart, Flight Lieutenant Grainger, Squadron Leader Saunderson, Wing Commander Birkin, Wing Commander Watts, Flying Officer Page, Pilot Officer Burnett, Flying Officer Richardson, Flying Officer Goodwin, Wing Commander Burrough, Flying Officer Boyer and Flight Lieutenant Gallanders.
Targets included Benghazi, mining, Tobruk, El Daba, Alamein, Ras el Manatis, Fuka, Cagliari, Tunis, Bizerte, Duisburg, Cologne, Hamburg, Magdeburg, Berlin, Frankfurt, Schweinfurt, Augsburg, Hannover, Dusseldorf, Koln, Osnabruk, Stuttgart, Friedrichshaven, Leverkusen, Cologne, Gelsenkirchen, Bremen, Homberg, Weisbaden, Saarbruchen, Wanne-Eichel, Castrop, Kiel, Kassel, Brunswick and Cochem.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Terry Hancock
Cara Walmsley
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
Egypt
Great Britain
Italy
Libya
North Africa
Egypt--Alamayn
Egypt--Cairo
Egypt--Suez
Egypt--Tall al-Ḍabʻah
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Cumbria
England--Doncaster
England--London
England--Norfolk
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Braunschweig
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Castrop-Rauxel
Germany--Cochem
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Friedrichshafen
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Homberg (Kassel)
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Leverkusen
Germany--Leverkusen
Germany--Osnabrück
Germany--Saarbrücken
Germany--Schweinfurt
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Wanne-Eickel
Germany--Wiesbaden
Italy--Cagliari
Libya--Tobruk
Manitoba--Winnipeg
Tunisia--Bizerte
Tunisia--Tunis
Germany--Augsburg
Germany--Magdeburg
England--Oxfordshire
Libya--Banghāzī
Tunisia
Germany
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Yorkshire
Egypt--Fukah
Manitoba
Manitoba--Rivers
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1942-05-24
1942-05-25
1942-05-26
1942-05-27
1942-05-30
1942-06-05
1942-06-06
1942-06-08
1942-07-11
1942-07-12
1942-07-15
1942-07-16
1942-07-18
1942-07-19
1942-07-20
1942-07-21
1942-07-23
1942-07-24
1942-07-25
1942-07-26
1942-07-27
1942-07-29
1942-07-30
1942-08-01
1942-08-02
1942-08-04
1942-08-05
1942-08-18
1942-08-19
1942-08-22
1942-08-23
1942-08-26
1942-08-27
1942-08-28
1942-08-29
1942-08-31
1942-09-01
1942-09-06
1942-09-07
1942-09-13
1942-09-14
1942-09-18
1942-09-19
1942-09-20
1942-09-21
1942-09-24
1942-09-25
1942-10-09
1942-10-10
1942-10-12
1942-10-13
1942-10-18
1942-10-19
1942-10-20
1942-10-21
1942-10-23
1942-10-24
1942-10-25
1942-10-26
1942-10-27
1942-10-29
1942-10-30
1942-11-02
1942-11-03
1942-11-04
1942-11-05
1942-11-06
1942-11-07
1942-11-08
1942-11-09
1942-11-10
1942-11-11
1942-11-14
1942-11-15
1942-11-18
1942-11-19
1942-11-20
1942-11-21
1942-11-24
1942-11-25
1942-11-27
1942-11-28
1943-12-28
1944-01-02
1944-01-06
1944-01-14
1944-01-21
1944-01-22
1944-01-29
1944-02-01
1944-02-07
1944-02-19
1944-02-24
1944-02-25
1944-02-26
1944-03-06
1944-03-11
1944-03-13
1944-03-14
1944-03-23
1944-04-04
1944-04-12
1944-04-13
1944-04-20
1944-04-21
1944-04-24
1944-04-25
1944-04-27
1944-04-28
1944-05-08
1944-05-09
1944-05-10
1944-05-11
1944-05-26
1944-05-27
1944-06-12
1944-06-13
1944-06-15
1944-06-16
1944-06-17
1944-06-21
1944-06-22
1944-06-23
1944-06-24
1944-06-25
1944-06-26
1944-06-28
1944-06-29
1944-07-04
1944-07-08
1944-07-10
1944-07-11
1944-07-14
1944-07-15
1944-07-16
1944-07-17
1944-07-18
1944-07-19
1944-07-20
1944-08-05
1944-08-06
1944-08-07
1944-08-08
1944-08-09
1944-08-11
1944-08-12
1944-08-13
1944-08-14
1944-08-15
1944-08-25
1944-08-26
1944-08-27
1944-08-30
1944-08-31
1944-09-01
1944-09-02
1944-09-13
1944-09-14
1944-09-27
1944-10-01
1944-10-02
1944-10-19
1944-11-27
1944-12-05
1944-12-06
1944-12-11
1945-01-01
1945-01-18
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LSaundersEJ924532v1
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
128 Squadron
15 OTU
16 OTU
216 Squadron
38 Squadron
40 Squadron
627 Squadron
692 Squadron
Air Observers School
aircrew
Anson
Battle
bombing
Bombing and Gunnery School
C-47
Hudson
mine laying
Mosquito
navigator
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
Proctor
RAF Graveley
RAF Harwell
RAF Hendon
RAF Marham
RAF Oakington
RAF Shallufa
RAF Upper Heyford
RAF Wyton
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1627/25334/BThickettPSaundersEJv10014.2.jpg
b04ecf5f8216aef1ccaf310e1face577
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
Saunders, Ernest John. Album 1
Description
An account of the resource
A history of Sam Saunders RAF experiences complete with a biography. It is presented in an album.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Penny Thicket
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2020-02-13
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Saunders, EJ
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
In August and September 1943 Daddy was with 512 Squadron and there were more transportation flights in Dakotas but the routes had changed a little, Telergma (Constantine), Tunis, Monastir, Sfax, Maison Blanche, La Senia, Blida and Gibraltar. He occasionally flew as a 2nd pilot. There was a single flight to Reykjavik from Hendon via Prestwick on the 27th of August but no details are given.
Then in October he went to 271 Squadron. This involved flying in a lot of different planes around the British Isles; Harrows, Oxfords, Dominies, Tigers, Dakotas and Proctors...flying to Doncaster, Tollerton, Dunfries, Renfrew, Errol and Donibristle. There were circuits and 'bumps' and weather tests.
He talked about being given a role of instructor during this time, which he really disliked and it appears that he asked to return to active service and so there was the move to Bomber Command.
On the 12th of December he joined 627 Squadron, Oakington Cambridge, no doubt with apprehension and excitement, flying new planes and being fully involved in this decisive phase of the war.
627 Squadron had been formed just a month earlier and was part of Pathfinder Force (PFF) within Bomber Command, famous for reconnaissance and plotting the routes to be taken by bombers. 'Bomber' Harris was their Colonel in Chief.
The fast, unarmed manoeuvrable Mosquitos were initially taken through many air tests and landings. Daddy's last war operation had been in December 1942 and it's hard to imagine how he felt at this point but he always said that he had a”...really good war”...and as a young man excited by flying, to be part of this elite group must have been everything that he wanted.
The de [sic] Havilland Mosquito Mark 1 was a twin-engine fighter-bomber, the fastest and most agile plane in the sky. It was unarmed, to reduce weight and was sent to take photographs or drop bombs and get away quickly. Despite being make of wood and canvas this was the plane all the young airmen wanted to be in.
Two weeks after joining the Squadron, on Boxing Day he carried out War Operations 46 and 47, bombing Duisberg and Cologne with 4 x 500lb bombs.
[page break]
[black and white photograph]
Members of 627 Squadron in front of a De Havilland Mosquito. Flight Lieutenant Navigator Ernest Saunders is 7th from the right, back row.
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
Sam Saunders 627 Squadron
Description
An account of the resource
After a spell with 512 squadron mostly transportation flights Sam returned to the UK, flying as an instructor.
A the end of 1943 he returned to Bomber Command, 627 Squadron.
There is a photograph of the squadron grouped in front of a Mosquito.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Penny Thickett
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2013-10
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One printed sheet and one b/w photograph
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Text
Text. Personal research
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BThickettPSaundersEJv10014
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.
Algeria
Algeria--Algiers
Algeria--Constantine
Algeria--Oran
Gibraltar
Germany
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Duisburg
Great Britain
England--Doncaster
England--Nottingham
Scotland--Cowdenbeath
Scotland--Errol
Scotland--Renfrew
Iceland
Tunisia
Tunisia--Sfax
Tunisia--Tunis
North Africa
Iceland--Reykjavík
Tunisia--Munastīr
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Yorkshire
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
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Jan Waller
627 Squadron
aircrew
bombing
C-47
Dominie
Harris, Arthur Travers (1892-1984)
Harrow
Mosquito
navigator
Oxford
Pathfinders
pilot
Proctor
RAF Dumfries
RAF Oakington
RAF Prestwick
Tiger Moth
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1297/20289/LBoltonJD67631v1.1.pdf
bd5b0871e283106a18a5f4bd648c05e2
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
Bolton, J D
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. The collection concerns John Derek Bolton (915543, 67631) and contains two Log books and squadron maintenance log containing a memoir. He flew 80 operations as a pilot with 455, 571, 608 and 162 squadrons.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by David Bolton and catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-09-06
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
Bolton, JD
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
John Derek Bolton’s Pilots flying log book. One
Description
An account of the resource
Pilots flying log book for John Derek Bolton, covering the period from 18 October 1940 to 11 December 1945. Detailing his flying training, operations flown, instructor duties and post war flying duties. He was stationed at White Waltham, RAF Watchfield, RAF Cranwell, RAF Upper Heyford, RAF Swinderby, RAF Waddington, RAF Skellingthorpe, RAF Wigsley, RAF Finningley, RAF North Luffenham, RAF Upavon, RAF Mildenhall, RAF Bruntingthorpe, RAF Woolfox Lodge, RAF Bitteswell, RAF Warboys, RAF Oakington, RAF Downham Market and RAF Bourn. Aircraft flown were, Tiger Moth, Oxford, Anson, Hampden, Magister, Wellington, Whitley, Lysander, Master, Douglas DC3, Ventura, Lancaster, Martinet, Defiant, Mosquito, M18, Spitfire, Proctor, Hurricane, Auster and Beaufighter. He flew a total of 80 operations which included 30 with 455 squadron, 1 daylight and 29 night operations. 13 night operations with 571 squadron, 28 operations with 608 squadron, 27 night and 1 daylight, 9 night operations with 162 squadron. Targets were, Hamburg, Dusseldorf, Essen, Ameland, Wilhelmshaven, Hannover, Munster, Wangerooge, Mannheim, Aachen, Cologne, Lorient, Bordeaux, Lubeck, Bremen, Berlin, Gottingen, Scholven, Stuttgart, Frankfurt, Wanne Eickel, Karlsruhe, Brunswick, Kassel, Nuremberg, Osnabruck and Stralsund.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Mike Connock
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LBoltonJD67631v1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
France
Germany
Great Britain
Netherlands
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
England--Berkshire
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Leicestershire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Norfolk
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Oxfordshire
England--Rutland
England--Suffolk
England--Wiltshire
England--Yorkshire
France--Lorient
Germany--Aachen
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Braunschweig
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Essen
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Göttingen
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Lübeck
Germany--Mannheim
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Osnabrück
Germany--Stralsund
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Wanne-Eickel
Germany--Wilhelmshaven
Netherlands--Ameland Island
Germany--Münster in Westfalen
Germany--Wangerooge Island
France--Bordeaux (Nouvelle-Aquitaine)
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1941-09-07
1941-09-08
1941-09-11
1941-09-12
1941-09-15
1941-09-16
1941-09-29
1941-09-30
1941-10-01
1941-10-02
1941-10-12
1941-10-13
1941-10-23
1941-10-24
1941-10-28
1941-10-29
1941-10-31
1941-11-01
1941-11-04
1941-11-05
1941-11-08
1941-11-09
1941-11-30
1941-12-01
1941-12-27
1941-12-28
1942-01-06
1942-01-07
1942-01-08
1942-01-09
1942-01-10
1942-01-11
1942-01-26
1942-01-27
1942-01-28
1942-01-29
1942-02-07
1942-02-11
1942-02-12
1942-02-21
1942-02-22
1942-02-23
1942-02-24
1942-03-09
1942-03-10
1942-03-11
1942-03-13
1942-03-14
1942-03-24
1942-03-25
1942-03-26
1942-03-27
1942-03-28
1942-03-29
1942-04-06
1942-04-07
1942-04-10
1942-04-11
1942-04-12
1942-04-13
1944-06-22
1944-06-23
1944-06-24
1944-06-25
1944-06-26
1944-06-27
1944-07-05
1944-07-06
1944-07-07
1944-07-10
1944-07-11
1944-07-20
1944-07-21
1944-07-22
1944-07-24
1944-07-25
1944-07-26
1944-07-27
1944-07-28
1944-07-29
1944-07-30
1944-08-05
1944-08-06
1944-08-08
1944-08-09
1944-08-10
1944-08-11
1944-08-12
1944-08-13
1944-08-15
1944-08-16
1944-08-17
1944-08-18
1944-08-25
1944-08-26
1944-08-27
1944-08-28
1944-08-30
1944-08-31
1944-09-01
1944-09-04
1944-09-05
1944-09-06
1944-09-07
1944-09-16
1944-09-17
1944-09-27
1944-09-28
1944-10-01
1944-10-02
1944-10-06
1944-10-07
1944-10-10
1944-10-11
1944-10-16
1944-10-17
1944-10-23
1944-10-24
1944-10-29
1944-10-30
1944-11-08
1944-11-09
1944-11-25
1944-11-26
1944-11-28
1944-11-29
1944-11-30
1944-12-06
1944-12-07
1944-12-11
1944-12-12
1944-12-15
1944-12-16
1945-01-04
1945-01-05
1945-01-28
1945-01-29
1945-02-03
1945-02-04
1945-02-23
1945-02-24
1945-03-10
1945-03-11
1945-03-18
1945-03-19
1945-03-30
1945-03-31
1945-04-13
1945-04-14
1945-04-17
1945-04-18
1945-05-24
1945-07-04
1945-07-24
16 OTU
162 Squadron
25 OTU
29 OTU
455 Squadron
571 Squadron
608 Squadron
aircrew
Anson
Beaufighter
bombing
C-47
Cook’s tour
Defiant
Flying Training School
Hampden
Hurricane
Lancaster
Lysander
Magister
Martinet
mine laying
Mosquito
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
Pathfinders
pilot
Proctor
RAF Bitteswell
RAF Bourn
RAF Bruntingthorpe
RAF Cranwell
RAF Downham Market
RAF Finningley
RAF Mildenhall
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Oakington
RAF Skellingthorpe
RAF Swinderby
RAF Upavon
RAF Upper Heyford
RAF Waddington
RAF Warboys
RAF Watchfield
RAF Wigsley
RAF Woolfox Lodge
Spitfire
Tiger Moth
training
Ventura
Wellington
Whitley
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/467/20275/LBantingP1399810v1.2.pdf
f5a5a755a7d32eb0bb82a7c58f575f42
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
Banting, Peter
P Banting
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Banting, P
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. An oral history interview with Peter Banting (b. 1923, 1399810 Royal Air Force) his log book and a a piece of material containing signatures.
He flew operations as a bomb aimer with 75 and 7 Squadrons.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-03-15
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.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Peter Banting’s Royal Canadian Air Force flying log book for aircrew other than pilot
Creator
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Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
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Mike Connock
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Format
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One booklet
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LBantingP1399810v1
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.
Canada
France
Germany
Great Britain
Netherlands
Alberta--Edmonton
Alberta--Lethbridge
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
England--Buckinghamshire
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Norfolk
England--Suffolk
England--Wolverhampton
France--Aisne
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Dessau (Dessau)
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Essen
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Kamen
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Lübeck
Germany--Mönchengladbach
Germany--Nordhausen (Thuringia)
Germany--Plauen
Germany--Potsdam
Germany--Salzbergen
Germany--Wanne-Eickel
Germany--Wesel (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Wiesbaden
Netherlands--Rotterdam
Alberta
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Staffordshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
1944
1945
1946
1945-01-22
1945-01-28
1945-01-29
1945-02-01
1945-02-02
1945-02-03
1945-02-18
1945-02-20
1945-02-21
1945-02-23
1945-02-25
1945-02-27
1945-03-01
1945-03-04
1945-03-06
1945-03-07
1945-03-08
1945-03-10
1945-03-11
1945-04-03
1945-04-04
1945-04-08
1945-04-09
1945-04-10
1945-04-13
1945-04-14
1945-04-15
1945-04-22
1945-05-04
1945-05-09
1945-05-23
Description
An account of the resource
Royal Canadian Air Force flying log book for aircrew other than pilot for Peter Banting, bomb aimer, covering the period from 5 October 1943 to 11 July 1946. Detailing his flying training, operations flown and post war flying. He was stationed at RCAF Lethbridge, RCAF Edmonton, RAF Halfpenny Green, RAF Oakley, RAF Westcott, RAF Chedburgh, RAF Feltwell, RAF Mepal, RAF Warboys and RAF Oakington. Aircraft flown in were, Anson, Bolingbroke, Wellington, Stirling, Lancaster and Oxford. He flew a total of 25 Operations, 12 Daylight and 5 night operations with 75 Squadron and 2 Daylight and 6 night operations with 7 Squadron Pathfinders. Targets were Duisberg, Cologne, Krefeld, Mönchengladbach, Wiesbaden, Dortmund, Wesel, Gelsenkirchen, Kamen, Wanne Eickel, Salzbergen, Dessau, Essen, Nordhausen, Hamburg, Kiel, Plauen, Potsdam and Bremen. His pilots on operations were <span data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":200,"335559740":276}">Wing Commander Baigent and Flying Officer Rothwell. </span>He also flew Operation Manna to Rotterdam, and Operation Exodus to Lubeck and Juvencourt.
11 OTU
1653 HCU
7 Squadron
75 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
Air Observers School
aircrew
Anson
Bolingbroke
bomb aimer
bombing
Bombing and Gunnery School
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
Pathfinders
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Feltwell
RAF Halfpenny Green
RAF Mepal
RAF Oakington
RAF Oakley
RAF Warboys
RAF Westcott
Stirling
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/711/17279/MBlairJJ[Ser -DoB]-160509-01.pdf
e2e9d8182bf6e54b5b01c95e7baedfa6
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Blair, John
John Jericho Blair
J J Blair
Description
An account of the resource
38 items. The collection concerns John Jericho Blair DFC (1919-2004). He was born in Jamaica and served in RAF from 1942-1963. He flew a tour of operations as a navigator with 102 Squadron from RAF Pocklington. The collection includes numerous photographs of him and colleagues, several photographs of Jamaica, a document detailing his life and an interview with his great nephew Mark Johnson.
The collection also contains three interviews with Caribbean veterans including John Blair recorded by Mark Johnson.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Mark Johnson and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-05-09
Rights
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
Blair, JJ
Access Rights
Information about who can access the resource or an indication of its security status. Access Rights may include information regarding access or restrictions based on privacy, security, or other policies.
Permission granted for commercial projects
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
The Story of Flight Lieutenant John J Blair, DFC 102 (Ceylon) Squadron and 216 Squadron Royal Air Force
1942 to 1963
Author’s Note
This story is primarily the transcript of a taped interview with my Uncle John Blair that took place in 1997. Following the creation of the raw transcript, I researched several aspects of the story to fill in some gaps. Very sadly, Uncle John began to suffer the effects of Alzheimer’s Disease soon after I spoke to him, and he was unable to review this text. Any errors of fact contained in the story are therefore mine.
Mark Johnson
London, 2008
Chapter 1: On the Pedro Plains
Let’s start the story from the beginning, bearing in mind the fact that I was born way back in 1919. This was in the Pedro Plains district of the Parish of St. Elizabeth, in south‐western Jamaica – a real country parish where families barely got by on farming and fishing.
There were eight children in my family and I happened to be the last one. In fact, I really came out of the blue because the sibling I followed was seven years ahead of me. So I was the “little last one”, what they used to call in those days a “wash belly” child. Well anyway, there I was and so off I went, trying to catch up with the rest of my family.
Life in rural Jamaica had a very slow pace back then, there being no motor vehicles around, no television or radio, no electricity in fact, nor anything else that depended on that. Our farming and fishing community was labour intensive and used techniques that go way back to the olden days. Life followed the seasons; not those of the northern hemisphere, but ‘rainy season’, ‘hurricane season’ and even ‘mango season’!
We experienced long, dry, hot periods in Pedro Plains and rainfall has always been scarce there. The soil is very red and it’s a dusty place, with few trees. At many points sharp limestone rocks stick up out of the ground like little mountain peaks. When I was a child, most people still lived in thatched cottages. You made do and you recycled everything.
One of my brothers and two sisters, as well as my brother‐in‐law were all teachers, and in time the two men rose to prominent positions in the field of education in Jamaica. In those days, teachers were amongst a group of people who were held in high esteem within the community, as were nurses and doctors, veterinarians, police constables and the local postmistress. Nowadays it’s all about lawyers, politicians, musicians, gunmen and drug dealers, but back then, in Jamaica at least, we still lived by the old values.
As I was so much younger than my brothers and sisters, I didn’t have the opportunity to go to school at the same time as them. In fact, when I eventually started school one of my sisters, Jemima Blair, was already the teacher there. In the 1920s these country schools were tiny places with only a single class made up of children of all ages, and just the one teacher. This was old style primary education. The teacher stood at the front of the class and taught, while we sat at our little wooden tables and recited. When you weren’t supposed to be reciting, you kept quiet or else you would know what was coming next; a good hiding! You didn’t raise your hand and ask questions; questions were asked of you, and you had better know the answer.
I actually started school before I had reached the required age at that time, which was seven. I started at the age of five, and this created some interesting problems. One day there came a visit by a School Inspector. (In those days of British colonial government, the Inspectors were all Englishmen – we would have called them ‘white men’.) I recall that I was literally pushed out of the back of the building by my sister when the Inspector arrived so that questions about my age would not arise!
I remained in school in St. Elizabeth until I was ten years old and then my parents were forced to move away for work for a while, and my eldest sister, Clarissa, took me in. She was also a teacher and had married yet another teacher, a Mr. Enos Bertram Johnson, or ‘E.B.’ Johnson as he was called.
They lived in a teacher’s cottage in the parish of St. Mary, almost at the other end of the island. Mr. Johnson was a serious and imposing figure and a respected educator. He also led the local scout troop and I can remember the boys parading, all smartly dressed in their khaki uniforms, but barefoot – most of them could not afford shoes in those days. I spent about a year and a half with the Johnsons until my brother Stanley returned home from the Cayman Islands. Stanley was the other teacher in my family, and he later became a School Inspector himself. I moved to live with him where he was teaching in St. Ann and eventually, after yet another move, Ocho Rios is where we ended up.
Stanley’s teacher’s cottage was a ramshackle affair and in very poor condition. There was little in it in the way of furniture or fittings and things were so tough for the pair of us that as soon as my parents had returned to Pedro Plains, I was sent home. In reality, home was not much better than my brothers’ cottage that I had just escaped from. Nevertheless, I spent the rest of my time in elementary school there and, all in all, I can say that I received a good basic education.
When I reached the age of seventeen, I decided to become a teacher like many of my siblings and I made an attempt to enter the Mico Training College in Kingston as a trainee. Mico was highly regarded and competition for places there was intense. It took two attempts, but eventually I was successful and I spent three years at the College, and experienced life in the ‘big city’. I left there as a qualified teacher in elementary education and I soon joined the Greenwich School near Tinson Pen, Kingston where I taught for about a year and a half.
By now the Second World War had been in progress for a year and many local people were volunteering to serve in uniform, irrespective of their qualifications. Some were selected to do manual labour and others were considered capable of more sophisticated activities. Although we lived far from the centre of things, we all knew about what was taking place in Europe. In those days our educational curriculum was set by the Colonial Government, and it was essentially the same as that studied by English children. We were therefore more familiar with British history than we were with our own, and goings on in the war with Germany had been well publicised. I recall that a couple of my younger Johnson nephews in Kingston (E.B. and Clarissa’s sons) kept a map of Europe on their bedroom wall, and plotted the course of the war from the information they heard on the BBC news broadcasts. Their hero was the Soviet general, Zhukov.
The general view of Hitler was that he was a man who needed to be stopped. Although a lot of Jamaicans resented colonial rule, I don’t think anyone was confused about the difference between that and what the Nazis stood for. We felt that we were all in it together – all the small countries of the world.
So, it was with this attitude that I applied to the Royal Air Force (RAF) as ‘aircrew’, and I was accepted for training. Up until this time the official British policy was that only 'British born men, of British born parents, of pure European descent' could receive officer’s commissions in any of the services. The RAF was the first to relax the restriction as their officer casualties had been so high in relation to the other services, but the colour ban was not lifted in the Navy or the Army until 1948. It was for this reason that so many of the West Indian volunteers opted for the air force. Altogether, I understand that about a thousand West Indians served as RAF aircrew during the Second World War, while thousands also served in various ground staff capacities.
Having returned home briefly to bid farewell to my family, I left St Elizabeth on the fish truck that ran to Kingston regularly from in front of the old Post Office. My nephew George Henry was amongst those gathered to see me off and he told me much later that his earliest childhood memory is of me coming to say goodbye to his mother Jemima – my sister and former teacher. George was about three when I set off and he remembers that behind the Post Office fence there was a lot of broken glass lying on the ground. He thought at the time that this was where the war was!
That trip to Kingston on the fish truck was no small affair – it took hours. When we left St Elizabeth and started the long climb up Spur Tree Hill towards the town of Mandeville, the truck would begin to overheat. The brakes were so poor that when we stopped to top up the radiator, we had to jump down quickly and ‘cotch’ the rear wheels with large stones, otherwise the thing would just roll backwards down the hill and a lot of fish would be lost! In those days, by the time you got to Kingston you were in need of a vacation.
After a short period of orientation at Up Park Camp in Kingston about thirty of us, all RAF volunteers, left the island by ship in October 1942, bound ultimately for Canada. We were off to commence our training for war. So there I was, a 23 year old elementary school teacher from Pedro Plains, St Elizabeth, Jamaica, on my way to fly against the Nazi war machine.
Chapter 2: Cold Like the Devil!
Our journey from Jamaica was really quite comical at the outset. We were ordered to board an American ship and I remember the crew just looking at us coldly and pointing below decks, saying ‘You all go down there’; remember that in most parts a black man couldn’t even vote back then! When we descended to the first level, we saw a lot of empty bunks, so everyone selected a bed and we started to make ourselves at home. However, we did not have time to get too comfortable because within a few minutes an officer appeared and shouted, ‘No, not here, go down two more levels!’ And so we volunteers spent the rest of our time on that ship sitting in the hold!
This was my first time on the open sea, and my first time out of Jamaica, so I was fortunate to be in a good group. That ship pitched and rolled like crazy, and it was dark, hot and damp down there in the hold. Several men were sick and the smell in that confined place got quite bad, which didn’t help.
We stopped for a short time in British Honduras, as it was known then (now Belize) where we took on board some forestry workers who had volunteered for labour duties, as well as a few more RAF fellows. I chatted with some of the workers as our enlarged group squatted down below decks, and they said they were going to Scotland where they would be working in the forests, cutting timber – or so they believed. They probably ended up loading cargo, in the rain, in an English port somewhere.
We travelled together as far as New Orleans where we all disembarked, with a great deal of relief. The RAF party then travelled up to New York and spent about two weeks there waiting to be told where we should go next. This was an opportunity to have a good look around, and we made full use of it. Leo Balderamos from Belize joined me on a trip to the top of the Empire State Building, then the tallest structure ever built. Now that was something! Finally our orders arrived and we set off once again, bound for the largest RAF station in Canada, Monkton in New Brunswick.
That camp covered many acres and held a large number of trainees. I don’t know how many people were there in total, because all students coming from various parts of the United Kingdom to do their Air Force training came through there. Whether you were bound for training in Canada or in the United States, you would be shipped through this base, so it was a very, very large place indeed, swarming with recruits. Before we left Monkton, we got our first issue of uniforms and we were given our basic training.
This ‘basic training’ activity had nothing to do with flying; it was just the initial qualification for getting into any of the services. A lot of our time was taken up with morning parades, and this parade and that parade, and saluting here and saluting there, stamping your feet at every chance, and using rifles, which I had never touched before in my life. It was quite an initiation.
Our first uniforms were uncomfortable and they made you itch. In addition to the trousers and jacket, we had a heavy greatcoat and great big, black leather boots, with nails in the sole. These made a crisp sound as you marched and you felt as though you were already set to jump on the Germans. We had brass buttons to clean every night, as well as our boots, and lots of brass bits all over our belts and webbing. A lot of cleaning and polishing had to be done and the evenings were generally spent sitting on the edge of our bunks in the barrack room, shining our gear, and telling jokes or speculating about the future.
We left Monkton at the end of November 1942, there being twenty‐one of us remaining in our group now, and we were sent to an RCAF (Royal Canadian Air Force) training base. We spent more time there being familiarised with the Canadian military and Air Force systems.
Our group was what we would today describe as ‘multi‐cultural’. There were only two Englishmen and the group covered all shades from black to white to grey! One of the Englishmen was a teacher like me, although he taught at a college in the UK, and the other had been living in Belize. In those days it was common practice to describe a man by his colour, and it wasn’t necessarily derogatory – it depended on the tone and context. We all travelled together and lived together without tension.
After about three weeks of further basic training we were sent to Toronto. It was here that we would be classified for different roles, so this was a critical period for anyone who had ambitions to fly. We had lectures and exams on a variety subjects and the results determined which end of the airfield you were destined for. This was our ‘ironing out’ phase.
Those who failed to qualify for flight training went off to be trained for ground staff roles while those who had qualified were assigned to the next phase of training, in preparation for flying school or navigator’s training. The process really was conducted purely on the basis of qualifications, not race. Our two Englishmen were selected for preliminary flight training from our group, as was Arthur Wint (the famous Jamaican athlete) LO Lynch from Jamaica (who later won the prestigious) RAF Air Gunner’s Trophy) Leo Balderamos from Belize, and myself.
We spent quite a long time in this stage of training, and this was in the deep, dark Canadian winter, which I had never experienced before. I can remember that the snow was up around your knees if you were not careful where you went walking. Once they had broken us down into groups, those of us who were selected for flying were sent to McGill University, where we spent about 4 weeks in the classroom. Suddenly, myself
and Arthur Wint were sent to a special school up in Ottawa. Whatever unearthly reason there was for this was not explained at the time – it seemed the authorities had just pulled our two names up out of a hat. They hadn’t even made provision for our accommodation and we had to sort that out ourselves. Anyway, off we went as ordered, and on arrival it dawned on us that the Canadians had somehow got the idea that we didn’t know anything about maths.
When these special classes started, we realized that we were being taught the most basic levels of algebra and trigonometry and on the very first day we looked at each other and said, ‘This is a joke!’ Arthur said to me, ‘Look, let’s try and see what we can do to show these people who we actually are’.
When the teacher came into the room for the second session he set up a simple algebraic calculation on the blackboard and Arthur spoke up and asked him to set us a tougher challenge. The fellow looked at Arthur and said ‘Alright’; you could see that he thought Arthur was going to make a mess of it. Arthur got up and solved the problem on the board, and I recall that it was quite a complex one. Well, all I can tell you is that in no time flat we were back in training with the rest of our group!
Not long after this, almost as compensation, Arthur and I were sent on another special training course. This time we arrived at our destination to find that the course was an advanced flying course for experienced pilots. Once again, we were sent packing! Confusion reigned!
We now went to what was known as the Initial Training Wing. This was more advanced than anything we had done before and the place had a very modern feel to it. We knew that when we finished this stage of training we would be assigned our area of specialisation, becoming trainee pilots, navigators or bomb aimers. Although Arthur and I were joining a week late we joined forces and quickly caught up with the group.
Not long after we arrived, we were told that we had to attend a flying medical, which is more difficult to pass than the basic medical all servicemen and women had to take. At this stage, my flying career almost ended before I got off the ground.
We’d been out drinking up in Montreal, and we got back to base by train at about four o’clock in the morning. Almost as soon as we had arrived I heard a voice call out, ‘Blair! Medical!’ It took them all of ten minutes to ‘wash me out’ of aircrew!
I was now an outcast, sent away to what was known as the ‘Holding School’ in Toronto. This was an old exhibition hall, made up of several huge buildings with a variety of strange fixtures here and there (now empty) for the displays. I was alone as I left my group behind, and I arrived at the Holding School alone. It was a horrible feeling and when you walked into the place there were bunk beds stretching away as far as you could see ‐ nothing but beds! Anyway, at least I got a bed for myself this time.
Within this facility there was a holding office specifically for RAF people who had failed their courses and were going back to England without doing flight training. So it appeared that I too would go to England without any training, and with all these strange Englishmen! And boy, let me tell you, I had never seen so many of them in one place before. There were about five hundred men in my area alone, and if you take into account the whole compound, there were probably several thousand men there waiting to be shipped home. But I was there now on my own as I didn’t know anybody else in this large assembly.
After about three weeks cooling my heels, feeling rather low about my plight, I went and saw the Canadian Medical Officer. I told him what the problem was, and he said ‘Alright, we’ll give you another try’. He ran a series of tests, most of which involved looking at various coloured pictures and telling him what I saw. It was a hell of a job to do but I just told him what I saw and the very next day I was given a full medical. Two days later everything was cleared up and the MO called me to his office and said
‘Alright, we are going to send you back to the training school.’ That was a relief, I can tell you.
However, as I had missed almost a month of classes, I was now placed in a new group, and I was the only Jamaican, the only coloured man there; all my coloured friends had gone on ahead. This was a new experience for me, but as it turned out it was not a problem at all. I was treated just like another member of the team. In fact, I never had any problems with racism or unfair treatment throughout my career in the Royal Air Force, right up to 1963. This might be because I felt I knew what the dangers were and I didn’t expose myself to them. But I believe that one’s attitude was the most important factor.
I focused on the task at hand, and towards the end of this period I was informed that I had been selected for Navigator training. This was quite a responsibility because after the Pilot, the Navigator is the key man in the crew. I would have to navigate the route to and from the target, normally at night, using some complicated scientific aids, and often while under attack.
I was told that I had to know my aircraft’s position at any time, regardless of bad weather or enemy action to ensure the survival of aircraft and crew. This would all involve working constantly during any flight to keep my aircraft and its crew on track and on schedule. With my head down over the maps and instruments I would always be aware of the fact that any deviation from the prescribed course can take the aircraft across the path of the hundreds of other craft in the stream behind me, or leave us prey for enemy night fighters. Great concentration would be required, and for much of the flight the only contact I would have with the rest of the crew would be a few instructions and remarks on the intercom.
At flight school we flew a total of sixty four hour’s day flying and thirty eight hour’s night flying between 5th September 1942 and 28th January 1943, before we took our examinations and attempted to qualify. I passed the Navigator’s Course, which included
Navigation, Signals, Aircraft Recognition, Photography, Armament Training, and Day and Night Flying. It was intensive as we worked seven days a week, and very comprehensive, but enjoyable, and we were feeling increasingly confident about our potential. However, at this stage you were not yet ready for operations, no matter how cocky you might be feeling. In operational terms, you were just a baby that’s learning to walk, only half ready for the real thing.
We trained on Ansons, twin‐engine things, and the only navigational equipment we had back then was a map, a compass and a radio you had to tune in order to obtain your bearings. You had nobody else there to help you. The Anson only had room for the pilot, myself sitting behind him, and a second trainee Navigator who would sit in the co‐pilot’s seat. The other trainee and I would alternate, and whoever was navigating would scribble directions on course and airspeed for the pilot onto message pads and pass them forwards. The second Navigator would practice map reading as well, and also wind the landing gear up after takeoff and down before landing.
I remember my first flight as though it were yesterday. We squeezed into the aircraft, weighed down with all our gear, and sat there a while waiting for things to start. I was looking out of one of the windows at the little strip of runway beside me and thinking, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ The Pilot goes through his procedure, flicking a few switches and calling out the steps on his checklist. Then the port engine makes a kind of whining sound, then a splutter with lots of black smoke being whirled around by the propellers, and finally the engine roars into life and the whole aircraft starts to vibrate. That black smoke is worrying the first time you see it, but you soon get used to it.
The Pilot goes through the same procedure for the starboard engine, and before you realise what’s happening you are rolling down the runway. You speed up slowly, bumping along, and finally the Pilot heaves back on the stick and the aircraft seems to claw its way into the air. Looking out of the window, I could see the buildings, roads and fields diminishing in size below me until they looked like little toy structures.
You didn’t really go anywhere, each flight being a set piece event lasting between two and three hours, navigating from waypoint to waypoint. We also had to do of bombing exercises against dummy targets, so it was starting to feel like the real thing. I still have a picture of that particular course with only one black man in it! The rest are all Canadians and there’s that old Anson behind us.
Once I had completed this phase of training I was sent back to Monkton. On the way I stopped off in Toronto to visit one of the people I got to know there when I was at the Holding School, and who should I see while I was sitting at the railway station but Arthur Wint! Out of nowhere, there he was, big and tall, walking up to me. I was surprised, but happy to see him. Like me, he was now wearing a little white flash on his cap, to indicate that we were now ‘Flying Trainees’.
So after a long period without the company of my countrymen, I was able to travel with Arthur, back to Monkton. And we were big men now! Qualified! Arthur was a Pilot and I was a Navigator – it was a good feeling and we knew that we were part of a small group who had achieved something unique for that period in history. I remember that when we got to Monkton it was cold like the Devil! Oh man, the snow was falling, let me tell you, and I can still see Arthur and I struggling through it with all our bits and pieces. We were reminded that we were Officers now, and so we went to live in the Officers’ section of the base. We were well taken care of there and we met up with more Jamaicans who had also qualified. I recall that one of them was a Navigator and the other was a Bomb Aimer, but I no longer remember their names.
Although we were officers, we didn’t hear very much more about the progress of the war than we got on the news and in the papers. So, with all the training and preparation we had been doing we were just hoping to get into the front line before it was all over. It was now January 1944, and we knew that the Allies were winning. We were ordered to board ship once more, but this time we were bound for the UK and the war. There were still three of us from the original group travelling together, Arthur Wint, myself and one other.
We didn’t sail as part of a convoy although submarines were still active at that time. We sailed from Halifax on a huge troopship full of Canadians and landed in Glasgow. On this voyage we weren’t stuck in the hold, but space below decks was very limited all the same because of the large number on men on board. During the entire voyage I didn’t see another vessel and I know that we went far to the north, close to Iceland before turning south again. This route was the best for avoiding enemy submarines, although nobody mentioned that threat.
On arrival we were given forms to take to the local tailors, and there we were fitted for our new Officer’s uniforms. These were a great improvement on the kit we had been wearing up to that point. We were due some leave, but before we could head out into public view we had to get ourselves properly dressed.
There was no negative reaction to us at all from the people we met around our base ‐ they were glad to see us. For us, however, it was a very strange feeling at first to put on our new uniforms and walk into an English pub, although a few pints gave us some relief from the great pressure we felt. People expressed gratitude when they saw us. We would walk into a pub full of strangers and within a few moments someone would walk over and say ‘Please have a beer with me’. These were Yorkshire men and I will always have fond memories of those kind and friendly people.
It took us a fortnight to get fully kitted out, and as soon as we had achieved that we all headed in to London to enjoy our three week’s leave. The RAF had reserved hotels for its personnel in the city, and we were given free accommodation in one of these. We spent the next three weeks touring the city and seeing its famous sights for the first time, and of course drinking occasionally.
When we returned to our base in Yorkshire we were sent on a Battle Course which included the use of weapons in combat and many other aspects of infantry training – this was done in case we were shot down over enemy territory and had to fight to survive. Next it was back onto the Ansons for familiarisation flying over the UK. There
was a big difference between navigating in the wide open spaces of Canada where you really can’t lose your way, and England, where there is a new town every few miles which makes it much more confusing and challenging.
We were closer than ever to the day when we would have to go to war and once the familiarisation was finished we were posted to RAF Kinloss in Scotland. This was the stage when Pilots, Engineers, Gunners, and Bomb Aimers would be teamed up to form the crews who would fly and fight together. We were assembled in a large group in a cold hangar, and I don’t think any of us knew more than five or six of the other people in the group. Each Pilot was simply told, ‘Pick the rest of your crew’ from the group, and he would just walk around and pick people he liked the look of. Now, I was the only coloured man there as neither Arthur Wint nor the other Jamaican fellow who had come with us from Monkton had been posted to Kinloss.
So, I just stood there in this cold, noisy hangar and eventually a Canadian Pilot who was older than the average and who turned out to be very quiet person, came up to me and asked, ‘Will you come and fly with me?’ This was Ralph Pearson who would be my Pilot for the duration of the war. He then selected the two Gunners, one of whom was named Morris, and the Flight Engineer, Laurie Wilder, as well as his Wireless Operator. The Bomb Aimer would join us later, and he also turned out to be a Canadian. We were all strangers in this crew of seven. In a sense it’s an effective, if haphazard process, but at the same time you are now going off to war with a group of strangers, without so much as a formal introduction. Of course, we would soon get to know each other much better, and the strangers would become human, with good points and bad like any other person.
To start the process of building crew spirit and cohesion we were assigned a rather old aircraft now, a twin‐engine Whitley. We spent four weeks flying that old Whitley, and when I look back on it now I can only say that we must have been mad! That was an old aircraft! But it was tough. The Whitleys were solidly built because they were
designed just before the start of the war when the British realised they would have to fight, but it was built with pre‐war knowledge and this was by now a modern war.
Looking at my flying log today, I realise that we had to learn very quickly; fifty hours flying is not much time to prepare to fight with a new crew. As the Navigator, I was now using a radio system called Gee. This gave me directional readings from a beam transmitted from the ground. We had none of the new radar systems that some of the heavy bombers were equipped with. We only had the radio bearing from various points, a look out of the window to plot our track on the ground when the cloud cover allowed, and the Met reports – if you could actually find the wind blowing in the right direction that would put you on track and help you to stay on track.
Chapter 3: The Real Thing
Finally, our long and exhaustive training was over and we were considered ready for posting to an operational squadron – we were off to war. I was posted to 102 (Ceylon) Squadron, based at Pocklington in Yorkshire. During the Second World War the Squadron flew bombers, first Whitleys, and then the Halifax 2 from 1942 to 1944. In 1944 they were upgraded to the Halifax 3 and then with the Halifax 6 in early 1945, and I flew the last two Halifax models during my tour of duty.
The addition of the word ‘Ceylon’ was granted to the Squadron after the inhabitants of what we now call Sri Lanka adopted the Squadron and set aside some of their savings towards its maintenance. The squadron was made up of men from Great Britain, Canada, Ceylon, the West Indies, Australia and New Zealand, among other places.
The squadron history says that 102 (Ceylon) saw non‐stop action over Europe from 1939 to 1945. In 1944 the Squadron flew its highest number of sorties. (A sortie means one aircraft on one operational mission). 2,280 were flown of which 308 took place in August. The Squadron supported the D‐Day landings in June 1944 in Normandy, bombing a coastal gun battery that could have opposed the Allied operation. Other major targets during the war included Berlin, Cologne, Frankfurt, Hamburg, Munich, and the Ruhr industrial area, Turin, Genoa and Milan, all of which were struck from our base in Yorkshire.
I arrived at the squadron in December 1944 and if you just look at a sample from the list of 102’s losses for that period you can get a hint of what we were about to face. We lost eight aircraft out of a total of twenty four in just the first three weeks following my arrival, and six of those went down over Germany – that’s 50% losses in less than a month, and I still had five months of wartime flying ahead of me!
24 Dec 1944 – Halifax MZ871DY‐G, target Mülheim, crashed near Neuss, Germany, two crewmembers killed, one missing, four taken prisoner.
24 Dec 1944 – Halifax LW168DY‐O, target Mülheim, hit by flak and crashed near Krefeld, Germany, one crewmember killed, one missing, five taken prisoner.
29 Dec 1944 – Halifax MZ426DY‐D, target Koblenz, damaged in combat, one crewman wounded.
01 Jan 1945 – Halifax LW158DY‐P, target Dortmund, undershot on landing and hit house, entire crew injured.
02 Jan 1945 – Halifax NR186, training, overshot and crashed, crew uninjured.
05 Jan 1945 – Halifax MZ796DY‐M, target Hannover, hit by flak and crashed at Neustadt, Germany, five crewmen killed, two taken prisoner.
05 Jan 1945 – Halifax LL597DY‐X, target Hannover, shot down over Germany, five crewmen killed, three taken prisoner.
05 Jan 1945 – Halifax NA602DY‐Y, target Hannover, shot down over Germany, seven crewmen killed, one taken prisoner.
16 Jan 1945 – Halifax LW179DY‐Y, target Magdeburg, shot down over Germany, all eight crewmen killed.
So, this was it. We had a short familiarisation course on the Halifax, just twenty one daylight hours and eight at night and then we were thrown into the thick of it; “There’s your plane, there’s the target, now get on with it”!
Our first flight was a bombing exercise with the new aircraft, because it was even more sophisticated than the one on which we had done our training. We also did some cross‐country flying to ensure that we were familiar with the country around our base. This was on a Halifax Mark III. The crew was all lined up by now, and a good crew it was too! Together we would survive the next five months of battle, and thirty three bombing missions over Germany, without a single casualty.
Sixty years on, I am embarrassed to admit that I can’t recall all the names. However, the Pilot was the Canadian from Vancouver, Pearson, who had first picked me
out of the crowd in that hangar in Scotland. I remember that the two Gunners were Englishmen, one for the mid‐upper turret, and one for the tail. The Wireless Operator or Radio Operator was a Scottish fellow, the Engineer was an English gentleman from around Liverpool, the Bomb Aimer was from Canada, and of course there was I –all the way from Jamaica! It was an international crew all right, but we all got on well together, and worked as a tight knit team.
We all had to learn the special language of the air force. Many people, particularly the more senior officers, really did talk in the fashion that you only hear in old war films today. By now, this manner of speech had become a habit for me also, and I recall that when I returned home it caused some amusement.
On the 21st of December 1944 we took off for the real thing. The target for our first operational mission was Cologne, classified as an ‘Industrial Target’ and the scene of many casualties on both sides during this stage of the war.
A lot goes on during a mission, both before and after takeoff, and much of it is just a blur now. I had been afraid of feeling fear, if you understand what I mean, but when the time came I found that I had so much to do that I simply didn’t have time for feelings. I experienced this on all the operational trips I made ‐ you just don’t have time for it. During the flight you have to make sure that you stay with your group and your timing must be absolutely right. There is simply no room for error.
During our briefing we were told when to get to each waypoint, one after the other, and finally the time to be at the bomb release point, which was absolute and inflexible. You see there was not just one aircraft on missions like this; there would be hundreds of planes up there with you, sometimes as many as a thousand. We would typically have two hundred or more aircraft attacking any on one target at a time. We would fly to the target in a long column of aircraft, called the ‘bomber stream’ and you needed to know exactly which section you were in, where you were in relation to the
other sections of the stream, and where you needed to be next, to avoid colliding with any of the hundreds of planes in the air around you.
Collisions were commonplace and they caused many casualties. It wasn’t unheard of for the bomb load to detonate as well, and I know of at least one case where this happened and three nearby aircraft were brought down, along with the one that exploded first.
Let me try to describe the experience of setting off on my first mission. I had finished an intensive and extended period of training and I felt ready for this first operational flight, but let me tell you, it’s not an easy thing to do; it’s a hard, hard thing. That first morning we were all told that we were scheduled to fly that night. ‘On duty tonight’ they said. We were given this warning at about ten o’clock in the morning, and the mission took place between ten that night and two o’clock the following morning. In that four hour period we would have had to complete the total course to the target, drop our bombs and get back to the UK, but as the Navigator I also had a lot of work to do in the time remaining before takeoff.
We had lunch, and then, clutching our navigational charts, the navigators from each Squadron aircraft headed off to our briefing, where we were told the identity of the target and the track to be flown. Most of the crew was still in the dark, and didn’t yet know where we were going, so they had more time to ponder. I took out my maps and drew in the route. This zigzag course is designed to confuse the enemy. It was made up of a series of legs, each ending at a waypoint, and each going in a different direction, because if you just fly straight to the target, the enemy will be fully prepared, ready and waiting.
Walking out to the aircraft for that first operational flight was like walking through deep mud, or a strong wind. I felt as though we were moving in slow motion and my legs didn’t seem to want to carry me out there. Mentally though, I wouldn’t say I was afraid as such. I was just unusually aware of my surroundings and completely focused
on the task at hand to the exclusion of all other thoughts. The time for thinking was past; it was time for action now.
I sat at my little table with the charts laid out before me, and listened to the talk on the intercom as the Pilot went through the now familiar procedures for takeoff. Then we were trundling over the surface of the airfield towards the runway, the four engines drowning out all other sounds. A brief pause at the end of the runway followed, while we awaited clearance to takeoff from the Controller. Then the engines went to maximum power as Pilot Officer Pearson set the throttles to full, and we started to bounce and vibrate our way down the runway, gradually picking up speed, before straining into the air. The vibration ended, the undercarriage came up with a heavy ‘thunk’ and we were airborne. Eventually the engines settled to a steady drone, and we turned and climbed to form up with the rest of the Squadron. The takeoff and ensuing climb allowed us to gain the prescribed height, but the real action began when we crossed the English coastline and headed towards Europe.
The pilot didn’t have the vast array of gauges and instruments that the pilots of a modern bomber possess. There was an altimeter, to show the current height above sea level, a tachometer to display airspeed, an attitude indicator that showed the angle of the aircraft relative to the horizon, RPM indicators for each of the four engines, a compass and a few other dials. Flying a heavily loaded bomber in congested airspace with none of today’s tools required real skill and could be physically demanding.
In those old Halifax’s and even in the Lancaster I flew in later, the Navigator couldn’t see or hear much at all. I sat behind a little curtain because I didn’t want to expose a light that might attract a night fighter. We kept red lights on to read the maps and the fighter would be on the lookout for any little flash of light in the black sky. Initially, he would have used radar to find your approximate location, but in those days radar wasn’t yet accurate enough to guide him precisely to you. The Germans had jet fighters in the air as well at this stage of the war, and let me tell you, they didn’t waste time – quick as the devil those things were.
The two gunners had a different perspective. The Mid‐Upper Turret Gunner had his head literally protruding from the top of the aircraft, protected from the elements by a Perspex cone. This gunner would be constantly revolving his turret throughout the flight, scanning 360 degrees for any sign of enemy aircraft. The Tail Gunner sat alone at the rear of the plane and he had a more limited field of view. His mount was a ball‐ shaped device that also protruded form the body of the aircraft, and he could swivel his guns left and right, but to a limited extent.
As I said, I couldn’t see a great deal from my position and for most of the journey I had my head down over my charts and instruments, working hard to keep us on track. In addition to several maps of northwest Europe and a collection of odd bits of paper, protractors, rulers and various coloured pencils, I had repeats of the altimeter, airspeed indicator, and the compass in front of me. I recall that next to these in a Lancaster was also a device called the Air Position Indicator which indicated our latitudes and longitudes, but I don’t recall whether we had this tool in the older Halifax bombers. Occasionally, I would get up to take a quick look outside to check the Met and get a fix on our position, but while we were over the target I couldn’t see the effect of our bombs or indeed any of the flak that was exploding outside the aircraft.
So, the work of guiding the pilot there and guiding him home again, is the navigator’s, and it’s is hard work I can tell you. And while we were doing this twisting and turning there were hundreds of other aircraft in the black night sky beside us, above us, below us, everywhere, but you couldn’t see a single one. This entire thing was done at night!
I recall that for this mission we were divided into three waves, and these were further broken down into flights of aircraft. Our wave, the first, would be over the target at midnight, and we would take ten minutes to pass over it, releasing our payload of bombs as we went. The first flight would bomb at the appointed time precisely, while the flight behind would bomb a minute later, and the next flight a minute after them until the entire wave of bombers had finished and the second wave would start. So it
stretched on over a fairly long period of time, and a large slice of the sky, and in order to be on time you had to work out exactly what your speed needed to be with great accuracy. Getting that right was very important indeed.
The first thing we noted as we approached the enemy coast was the searchlights and we knew that German night fighters were out there in the dark looking for us. Then, as we approached Cologne there were more searchlights and lots of flak (anti‐ aircraft fire) over the target. The actual bombing run, the last leg leading in to the target, only took about ten minutes between the time we turned onto it and the time we released our bombs. When the bombs fell from the bomb bay, in the belly of the aircraft, the plane leapt upwards as it was now much lighter. I felt my heart leap upwards as well, happy to be rid of all that high explosive. After the bombs were safely away, we twisted and turned as we left the target in case there were enemy fighter aircraft waiting to hit us, and then we made our way home through the dark, back to our base away over the sea.
Once we had cleared the target and cleared the zone where we could expect to meet enemy night‐fighters, I felt quite relaxed. I think that my experience was shared by many other crew members. We had too much work to do and everything you did had to be re‐checked, because you can’t make mistakes. A mistake in those conditions could be fatal.
Throughout the flight I could hear the other crew members talking on the intercom. When the gunners spotted a fighter they would call out its position and the whole crew would be aware of the threat. If you were some distance from the target you could manoeuvre up and down, but not sideways. Once in the bomber stream you can’t go left or right, and if you were to turn in there, across the path of the stream, God help you!
On that first night we had attacked the important Cologne/Nippes rail marshalling yards which were being used to serve the final German offensive in the Ardennes. No
aircraft were lost and the target was cloud‐covered, so only a few bombs hit the railway yards but I later read that these caused the destruction of 40 wagons, a repair workshop and several railway lines.
I don’t know if photographs of the results of that raid are still available, but the picture below, showing the Giessen yards in March 1945 will give you some idea of what was involved. In the centre you can just make out the railway tracks with several trains on them, and all around you can see the craters made by the bombs when they detonated.
Three days later, on the 24th December, Christmas Eve, we set out on our second operational mission (‘Ops II’ as it’s called in my log book) to bomb Mülheim. There were ‘bags’ of flak waiting for us and the attack was what we called ‘a complete hang up’; a nasty business. Altogether there were 338 aircraft on this mission, attacking the airfields at Lohausen and Mülheim (now Düsseldorf and Essen civil airports).
Three Halifax aircraft on the Mülheim raid were shot down, two of which were from my squadron. I later learned that of the fourteen men who went down in those two aircraft, three were confirmed killed, nine were taken prisoner and two were listed as missing. I think the missing men eventually turned out to have died.
You see, the danger we faced was not just in the air. Even if you were shot and down, managed to escape the aircraft and parachute to the ground you were still in a great deal of danger as you were descending on the very people you had been engaged in bombing only a few minutes earlier. When you think about it, it’s really amazing that anyone was ever taken prisoner.
While I flew that second ‘Op’, Sergeant Arnie Coope and his crew from 102 Squadron were among the three crews shot down. This is what he later wrote about his experience on that night.
“As I hung suspended, (in my parachute) frightened and all alone, I watched the rest of our bombers complete their mission and head back home for the Christmas festivities and at this stage I looked at my watch – it was only 1430 hours.
“As I neared the ground, I could see people converging towards where I was expected to land and I got the distinct impression that I was shot at several times. I thought that I had better do something about this so I jerked around in the harness and just hung limp until I hit the ground with a thump. I was immediately surrounded by a hostile crowd, but before they could do something to me, soldiers arrived.”
It’s a very sad thing, but the truth is that some of 102 (Ceylon) Squadron crews shot down on the same mission were lynched by angry mobs of German civilians. You can only speculate on the chances of survival for a Jamaican airman landing in Hitler’s Reich! Luckily for me, I was in one of those aircraft that Arnie Coope could see, still flying overhead.
Ops III and IV saw us heading to Koblenz on the 29th, when Halifax MZ426DY‐D was damaged in combat and one crewman was wounded, and then back to Cologne on the 30th of December. In spite of the damage to one of our squadron aircraft, no aircraft were lost and at least part of the bombing of each raid hit the railway areas. The Koblenz‐Lützel railway bridge was out of action for the rest of the war and the cranes of the Mosel Harbour were put out of action by our group.
Our attack on the 30th December, 1944 was directed at the area of the Kalk‐Nord railways yards, near Cologne. There was heavy cloud cover over the target and we could not observe the effect of our bombing, but later reports indicated that two ammunition trains had blown up, and that we had badly damaged the yards, two railway stations and the nearby Autobahn. The cumulative effect of these raids, and many of those that followed, was to severely hinder the German’s ability to move troops and critical supplies to the battlefront.
Between 2nd and 22nd January, 1945 we flew another six missions (Ops V to Ops X) dropping our bombs on Ludwigshafen, where we destroyed the IG Farben chemical works (this company produced the gas used in the Nazi extermination camps); Hanau where the wind scattered our bombs over a wide area of the city; Saarbruken railway yards which were hit accurately; Dulmen Luftwaffe fuel storage depot, where our bombs landed in open fields; the city of Magdeburg, an area target; and Gelsenkirchen where residential and industrial zones were targeted.
Our crew didn’t fly on the 5th January, but the Squadron did attack Hannover and had a rough night, losing three aircraft at the cost of seventeen men killed and six taken prisoner. I believe that at least one of our squadron aircraft was shot down by a night fighter piloted by Hauptman Georg‐Hermann Greiner, who shot down a total of four of our bombers in only ten minutes that night, the other three being Lancasters. Greiner was a Luftwaffe Ace, who shot down a total of 51 allied aircraft during the war. At the time we didn’t know much at all about the identities of the enemy pilots, but later I was able to learn that several hardy and highly skilled German night fighter aces continued to engage us right up to the end of the war and some of the top enemy pilots survived the war.
On the Magdeburg run, on 16th January, our compasses stopped working, and we had to navigate without them (quite a challenge) but we got home in one piece. We suffered heavy losses during this attack, which also destroyed 40% of that city. Altogether, 17 Halifax aircraft were lost, representing 5.3% of our attacking force. Halifax LW179DY‐Y from our own Squadron, and flown by Squadron Leader Jarand, was shot down over Germany on this mission with all 8 crewmen killed, bringing the total number of men killed in 102 Squadron to 29 in just 4 weeks. Nevertheless, although we didn’t know it then, we were through the worst. In the last months of the war our squadron lost only another 5 aircraft. Other squadrons were less fortunate and continued to lose men and aircraft right up to the end.
The effect of our bombs on the target was devastating, particularly when large cities were struck. Later in the war when daylight raids were more frequent, I had the chance to observe some of these targets from the air, and as the photographs show, there was almost nothing left standing in most German city centres.
On 29th January 1945 we headed for Stuttgart on Ops XI. This time our bomb load ‘hung up’, meaning that the bombs wouldn’t release and we had to release them manually. This was a difficult business at twenty thousand feet, the crew labouring over the high explosive cargo with the bomb doors open and the screaming dark rushing by beneath their feet. We finally got the bombs away and landed at Tangmere. A combination of cloud, dummy target indicator rockets set off by the Germans, hilly terrain and dummy target fires, also started by the enemy meant that our bombing was very scattered and in this final RAF raid against this city, and casualties on the ground were relatively light on that night.
I continued to feel as though a great weight had been lifted off me each time the bombs were released. We still had flak and fighters to face, but at least we were rid of all the explosives we had been carrying. There was a collective sigh of relief, because if we had been hit with the explosives still on board – oh Christ! A hit in those circumstances means that there is a chance that the whole aircraft would simply blow up before we even hit the ground. Even if we did hit the ground in one piece, we would certainly explode.
Only a third of my way through the tour, I was already a veteran. Our squadron had already lost 8 aircraft out of a full strength of 24 since I joined. Of course, each loss was replaced as it occurred, so we were generally at full strength. And so the sequence repeated itself, night after night. Sitting in the briefing room with my fellow navigators, listening to details of the weather and the target, noting the details of flak positions on my charts and trying not to think about enemy fire. Walking to the aircraft in the evening twilight with the rest of the crew, clambering aboard through a narrow hatch
and sitting at my navigation table, listening to the nervous chatter on the intercom. The aircraft engines starting, belching that black smoke, their whine rising to a roar, the aircraft lumbering and jolting down the runway, taking me with it regardless, straining to lift itself off the ground, clawing at the cold air and climbing up into the night sky. The long, bumpy flight over dark countryside and black waters, turning this way and that. The long hours of waiting and then the enemy night fighters coming out of nowhere at high speed, guns firing all around, other aircraft burning as they fall, their crews dying, beyond any help I could offer. Then the flak and searchlights over the target, the aircraft leaping upwards as the bombs fall away, the steep dive to low‐level flight, and skimming over the trees and the black water back to base, for hot tea and eggs and bacon, and sleep, and trying not to think about the comrades who would never come home again.
On 2nd February, our bombing was again frustrated by cloud and it is reported that we did not hit the oil refinery we were trying to get at. We then lost an engine due to enemy fire over Wanne Eickel, and once more we flew home on three engines. There was the usual crack of flak going off around us, and then we heard a sudden loud bang and the aircraft was shaken violently. Our starboard outer engine died immediately and we lost some altitude before the pilot was able to level the aircraft. A mission over Bonn followed, and then we had a tough time with the flak over Goch on Op XIV and at Wesel, where cloud forced us to abort the attack, on Op XV.
The anti‐aircraft fire was always extremely unpleasant, but we soon learned that we just had to live with it. On most missions, our commanders would attempt to route us around known enemy flak concentrations so that our route through the air to the target would depend on the position of the gunners on the ground. But many of those guns were mobile and the Germans would switch locations so that at least some of their fire simply couldn’t be escaped. In those circumstances you had to fly on through the shell bursts and hope for the best. Of course, there was always plenty of flak
surrounding the target. We knew that wherever the target was, it was going to be loaded with flak, and once we got there we just had to say, well, ‘Here goes!’
The Goch raid comprised 464 aircraft and was intended to prepare the way for the attack of the British army across the German frontier near the Reichswald; the Germans had included the towns of Goch and Kleve in their strong defences there. Our Master Bomber ordered us to come in below the cloud with the rest of the Main Force and as the estimated cloud base was only 5,000ft the attack was very accurate at first. However, the raid was stopped after 155 aircraft had bombed, because smoke was causing control of the raid to become impossible. We didn’t bomb for this reason, but our course took use through the smoke and directly over the target, nevertheless.
Considerable damage was caused in Goch but I read later that most of the inhabitants had probably left the town. Kleve was also attacked, and the photograph of that town below shows the effect. One of our aircraft was lost during this attack, and although several of the crew parachuted to safety and returned to Pocklington, the pilot didn’t get out in time and he burned to death in the crash.
On the 21st, while hitting the city of Worms, of which 39% was destroyed, we had an extended tangle with German fighters. Several of these infiltrated our formation and made good their attacks and 25 bombers were shot down over various parts of Germany that night, 8 of them from our mission. Hauptmann Greiner was active again, shooting down two of our aircraft. Flying with him that night were three more German aces; Gunther Bahr, Heinz Schnaufer and Heinz Rökker who between them accounted for 24 of the 25 bombers downed. So you see, some of these enemy pilots were coming up at us and shooting down 6 or 7 bombers each in one night, single handed. You can read about the fellows I named here in the Appendix.
I judge that the stress put on a German fighter pilot must have been much greater than that put on the crew of one of our bombers, simply because we had more eyes watching the night sky around us. We were flying in such massive formations that, as
long as we stayed on course and on schedule, the odds of a fighter targeting our plane specifically were relatively low. At the same time, as we were flying a big, heavy bomber, we would never go off chasing the enemy.
So, if he chooses to attack the main bomber stream, the fighter pilot finds that he’s operating at a major disadvantage. If he does come close (and many did) and picks a target, all the nearby aircraft would swing their guns towards the single fighter and he would find himself facing very heavy fire. It took great courage on the enemy’s part. At the same time, all of our gunners, excluding the ones in the aircraft actually being attacked, would know that they were in no immediate danger and they could operate without that pressure. They knew that they had a chance to get the fighter while it hadn’t a hope in hell of hitting them.
What this meant was that, nine times out of ten, the fighters would go after the stragglers and ‘strays’ – aircraft that had dropped out of formation due to damage or poor navigation. Imagine, if you can, a huge, dense stream of aircraft, with the odd wayward fellow off to one side, below, or lagging behind. These were the ones who would most likely be picked off by the night fighters, who would come in like sharks, nibbling at the edge of the ‘fish’ in the bomber stream.
The majority of the German night fighters were actually modified fighter‐bomber and light bomber aircraft that were no longer effective in daylight. These twin‐engine planes had been fitted with radar and extra armaments to enable them to find and destroy allied bombers in the dark. The crews were specialists who flew only at night, and they belonged to elite ‘Nachtjagd’ or night fighter units.
Most of those enemy fighter pilots would attack us from behind and below, because that was our blind spot. The enemy aircraft often had special gun mountings, fitted to point slightly upwards to support this direction of attack, in a configuration the Germans called ‘Schräge Musik’. This meant that the Tail Gunner was critical to our defence and he had to be constantly alert. Many tail gunners were killed during the war
and it wasn’t unknown for the whole tail gun assembly to be shot off, with the gunner in it. That was a hard way to go and there was no way to bail out of a tail gun position as it spun to earth. As soon as either of the gunners saw an enemy fighter coming in they would call out, and the whole crew would know that we were under attack.
We rarely had prolonged engagements with the enemy fighter pilots. They would come in fast and try and get in close, but our gunners were very good and the enemy would generally be chased off after one or two passes, because for obvious reasons they were not for pressing forward when our fire was accurate. Navigation was an important factor in this. If you could stay on course you would have the company of many other aircraft with all the tail gunners and top gunners in your vicinity firing simultaneously. The enemy didn’t approve of that. You needed steady nerves and lightening reflexes to survive however, and the wayward paid a heavy price.
Below is one of the claim forms the enemy would fill out if they shot you down, so that their victory would be recorded against their name. I am happy to say that I was never referred to on any of these!
The month of February 1945 came to a close with attacks on the huge Krupps armaments works at Essen where the Germans recorded that we were very accurate, dropping 300 high explosive and 11,000 incendiaries on the target. We also made an attack on the synthetic oil plant at Kamen. In the final week of the month we were upgraded to the Halifax VI bomber, which had better engines and a longer range, and on the 25th we flew a cross country to familiarise ourselves with this aircraft.
We returned to Cologne for the third time on Ops XIX on 2nd March 1945. That city really took a hammering from us and others during this period, and the damage was very extensive, as the picture shows. There really was almost nothing left in the centre of most of these German cities. Four days after this raid, American troops captured what remained of Cologne.
Another trip to Kamen the following night saw us being hit by intruders once again, this time on the return leg as we crossed the coast of England. The enemy had adopted a new tactic that involved attacking our forces as we were preparing to land, and on this first occasion it caught us completely by surprise. Once again we had been forced to fly home on three engines owing to a technical problem. I don’t know if Greiner was in the air near us, but Luftwaffe records show that he shot down three more Lancaster bombers on that night. This time, however, we had hit the synthetic oil plant without suffering any losses in our squadron, and that plant never went back into production after that attack.
In the week that followed we struck Chemnitz and dropped mines in Flemsberg Fjord. The Chemnitz raid required us to takeoff in icy conditions, and one squadron lost several aircraft due to mid‐air collisions.
One of my 102 Squadron pilots, Flight Lieutenant Jim Weaver, wrote this account of a raid on Stuttgart in July 1944, which gives a good idea of what the experience was like for most of us.
“It was a nice run up to the target with instructions from the Master Bomber, then ‘Bomb doors open’, ‘Left, left’, ‘Right, right’, ‘Steady’, ‘Bombs gone!’ The Halifax jumped up, relieved of its burden and now there was the long 25 seconds while the photo was taken and then ‘Bomb doors closed’. This whole procedure was not long in time but seemed to be the most intense part of the trip, especially over the most heavily defended targets.
“Leaving Stuttgart, it gradually became quieter, but exceptionally dark when suddenly, all hell broke loose. Tracers and cannon shells were tearing into the tail assembly and port wing. Almost instantaneously, I reacted with a dive to starboard, away from the tracers as, obviously, the fighter was astern. I shouted to the rear gunner ‘Paul – get that guy!’ It was a Junkers 88 astern, below and to starboard. The defensive
action we took brought him up in full view of the rear gunner who shot him down, seeing it break up with a fire and explosion around one of its engines.”
I was lucky as I was too busy to be frightened. But there were others who weren’t busy enough! I wouldn't have wanted to be sitting down there all alone in the tail of the aircraft as a tail gunner, waiting for a night fighter to come in and take pot shots at me. Nor would I want to have been a pilot, forced to hold the aircraft straight and level while flying into flak, able to see everything that was coming up at me. With all that twisting and turning and with the need to be accurate at all times I was simply too busy to worry. As I told you before we never seemed to fly in the same direction for more than 50 miles. Every five minutes we would turn left or turn right, descend or ascend in order to make sure that the enemy couldn't train their guns on us.
It was the same on every mission and I was always just three or four minutes from the next turn, working like crazy to get everything ready. Some of the other crewmembers really had nothing to do, unless the fighters came in to attack us. They were the men who suffered, you see, because they were just sitting there waiting, and that is a hell of a lot of pressure to put on anybody. We navigators were too busy to think about what could happen, and fortunate to have this responsibility.
We hit the shipyards in Hamburg on the 8th March, and then on the 11th we took part in the last ‘thousand bomber raid’ on Essen. Essen was a major target in the heart of Germany’s industrial centre, the Ruhr, and large raids had headed this way repeatedly. RAF reports said later that 1,079 aircraft of all bomber groups attacked Essen this night. This was the largest number of aircraft sent to a target so far in the war. Three Lancasters were lost but 4,661 tons of bombs were dropped through complete cloud cover. The reports stated that the attack was accurate and that this great blow virtually paralysed Essen until the American troops entered the city some time later. This was the last RAF raid on Essen, which had been attacked many times. Most of the city was now in ruins. 7,000 people had died in the air raids and the pre‐war
population of 648,000 had fallen to 310,000 by the end of April 1945; the rest had left for quieter places in Germany.
Wuppertal, Bottrop and Witten were attacked by us between the 13th and 19th March. The flak over Bottrop on 15th March was very bad and one Halifax was shot down. The Witten raid was an area attack and it destroyed 129 acres of the city, or 62%, including both industrial and residential districts.
We then had two dream missions, with almost no enemy action being observed, over Dulmen and Osnabruck at the end of March, although we lost an engine due to technical problems on the 25th and had to return from Osnabruck on three. I was getting used to that by this time. These were both area attacks, and we could see large fires and lots of dust and smoke as we flew away from the target.
With only four Ops to go to complete my tour, and counting down, we returned to Hamburg for the last time on 8th April, 1945 to attack the shipyards. Altogether, 3 Halifaxes and 3 Lancasters were shot down that night, and this also turned out to be the final RAF raid on the city. The following night we dropped more mines into the Flemsburg Fjord.
On 13th April we bombed Nuremburg, the future site of the war crimes trials. This city had a special meaning for me as a black person. It was here that the huge Nazi rallies were held, and here that the German race laws were created in the 1930s. I could recall hearing mention of this place many times in my late teens and early twenties. To be flying in one of the aircraft assigned to bomb the city provided a reminder that the journey I had taken and the risks I had shared were in a just and important cause.
Finally, on 18th April, 1945 we flew our last mission of the war, Op XXXIII, thirty three operational flights being the compulsory allotment. On this final mission we attacked a fortified island near Heligoland called Wangerooge, and that was a hell of a
‘prang’, I can tell you. This place was armed and defended like no other place in the world, but we really gave them a hammering, although 3 Halifaxes were also lost.
I don't recall exactly how many aircraft were committed for this attack, I think it was a hundred, but I can tell you it was a large force because of the heavy fortifications on that island, which included thick reinforced concrete bunkers and many antiaircraft batteries. It was one hell of a blast and the attack was made in daylight. We carried very heavy bombs specially designed to pierce the thick ceilings of the enemy bunkers, and there were also fighter‐bomber aircraft involved, smaller than the heavy bombers, that carried rockets to attack and suppress the antiaircraft positions.
On that final raid, after we had dropped the bombs, we did something that was totally wrong; for the first and only time we went around and circled the target. We knew that there was nothing left down there to touch us. In fact there wasn’t a single gun firing, just lots and lots of smoke. We could see explosions as well from bombs being dropped by aircraft that had flown in behind us and secondary explosions caused by munitions or fuel stored on the ground being hit. Following our assault two more squadrons went into that target and essentially wiped it out militarily ‐ there was just nothing left.
Of course you know by now that Heligoland was just one small military target while many of our missions were directed at industrial targets and large cities; this was what they called ‘total war’. It had been declared as such by Hitler and we were now paying him back.
The massive quantities of bombs that we carried and dropped on a target were bound to cause large numbers of casualties on the ground. You would try your hardest to navigate accurately and to bomb with precision but you can never be right on target every time. You think you have the right wind direction, you think you have the right wind speed, and that there won’t be any deviation between the wind at your height and the wind nearer the ground, but at the end of the day if you're going to drop that kind of
weaponry from that sort of height you know that you're really just going to wipe out whatever is on the ground below you. Remember, we were bombing from 30,000 feet which meant that there were several miles of air beneath us, with winds blowing this way and that, and we were unable to observe or measure any of those deviations.
On many occasions we were confident that we had the aircraft perfectly aligned, just as it should be; the bomb aimer had his sights on the target, all his calculations had been completed and the aircraft was ready for a perfect bomb run, but when he released the bombs they just didn’t fall where he intended because of a wind shear somewhere beneath us. The wind would just take the bombs off target and they would land some distance away, often on civilian areas that were not being targeted. You would do your best, but there were just too many factors to take into account, many of them out of your control. That’s the nature of the beast. You tried your best.
So, that was that. Thirty three operational missions, all of them over Germany at the climax of the air war, with just over 197 operational hours and 25 non‐operational hours, for a total of 223 hours aloft with no casualties amongst our crew.
Sadly, many of our comrades were not as fortunate. In the course of the war 102 Squadron had the third heaviest losses in Bomber Command. We lost over 1,000 men out of a Bomber Command total loss of 55,000, suffered the heaviest losses in Number 4 Group (shared with 78 Squadron) and had the highest percentage losses in the Group. As I explained earlier, these heavy casualties continued almost to the end of the war.
It’s also important to bear in mind the fact that, although we were only four or five months away from the end of the war in Europe, 46% of the total tonnage of bombs dropped by Bomber Command during the entire war was dropped between September 1944 and May 1945. It’s very sad, but with a strength of 120 or so aircrew on the Squadron more than a third (47) had been killed during the last six months of the war, 2 were missing and 18 had been taken prisoner.
The courage of my comrades is reflected in the fact that a total of 74 Distinguished Flying Medals (DFM) and the Distinguished Flying Crosses (DFC) were awarded to squadron members between 1939 and 1945, along with one CGM. I was one of the recipients of the DFC, awarded for my service with 102 Squadron, although it was not presented until after the war had ended and I had transferred to another unit. I also received the 1939 to 1945 Medal, the France/Germany Cross, the Defence Medal and the War Medal. I don’t know specifically why they gave me the DFC. They kept that secret from me.
Our commitment was limited to those thirty‐three operational missions. A few fellows got really worked up about the length of it, affected by the stress of constant flying and exposure to danger. In those cases the RAF would quickly pull them off flying duty and put somebody else into the crew. The affected person would be given a rest and in most cases he would eventually be put back on duty once he had recovered. There was a pretty modern attitude towards that kind of thing, even in those days, and we felt that we were fairly treated.
My operational tour ended before the end of the war. After I finished my tour it was time to go and get drunk! It was a big relief to come through that alive, yet I am sure that if the war had continued I would have signed up for another tour of duty straightaway. I can't really explain why, it's just something to do with the way I felt at the time, that we were doing the right thing, that it was important.
I know there were people who would go up for their first flight and then decide that they weren't ready for this at all, that they were not going back. I have to admit that I don't think that what we did was something that most people would do in the same circumstances. Without meaning to sound conceited, I believe that the process of selection and the intensive period of training brought a special group of people to the top of the pile.
Ralph Pearson, our pilot, one air gunner and I all volunteered to join the Pathfinder Force. The Pathfinders were an elite force trained to arrive at the target first and to drop flares and incendiaries to mark it for the main force bombers. Our applications were approved and we were posted to the Pathfinder training school to train on the Lancaster bomber. However, after about two weeks of this familiarisation the war in Europe came to a close as the Germans surrendered.
Well, with that our pilot Pearson just disappeared; in fact I tried to contact him before he left, but he was going straight back to Canada as the Canadians were being taken home very quickly by their authorities. Pearson was more or less engaged to a girl up in York, so he rushed off to join her about three days before the actual end of the conflict, while I was stuck at the training centre cooling my heels.
As soon as the fighting had ended I hopped on the first train to York, but I couldn't find Pearson. I visited everybody I knew trying to get some information about his whereabouts but I wasn’t able to contact him. Eventually I gave up and, as I couldn't get a room in a hotel anywhere, what with everyone returning from overseas, I ended up spending the whole night sitting in the railway station. Thank God it wasn't too cold. The next day I caught the first train back to my base and I never saw Pearson or heard from him again. He left so quickly, you see that I never got his address.
Chapter 5: My World Tour
I actually stayed with the RAF until 1963. I transferred to Transport Command and I even ran for the RAF track team, my events being the two‐twenty and four‐forty. I was formally entitled to wear the RAF Athletics Blazer, something that required written approval. At the end of my career I was serving as the Chief Navigation Officer for 216 Squadron, which operated the De Havilland Comet, a brand‐new jet aircraft suited to carrying passengers. The Comet was really the first genuine passenger jet.
In 1959 or 1960 I flew out to Vancouver, where Ralph Pearson had lived before the war, as a navigator in the Comet. While there I wrote several letters to various addresses in an attempt to contact Ralph but I still couldn't find him in spite of sending letters here, there and everywhere. I don’t know if he eventually married that girl from Yorkshire.
I did stay in touch with Laurie Wilder, our Flight Engineer. He was posted to the Middle East for a time, but when he came back he took ill and he died a few years ago. Of the others in my crew, I met only one after the war. I was walking along a street in London and I heard someone walking behind me. I knew it was a policeman but I didn't worry about that as I knew they were just walking past me. Suddenly, one of these policemen turned around to face me and said, ‘Excuse me, sir’. I thought he was going to arrest me, but as it turned out it was Morris, one of the mid‐upper gunners, who had now joined the police force. I exclaimed, ‘My God!’ I had a shock you know, as I just heard this uniformed gentleman say ‘Excuse me, sir’ and when you hear that from a policeman you know that the next words coming are, ‘You are wanted for questioning down at the Station’!
I used to work on the de‐mob ships coming back to Jamaica with Jamaican servicemen from the UK. I was on duty, in my uniform, and it felt good to walk the streets of Kingston and to meet up with members of the family, dressed as a flyer returned from the war. On the first trip, I took sixty days leave and went home to see my family for the first time in four years. I was proud of what we had done, and I’m not ashamed to admit that. I also believe that people really looked up to us and appreciated our efforts.
I did about three de‐mob trips out here, and we actually had some serious trouble on a few occasions because of the long drawn out demobilisation process for Jamaican servicemen, and the rough conditions they were forced to endure. Men from other nations appeared to have been given priority treatment when it came to repatriation, and our men felt that they had been badly treated.
I was down in Middle East in November 1945 and for some unearthly reason heavy rain started to fall. In addition, at this time in England they had one whole month of fog, and we were supposed to fly via Italy to pick up some passengers and carry them home to the UK. When we were ready to leave Italy the controllers told us, ‘Well you can’t move because you can’t get in; you can’t get into any airfield in England’. After sitting there for two full weeks, we were told to fly over to Naples. We then spent about two weeks flying over to the heel of Italy, and bringing people over to Naples to catch a ship home from there.
We finally got back to England in December 1945, after almost a month of trying. They must have had a hell of a lot of fog there. We left Naples with about twenty‐five soldiers on board, which was the standard load, and believe it or not, we got as far as the Channel and then we had to go all the way back to Marseilles, as we still couldn’t fly in.
Finally, the following morning, with the wind against us, we were able to get into our UK base and drop off our passengers. This was a Saturday with Christmas right around the corner. As I climbed down from the aircraft I saw three or four staff cars and a gaggle of senior officers standing there waiting for us. I said to myself, ‘What the hell did we do wrong?’ That’s the first thing that comes to mind when you see a gathering like that ‐ something must be wrong! Well, they stepped away from the cars, and I saw the Wing Commander at the head of the group. He said ‘John Blair come here!’ So I went over, trying to work out what kind of trouble I was in when he handed me something and said, ‘This is yours! You’ve been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross! Well done!’ And I said, ‘For what?’
There were no less than three Squadron Leaders standing there with the Wing Commander, and one of them said, ‘What the hell is this? You won a DFC and you didn’t say anything to anybody! But here you are; you have been awarded the DFC for the work done during your tour with the bombers in 102 Squadron.’ There was no
particular mission or event that caused them to give me that award, just my overall performance during the whole tour.
So that was it – I was surprised, I can tell you. There was a citation and a short letter from the King enclosed with the medal, but I have lost those unfortunately. All I can say is that I did the best job as a Navigator that I could have ever done. Well, we came through thirty‐three missions and many, many crews did not.
Of course, that night after they gave me the medal was a terrible night! From whisky to beer to whisky again! Beer by the barrel‐full and whiskey by the bottle! That was after suffering in Italy for a whole month, and since I had even had to go and buy new shirts down there, money was tight. I really couldn’t afford that medal.
With Transport Command I went all around the world, flying as a Navigator in Hastings aircraft and also the Comet. I met my future wife Margaret on an aircraft flying into Hong Kong. I was navigating and she was idling! She was the Senior Flight Sister but with nothing to do as there were no patients going outbound, although we would take patients on the journey back, mostly army personnel. That aircraft was actually a hospital ward with stretcher patients and seated patients. The Sisters were kept busy when they had casualties to attend to, but fortunately for me we were empty on that flight.
Later, I was based out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean dropping off cargo destined for Christmas Island in the period leading up to the British nuclear tests. I went fishing before the tests and caught a few really big ones.
In 1995 I was invited to represent Jamaica at the 50th Anniversary celebrations of the end of the war, held in London. Several of us represented Jamaica, including my friend John Ebanks, who had been a Navigator/Bomb Aimer in a Mosquito Squadron. Well, that was quite something. It was very well attended indeed and I had never before seen the streets of London with so many people on them. We marched from Greenwich up to big, old Buckingham Palace. On both sides of the street all the way to
the Palace, people must have been standing more than twenty deep. It felt as though there were millions of people there on that day.
While we were fighting we never thought about defending the Empire or anything along those lines. We just knew deep down inside that we were all in this together and that what was taking place around our world had to be stopped. That was a war that had to be fought; there are no two ways about that. A lot of people have never thought about what would have happened to them here in Jamaica if the Germans had won, but we certainly would have returned to slavery. If a youngster today should ever suggest that we had no business going to fight a ‘white man’s war’ I would just throw my foot at him where it hurt him the most!
EPILOGUE
Flight Lieutenant John J Blair, DFC, 1919 to 2004
Remembrance for
Flight Lieutenant John Jellico Blair, DFC 1919 – 2004
Read at his funeral service by Mark Johnson, nephew
What motives led John Blair to tread the path he did and what must he have felt as he travelled from the dusty plains of southern St Elizabeth, Jamaica, to the air over Germany in 1944; from educator to Royal Air Force navigator, to lawyer and air accident investigator; from poor rural roots to a Distinguished Flying Cross and a career as one of the first West Indians to serve in the officer’s ranks of His Majesty’s Forces?
Uncle John went to school in Pedro Plains, to be taught by his elder sister Jemima; what a fate that must be, to be taught by one’s sister! There was a single class for children of all ages and he was actually told to start school two years early. When the English schools inspector came to visit, Aunt Jem would push him out of the one‐room school by the back door, so that she wouldn’t get into trouble.
As a child, John was moved around between his home, his brother Stanley’s teacher’s cottage in St Ann and his sister Clarissa’s house in St Mary. In the latter, John used to watch his brother‐in‐law, Mr E.B. Johnson, leading the local scout troop. The troop was smartly dressed, with uniforms and scarves, just like their English counterparts, but they were all barefoot! None of them could afford shoes for day‐to‐day use.
In the late 1930s, John left St Elizabeth to study at the Mico Teachers Training College, and he graduated as a teacher in elementary education after the 2nd World War had already started and in the words of Uncle John’s lifelong friend and RAF comrade, John Ebanks, ‘Hitler was a bully who had to be stopped’. John Blair decided that he would be one of those who would do the stopping.
So this reserved, 23 year‐old school teacher from the countryside volunteered to join the Royal Air Force, and in October 1942 he was put on a ship in Kingston harbour along with twenty other Jamaican volunteers and sent to Canada for training, by way of Belize, New Orleans and New York. This was a man who had never held a gun, never before left Jamaica, and never once flown in an aeroplane.
That experience on board the American ship stayed with Uncle John, and he found it both ironic and amusing. When his group went on board, they were told to go below. As they arrived on the first deck they found empty bunks waiting for them, so they started to unpack. However, an officer soon appeared and told them that their proper place was two decks further down; in the hold! And that’s where they travelled all the way to New Orleans, via Belize!
John trained in Canada as a Navigator in bomber aircraft, and he said it was “Cold like the Devil!” As the navigator, John Blair was responsible for telling the pilot how to get to the target and how to get home again after the bombs had been dropped. This was done mostly at night and with very limited technical assistance, just maps, compasses, a radio signal for taking bearings, star sightings and a regular look out of the window at the ground below, when you could see it. No radar. No computers. And no lights!
And while doing all this, with hundreds of other aircraft all around them in the night sky, the bombers were under attack by enemy fighters and anti‐aircraft fire. Understand this – Uncle John’s squadron (102 Ceylon Squadron) possessed 16 Halifax bombers, each with a crew of 7 men taken from many nations. During the first 3 weeks of his service with the Squadron, 8 of those 16 planes had been shot down over Germany; that’s 50% of his squadron in less than a month, with most of the crews being killed. John Blair would fly for a total of 5 months, and fly 33 bombing missions in that period.
Imagine, if you can, just a few moments in this long period of strain and tension; John Blair sitting in the briefing room with his fellow navigators, listening to details of the weather and the target, noting the enemy flak positions on his charts and trying not to
think about the effect of their fire; John walking to the aircraft in the evening twilight with his crew, clambering aboard through a narrow hatch and sitting at his navigation table, listening to the chatter on the intercom. The aircraft engines starting, belching black smoke, their whine rising to a roar, the aircraft lumbering and jolting down the runway, taking him with it regardless, straining to lift itself off the ground, clawing at the cold air and climbing into the night. Imagine a long, bumpy flight over dark countryside and black waters, turning this way and that, long hours of waiting and then the enemy night fighters coming out of nowhere at high speed, guns firing all around, other aircraft burning as they fall, their crews dying, beyond any help he could offer. Now picture the flak and searchlights over the target, the aircraft leaping upwards as the bombs fall away leaving it so much lighter, the steep dive to low‐level flight and then skimming over the trees and the water back to base, for hot tea and eggs and bacon, and sleep, and trying not to think about the comrades who would never come home again, or the fact that it would all need to be over again the following night, and the next, and the night after that.
That is what this man did.
He admitted that this was a hard, hard thing to do; there was fear and danger, and there was discomfort. Thousands of airmen died on both sides, and his Squadron suffered the second highest losses of any RAF squadron during the entire Second World War. The enemy was expert and resolute and many of the German pilots who attacked John’s squadron were combat aces with years of experience.
For example, Hauptman Georg Hermann Greiner, who downed an aircraft from 102 on 5th January 1945 was a Luftwaffe Ace, who shot down a total of 51 allied aircraft during the war. Major Heinz‐Wolfgang Schnaufer, who attacked the squadron on 21st February 1945 bringing two planes down, shot down a total of 121 allied planes during his career. In fact, on that night Schnaufer, Greiner and two other German pilots accounted for a total of 25 allied bombers in less than 30 minutes.
So this was serious business; it was life and death, and more often death than life for the allied aircrews.
What did John Blair do when he had completed this tour? Well, he volunteered for a second tour with the elite Pathfinder Squadron, and he was accepted. He also went out and got drunk with his crew, and I wonder if he didn’t get drunk first and volunteer afterwards! For his service with 102 Squadron Flight Lieutenant John Jellico Blair was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, the 1939 to 1945 Medal, the France/Germany Cross, the Defence Medal and the War Medal.
At the end of the war in Europe, Uncle John stayed in the RAF and transferred to Transport Command, flying all over the world. It was on one such flight to the Far East that he met his future wife Margaret. She was the Senior Flight Sister on board and they were on their way to pick up British casualties and ferry them home. As Uncle John put it, ‘I was working and she was idling!’
He also flew as a navigator in the Comet aircraft, the first passenger jet, and he remained in the RAF until 1963, a total of 21 years. John and Margaret Blair had two children, John Julian and Sarah, both of whom now live in the UK but who are here with us today. The family returned to Jamaica in the 1970s, and John Blair practiced law, worked as Deputy Director of Civil Aviation and tried his hand at farming.
Severe illness struck Uncle John in the late 1990’s. Throughout his long illness his wife Margaret and their children demonstrated the incredible devotion and strength that John himself had displayed throughout his life. How should we remember that life? In keeping with his own style, I propose just a few simple words; devotion to duty, to his country and to his people; love for his wife and for his children; compassion and humility; respect for others and concern for all mankind; self‐sacrifice. Let us remember him thus, let us thank him and his comrades for risking their lives to secure our freedom, and let us hope that each of us can be just one tenth the human being that was John Jellico Blair.
Appendix A
Transcript of an Interview with John Ebanks July 1997
I was a very religious young man and even now I can't understand my motivation for going to fight in the services. In 1940 I was the youngest lay preacher in the Anglican Church in Jamaica. But I was just annoyed when I listened to the news and heard how Hitler was just bulldozing his way through those little countries like Poland and Czechoslovakia. I was hurt ‐ he was just a dammed bully using his strength to dominate those people, and that triggered my decision.
I had five brothers and six sisters and came from a very traditional family background but I didn't tell my parents what I was planning to do until I had already been accepted by the RAF. I waited till the last minute to tell them.
My father was a teacher from St Elizabeth in Jamaica. In fact, there's a story in the family that states that by rights we should be in the owners of the whole of Treasure Beach where my good friend John Blair comes from. There were two brothers from Scotland call Eubanks (Ebanks is a corruption) who decided to leave their father’s carpet making business and follow in the footsteps of Columbus. Well they set sail and they reached as far as the Cayman Islands, where one of them settled. The second brother continued but his ship ran into a storm and they were shipwrecked on the South West coast of Jamaica at what is now called Treasure Beach. And so that's how the family came to Jamaica, and up to 40 years ago anywhere you heard the name Ebanks you could be certain that you were talking to someone who hailed from St Elizabeth. In 1954 there were only two Ebanks in the telephone directory and now there are about 30.
In 1939 I was a teacher. One day I was sitting with the headmistress listening to the radio when suddenly Churchill came on and we heard that amazing speech, “We will
fight them on the beaches”. I was very moved. The Germans were just rampaging across Europe, and these people were going to stop them.
So the following day I made an application to the RAF. That was in 1940 but I didn't hear from them until the middle of 1941 when they told me to report to Kingston for medical and mental tests. Incidentally the educational tests we got out here were much tougher than the ones we received when we arrived in England. We didn't actually join up here in Jamaica. There was a committee here and they were very strict because at that time all the fellows who applied were applying for aircrew duties ‐ no one was applying for anything else. My first choice was to be a pilot but I received a 100% score in the mathematical aspects of the test and apparently the English school system wasn't turning out as many good mathematicians as were required. So I was asked to become a navigator, given my skill at math. I didn't mind because I already knew that this was a critical job and that many aircraft were lost not because of enemy fire, but due to errors in navigation. It was common to hear of planes going off course and flying into mountains or heading far out to sea never to return.
After a few months in England I was posted to Canada for training. We had a good time in Canada. There was no blackout, there was plenty to eat and the girls were very nice, but that didn't interest me! What disturbed me was the comment that people trained in Canada as navigators were very poor in their performance operationally, because there was no blackout and so navigation was easy compared to Europe.
When I joined my squadron I was the only non‐commissioned officer on the station so I was stuck in a great big, big building all by myself. Eventually I was transferred to a place named Oakington.
I recall that during our bomb aiming training, on my first flight with live ordinance, I believed I had dropped the bomb on the target, but as we were returning to base we realised that the aircraft wasn’t handling properly and indeed the bomb was still attached! I said to my pilot, ‘I don't believe the bomb is gone!’ Now at this stage we
were at 30,000 feet and I said let's go down another 10,000 feet because I suspected that ice was the cause of the problem. When we had descended to 20,000 feet I pressed the button again and the aircraft jumped up about 4000 feet as the bomb left us. After that experience we never had any doubts as to whether or not the bomb had gone.
All in all I flew 50 sorties during the war. I think my most dangerous moment was over Hamburg. We lost one of our engines hit by flak, the starboard engine as I recall, and that occurred at 25,000 feet. Then suddenly the second engine packed up apparently because of an airlock. So we were just gliding with no engines at all. By now we were over the North Sea and the pilot told me to prepare to bail out. I said ‘Master, you can bail out but I not bailing out’. This was one time I was not obeying any instructions, because when you looked down below you know it was as black as pitch, it being two o'clock in the morning. No way was I going to bail out at night in the winter over the North Sea ‐ I would prefer to die in my plane.
When we got to 5000 feet the blockage cleared up and engine started and we were able to land on an emergency strip on the east coast of England. You see no matter how bad things get there is always a chance something will happen and you will scrape through. I just wasn't prepared to bail out because you had no chance of surviving you would freeze to death in two minutes in the water.
I also recall another occasion when we lost an engine and had to turn back to the UK. Now, each squadron leaving the UK had a designated re‐entry point at which you could fly back in to the UK. As long as you flew on the correct course you were expected, but if you were tempted to return on another route there was always a chance that the gunners on the ground will treat you as an enemy aircraft. As we hit the coast on this flight the English antiaircraft batteries, or ‘ack‐ack’, opened fire on us. But fortunately we always carried a Verey pistol with the flare of the day, a specific colour that everyone knew, and as soon as I fired that thing the anti‐aircraft firing stopped as though by magic.
I remember that I flew as part of a force of 30 mosquitoes to mark the target at Cologne for one of the thousand bomber raids. Well I'll just let you imagine what happens when 30 aircraft attack a target that’s defended by 600 guns. And yet, as we left the area weaving and turning violently to avoid the enemy fire I saw one aircraft circling the target, taking a look. It turned out to be one of the squadron commanders. Of course, he was shot down and killed.
When I got back to Jamaica I didn't find the adjustment difficult, but I had a hell of a time getting a job. At every interview I was told that I had a brilliant war record and that they had no place for someone like me.
I was at a gathering recently when a fellow came up to me and said “Oh! So you are one of those who went to fight for King and country.” I got very angry and I told him in no uncertain manner that I did not go to fight for King and country, I went to fight for myself. I went to fight for freedom, for Jamaica, and for all the little countries of the world that would otherwise be controlled by bullies.
John Ebanks 1997
Dublin Core
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 Story of Flight Lieutenant John J Blair, DFC
102 (Ceylon) Squadron and 216 Squadron
Description
An account of the resource
A 52 page document detailing the history of John Blair's RAF service from 1942 to 1963, and his childhood in Jamaica. Introductory note says it was based on a taped interview with John Blair by his nephew in 1997.
John was born in 1919 to a poor but educated family. He was the youngest of eight children. At the age of 17 he started training as a teacher but war had broken out. He was accepted by the RAF as aircrew and after brief training in Jamaica was shipped to New Orleans then onward to Canada.
He trained as a Navigator and after crew selection at Kinloss, training on Whitleys he was sent to Pocklington, Yorkshire.
He completed 33 operations - there is great detail about the operations.
After the war he transferred to Transport Command and flew Hastings and Comets around the world. He was a successful athlete for the RAF.
Included is a eulogy for John written by his nephew, Mark Johnson.
An appendix covers a colleague, John Ebanks who served as a bomb aimer at RAF Oakington. He undertook 50 operations.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Mark Johnson
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2008
Format
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52 typewritten sheets
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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MBlairJJ[Ser#-DoB]-160509-01
Coverage
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Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Air Force. Transport Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--London
Jamaica--Pedro Plains
Cayman Islands
Jamaica--Ocho Rios
Jamaica--Kingston
Belize
United States
Louisiana--New Orleans
New York (State)--New York
Canada
New Brunswick--Moncton
Ontario--Ottawa
Québec--Montréal
Ontario--Toronto
Nova Scotia--Halifax
Iceland
England--Yorkshire
Sri Lanka
West Indies
Australia
New Zealand
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Munich
Italy--Turin
Italy--Genoa
Italy--Milan
Germany--Mülheim an der Ruhr
Germany--Koblenz
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Magdeburg
British Columbia--Vancouver
England--Liverpool
France--Ardennes
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Essen
Germany--Ludwigshafen am Rhein
Germany--Saarbrücken
Germany--Dülmen
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Wanne-Eickel
Germany--Goch
Germany--Bonn
Germany--Reichswald
Germany--Kleve (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Worms
Germany--Kamen
Germany--Chemnitz
Germany--Flensburg
Germany--Wuppertal
Germany--Bottrop
Germany--Witten
Italy--Naples
France--Marseille
Europe--English Channel Region
China--Hong Kong
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany
Jamaica
Italy
France
Germany--Osnabrück
Jamaica--Saint Elizabeth
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Wangerooge Island
Louisiana
New York (State)
Ontario
Québec
New Brunswick
Nova Scotia
China
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Lancashire
Jamaica--Saint Ann's Bay
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
102 Squadron
216 Squadron
4 Group
78 Squadron
African heritage
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bomb aimer
bombing
bombing of Helgoland (18 April 1945)
Conspicuous Gallantry Medal
crewing up
demobilisation
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
entertainment
Gee
ground personnel
Halifax
Halifax Mk 3
Hitler, Adolf (1889-1945)
incendiary device
Ju 88
killed in action
Lancaster
medical officer
mid-air collision
military service conditions
mine laying
missing in action
Mosquito
navigator
Pathfinders
pilot
prisoner of war
radar
RAF Kinloss
RAF Oakington
RAF Pocklington
RAF Tangmere
searchlight
sport
training
Whitley
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1200/11773/PWilkinsNE1704.2.jpg
0b82f31961100616000f1a53909d6996
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1200/11773/AWilkinsNE170922.1.mp3
f352a60c5f4b1c6382ed898fe3ada8ca
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
Wilkins, Norman Edward
N E Wilkins
Description
An account of the resource
Seven items. An oral history interview with Wing Commander Norman Wilkins (1925 - 2018, 1807646, 164478 Royal Air Force) parts of his log book and photographs. He flew operations as a navigator with 7 Squadron Pathfinders.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Norman Wilkins and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-09-22
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
Wilkins, NE
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
CB: So, this interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre.
NW: Right.
CB: And today I’m interviewing Norman Wilkins. His wife Ann is also present. The interviewer is myself Cathy Brearley and today’s date is Friday the 22nd of September 2017. And the interview is taking place at Norman and Ann’s home near Worthing in West Sussex.
NW: Thank you.
CB: So, thank you very much.
NW: That’s alright.
CB: For giving this interview for us. Thank you.
NW: That’s really accurate.
CB: So, could you just start off by telling me whereabouts you were born and about your early life and where you grew up?
NW: Yes. I was born in a place called West Norwood which is what? South London really. Yeah. South west or south east. I can’t remember which. And I was such a weakling that the doctor said to my family and let, because it was the days of the big smogs and things, ‘Unless you get this boy out of London he isn’t going to make old bones.’ So, my father who worked for the railway got a job down in — we moved to Redhill in Surrey. And that’s, I suppose that’s when I joined the ATC. A little bit later. And that’s how it rolled on into the Air Force. I was in the ATC a long time. And we’re still involved with the ATC in that when we lived in Kent, the Kent Wing Commander had got such a huge parish that he used to give me about a third of his inspections to do. Which we eagerly did. Which was rather lovely. But now we’re members. We’ve got a certificate that says I’m a member of 176 Brighton and Hove Squadron.
CB: So, how old were you when war broke out?
NW: I must have been fifteen would I? Wait a minute. Which was about 1940. I was born in 1925 so I must have been fourteen then. Take. Yes. Fourteen. And I went to Reigate Grammar School having passed the necessary exams which you had to in those days. And the Battle of Britain was on then. One, a German bomber came down across the playground as you’d call it. And the gunners shot all the windows out in the school [laughs] but we were all outside so nobody was hurt. And fortunately he crashed just down the road. So I set off with my father’s 410 shotgun to join the savages that were going to hold the crew up [laughs] but Corporal Jones and Co got there first. So, that’s alright I remember about that bit. Then I grew up there completely. Joined, joined what was the first thing was the Air Defence Cadet Corps you’d have heard off which was set up, worthy people who believed that where the Air Force was the way ahead. So, Air Defence Cadet Corps turned into ATC which, which took me into the University Air Squadron at Oxford. I was in New College Oxford in a scheme that if you joined the air training — sorry, if you joined the University Air Squadron your fees were paid for by the RAF. Which was a very good scheme and that’s when I remember there was a hideous Flight Sergeant used to bully us in the, in the, when I was in the UAS. Blow me down about two years later he popped up again in Cambridge [laughs] when I was still at the Initial Training Schools which, you’ll, you’ll know about the RAF training system then as well as or probably better than everybody else. You’ve heard about it so many times. When, then we all took off didn’t we? To Heaton Park, Manchester. And I was there for, for some time. But again having opted for Navigator Training I met, I made friends, which is neither here nor there. I made friends with a chap called Eddie Cullen. Now, there was, he was a son of a big grocer’s then in those days called Cullen and Sons. Didn’t matter then but it mattered later. In the middle of the night we marched off. Got into a train for Canada. All the blinds were pulled down so you couldn’t look out and see where you were going. Because I always remember as we, it was all supposed to be terribly secret but as we marched out of the camp there were a bunch of people’s girlfriends there saying, have a, ‘Goodbye. Have a good time in Canada.’ [laughs] So much for security. And when we were allowed to put the blinds up in the morning what were we going to get into? Queen Elizabeth the First. All grey paint painted. So, that’s how I went over to Canada. In the Elizabeth the First. Which, as you know went unescorted because she was faster than the Destroyers that would have escorted us. So it was only four and a half days. Now, in, we were in the Reception Centre in Canada, Eddie Cullen played, paid off because there were people there who’d been hanging about a long time to get on with their training. Eddie Cullen immediately recommended and met one of the Corporals. Because Corporals ran the training system as you know. They ran the air training system really. He met, realised that he’d been at school with this Corporal so we agreed, Eddie and I, go, he’d go and see him and find out whether we could go to London, Ontario — London, Ontario which sounded an attractive spot. Eddie came back and said, ‘Uh huh got to wait three months to do that. But Portage le Prairie next week.’ Right. That was it. Portage le Prairie please. And off we went. That, then the next phase of course was right across Canada in a train. Through the next, through the — what was it called? Lake of the Woods which was a beautiful area. Until we emerged at Winnipeg where the bands were playing. Where they were playing. And up we carried on to Portage le Prairie where there actually weren’t platforms. You got down from the train onto the ground. [laughs] Which didn’t matter because the trucks were there to take us to the airport which until very recently was still, still doing Navigator training for the Canadian Air Force. And we were there however long it was. We were there for the winter course because I remember being in these Ansons you opened a step up, stood on it, opened a flap in the roof and did your astro through that. Temperature would go down to minus fifty of course on the Canadian prairies. And the other thing was you were working hard to make a good plot to get back home but the Canadian pilots who were all civilian bush pilots that had been recruited, you heard that as well, they, they made their own arrangements. So thinking they were helping you but in fact they were doing the very opposite. But it didn’t matter. They flew the radio ranges that they’d always flown. And now that must have been six months through the winter of 1942/43. And then at the end of the course all the others went away to go on the OTU HCU trip and I thought to myself what have I done wrong? Waved them all goodbye. Of course what had happened in fact because I was number one on the course that automatically nominated me for the Pathfinder Training Unit. And so eventually I went but of course I went to squadron very quickly. They had to plough their way through OTUs and HCUs and fly in Manchesters and other horrible things. [laughs] And that really gets me completely to 7 Squadron where on the day I had been there a couple of days and my skipper who — the crew couldn’t operate because their previous radar man had failed. So, they couldn’t fly because they hadn’t got seven people. He was told, ‘Come to the adjutants office again. We’ve got a new radar man for you.’ Well, I was still, still nineteen wasn’t I? Yes. Yes. And I saw, George’s face fell as he thought, ‘Oh my God. What will I do with this little bog rat?’ [laughs] And he walked with me into the crew room where the crews were sitting on benches either side and as we walked past you saw the look of pleasure on their face as they realised I wasn’t for them [laughs]
CB: Whereabouts was this that that happened?
NW: That happened at Oakington itself. Yes. Yes. Because I’d been posted to Oakington from Warboys and that bit happened. That’s when we crewed up. And I met people like, with a very good English name of [pause] I’ve forgotten it. Something like [unclear] Emmanuel Azzaro, who was a Brighton taxi driver. Or had been.
CB: Really?
NW: He was the rear gunner.
CB: And who was the pilot?
NW: No. He was the rear gunner.
CB: Who was the pilot? Who were the other people?
NW: Oh, the pilot was George Harvey who had flown as a civil flight for the National Airways of New Zealand before the war.
CB: And who were the other crew members?
NW: Well, the other member was my, well he had to be a friend because we sat thigh to thigh like that. Bill Parnham, who I don’t know what he did before that. The rear, upper gunner became a policeman just after the war. I don’t know what he did before then unless he was a police cadet. That’s right.
CB: What was his name?
[pause]
NW: Pass. I can’t get it.
CB: No.
NW: Oh. Victor Emmanuel Azzaro. That was it. Victor Emmanuel Azzaro was the rear gunner. The Brighton. Now, because once Azzaro said, ‘You lot ought to come down and see Brighton. It’s a wonderful place.’ So, we all trooped off on a train and came down and put up. We were put up at, in Victor Emmanuel Azzaro’s house. I remember the disgusting business because they had one of these steel shelters. The Anderson shelters were in the garden if you remember. The other one’s were table top ones. Azzaro’s family were tipped out and told to go away somewhere and we, we all took [laughs] over the shelter. And the excuse was we were more valuable to the war effort because we were a bomber crew.
[pause]
AW: [unclear]
CB: Ann’s reminding, Ann’s suggesting reminding you about a story about a wheelbarrow at Brighton.
NW: Oh, yes that was after the war. Yes.
CB: Oh, was it?
NW: That was after the war. Yes.
CB: Ok. Well we can come back to that if you like then.
NW: I was flying with a different man but eventually because I’d become a senior radar person and of course so we only went when the weather was C R A P. We rarely went in good weather. But I can remember towards the end of the bomber offensive we began to go on a few daylights. And on one particular daylight the gunners got very excited because we were going to be attacked by this ME163. A little baby jet. And why they were excited was they couldn’t move the turrets quick enough to catch up with the thing it went so fast. Just a small memo. Other than that I remember no other incidents really. Oh. We went into Cologne but we had P51 Mustangs of the US Air Force escorting us. Right above our heads. But we realised during these daylights how many aircraft and crews had been lost with collisions or accidents because we would be, we were straying, staying on this day on the bomb run and all of a sudden bombs started coming down all around us. There was a guy just above dropping his bomb load. Well, that was because of course the, everybody set their pressure setting but because they would be cheapo they weren’t all exactly the same. Or they should have been but they weren’t. They all got the same setting but they only needed to be a few feet different to be up there or over there and knock a wing off.
CB: Did you do any astro navigation?
NW: Bill insisted we, we did once. But by then another aid called LORRAINE, LORAN had come in. And because we were in Pathfinder f off everything that was brand new in navigation was fitted to our aircraft. But we didn’t do, we didn’t do much with that because Bill would be plotting right there. I’m sitting right here. And we agreed we’d do fix. We’d fix the aircraft six minutes, four minutes and he’d give me a nudge and of course we got a perfect radar pictures. You could see, you’ve seen many of them. So, that was the best way to navigate the aircraft and it finished beautifully in the bomb run. I did lots of astro but that was on Vulcans.
CB: That was later.
NW: Ah.
CB: Yeah.
NW: By then, as I was pretty senior I was picked out to fly with some other crews who hadn’t got a radar man. And one I flew with was a man Phillip P Mather. M A T H E R. He was a big drinking man which doesn’t really matter but his mother lived in that lovely square.
AW: Brunswick.
NW: Brunswick Square. And so, the war was finished. I had flown with Mather on two sorties or one. I can’t remember which. So, I knew him pretty well. And he said, ‘You need to come down and see Brighton.’ So, off we went down to Brighton. And one day we all marched out with the intention of having a pint in every pub in this street. Western Road. Yes. When we, what was annoying about PP Mather was he got all the girls. Didn’t matter how aged they were. Whether they were sixteen to sixty five he got the lot. No one else got a look in because he looked like Ivor Novello and was often mistaken for him. However, when we, when we, when it was decided it was time to go back — oh yes I remember. His mother was an agony aunt for one of the magazines, and Phil, we were all a bit frightened of her so when Phil said, ‘Right. We should go home,’ off we went. And we all were traipsing along and we came, we’d seen the same corner where there was a shop Mence Smiths Do you remember Mence Smiths. No.
CB: No.
NW: Outside was a gleaming brand new wheelbarrow. That was ours straightaway. I climbed in it. Phil picked up the handles and off we went pursued by an employee of Mense Smiths in his warehouse coat. I think they were called khaki coat. He escorted us with the strict instructions to get the wheelbarrow back. But just at the same time a policeman was marching along with us. And we looked and said — he was wearing aircrew ribbons, and he said, ‘Don’t worry, gentlemen. I will navigate through the traffic with you.’ So off we went with our wheelbarrow. Pushed it all back. He held up the traffic, because we were one side and Brunswick Square was the other, while we crossed, handed it back to the man in the warehouse coat and we scuttled in to his mother’s flat. Having pushed this wheelbarrow about a mile I suppose. We’ve been to that corner since. Or identified it since.
AW: One and a half.
NW: There aren’t any wheelbarrows there now.
AW: [unclear] has gone.
NW: Mense Smiths had been gobbled up into something else. Yeah. Just a silly incident but that of course was just after the war. Philip Mather disappeared into the blue. I’d imagine if I looked in the Brighton directory I’d find him. But I’ve no intention of doing so because he’s a dangerous man [laughs]
CB: So, could you explain a little bit about how the radar navigation system actually worked?
NW: Yes. Yes. Now, that was the [unclear] the war expired, we’ll, we’ll jump a bit if that’s alright with you. The war expired and I got a permanent commission to stay in the Air Force and I got posted to what was then the Air Ministry. Well, while I was there in a very interesting intelligence job the cry went in, out in things called AMOs — Air Ministry Orders saying virtually, ‘Where have all the radar navigators had gone? If anybody knows where they are try — ’ Winco Buggins — I can’t think of his name of course because it didn’t matter, ‘On this number.’ So, I pounced on the phone. Got this lovely fellow on the phone and I said, ‘Hello sir, I’m here.’ ‘Right,’ he said, ‘Well, you’re about to be somewhere else. We’re starting a radar course for the V Force at Lindholme and you’ll be on number one course. So, I found myself on number one course. Myself, and twelve bright shiny pilot officers. Flying officers who were all from the Canberras force and whereas my radar training to get on the Pathfinder Force had been three weeks this, they decided the training for the V force would be more than a year. So we were at Lindholme for more than a year. And then I went to Hemswell. Nothing to do with the V force. I finished up commanding this Lincoln squadron which was doing the radar training for the V Force. So it was still the same thing. When I’d finished that —
CB: That was at Hemswell.
NW: That was at —
CB: RAF Hemswell.
NW: it came and I’d found my Jaguar. Oh yes. Outside the officer’s mess was this. You wouldn’t have remembered them because you’re too young. Jaguars in those days used to had P100 headlights. Huge. Huge things. This — and I kept eyeing this and I borrowed somebody’s metal polish in the middle of the night and went out and worked on these lights and found that the chrome was perfectly sound. Eventually I said to the mess manager, ‘Who owns that Jaguar out there?’ He said, ‘Oh, that’s the chap,’ and again I wouldn’t remember the name because it wasn’t relevant. He went off to Suez to fight the Suez war. I said, ‘Any chance you’d give me his name?’ and, ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Yes. I’ll give you a name. As a matter of fact,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a home address for him.’ So, I wrote to this chap and said, ‘Could we talk on the phone?’ This chap rang me in the officer’s mess at Hemswell and said [pause] must have been Hemswell. Yes. He said, ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘Why are you ringing me?’ I said, ‘Because I’d like to have your Jaguar.’ ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘That old wreck,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t be bothered to pick it up because while I was away Aunt Fanny died and left me a small fortune so I’m in to new cars now,’ he said. ‘But I have got a scrap man from Lincoln coming out for it and he’s going to give me forty pounds for it.’ So, I said, ‘Right. Now, if I sent you a cheque for forty five pounds you’d send me the keys and the logbook.’ ‘I’d be happy to do that,’ he said. So, that’s what happened. It was my Jaguar. But what I hadn’t thought of was who could tow to start a two ton Jaguar. Now, by sheer fluke I was with, flying with a Squadron Leader Skeane another huge tall man who’d got an old American Packard six which was capable of pulling this thing. So, came the day when I’d been posted to Finningley and been over there and picked my married quarter when squadron, we got hold of a massive rope. I don’t know. Must have got it from a sports field or something. It was the sort of thing that was being used for the tug of war. We’d attached it to this. Away we went. Let the clutch out. Bang. She started. And all I could do then was flash the lights at Don Skeane to stop. Drove back to Finningley and used it for about two and a half years.
CB: Is that how long you were at RAF Finningley?
NW: I was at RAF Finningley.
CB: Yeah.
NW: Yes.
CB: And which aircraft were you in when you were there?
NW: Sorry?
CB: Which aircraft were you flying in while you were at — ?
NW: Vulcans
CB: Oh right. Yeah.
NW: 101 Squadron.
CB: Yeah.
NW: Was a Vulcan squadron.
CB: And you flew in Lancasters and Ansons during the war.
NW: Well, yes. Ansons in Canada.
CB: Yeah.
NW: Old ones. Built over there. And when I got back straight into, at the Pathfinder Training Unit straight into Lancaster.
CB: So, what was it like flying in a Lancaster?
NW: Oh. Chummy because we were sitting like this. Bill there. Me here. Just the other side but I couldn’t see him. Oh, I must say and you must have heard this many times that people started talking about fear. Well, we didn’t have any fear because we were behind black-out curtains. So I couldn’t even see the flight engineer and the pilot because they were behind blackout. But then we were so busy fix fix fix fix fix. Getting it right. Until we were on the bomb run. Then it was only then when it was that either the markers gone and the bombs have gone did we pull the blackout curtains back. Stand up and have a look at what was going on, and what had we done? And headed back for home very smartly. I don’t know whether that’s of any value or not.
CB: No. It’s interesting.
NW: But, oh there was one serious incident when I was talking to you about accidents. When one time over Germany there was a wacking great bumph. The whole aircraft started rocking and when we’d all recovered ourselves and decided that our trousers were still clean, George said to me, ‘Norman. What do you reckon?’ ‘I’ve got no radar,’ I said, ‘It must have been something to do with the radar. I’m going to put an oxygen bottle on and go back and see if I can find what damage was done.’ Well, the radar, all we’d got back there was a big hole. The radar had been, had collided with something and had gone. [pause] During debriefings we heard that a Halifax had lost a tail and had landed successfully. So, two things were put together. The Halifax had taken our radio off and our radio had taken his, one of his fins off. That was the most, that was the worst feeling that we had. Most of the time we never saw flak or anything like that because we were behind our black out curtains. But that wasn’t very good and I’ve got a picture of that somewhere but I don’t suppose that was worth looking for. That was the biggest incident that we had was loading. We couldn’t of course carry out an attack that day. We turned very smartly and headed for home. Oh, and there was an interesting — [laughs] On another incident we were on the way home and Bill Parnham said to me, ‘Norman, have you ever heard of,’ — where’s the market? ‘Ford?’ I said, ‘No. Of course I’ve never heard of Ford.’ He said, ‘Well, we’re not to go to Oakington. 8 Group aircraft have been diverted to Ford.’ So, we said, ‘Where the devil’s that?’ Well, Brill got out every map he’d got and eventually we found Ford and discovered it was a Naval Air Station up the road from us here really. Now it’s a big market at the weekends. But we found Ford and arrived there and we were, we were something like a top of a huge, because all Pathfinder aircraft based at the Pathfinder bases when the fog had appeared, the Lincolnshire fog all diverted to Ford. Not hundreds. I suppose about fifteen. And George eventually said, and he’d been we’d gradually worked our way down the stack. George decided he’d had enough of that and said, called out, ‘My fuel gauge is getting very low. Low. I need an immediate approach and landing.’ So, that’s what we did to be greeted by some flying officer who was in charge of Ford who said, ‘I’ve got accommodation for you gentlemen. And I’ve got supper for you but I have to tell you it’s only baked beans.’ Oh yeah. Very interesting. So, we slept on, this is where the gunners came good because they had got, many of them, the old fashioned leather fur lined jackets. The rest of us of course had what I would call ordinary thin flying overalls on. The point being we slept on, on the springs of beds because what the pilot officer hadn’t told us was yes he’d got beds but he hadn’t got any mattresses. So, the next morning everybody rose, had their breakfast. Baked beans again. And we discovered that we had three squadron commanders with us from the, from the, from the 8 Group. And the three squadron commanders said, ‘Can we get out of here?’ ‘No. You can’t,’ said the flying officer, ‘We were instructed that you should stay here.’ And I remember we looked. There were Lancasters parked in odd positions all over the airfield because of course nobody could see in the dark. Fortunately nobody had run into another one. They were all over the place. The squadron commander suddenly said, ‘Where’s the nearest pub?’ and the chap said, well it’s Little Dogsbody or somewhere where it was. About seven or eight miles away. So the squadron, the squadron said to him, ‘Right. Firstly, preferably you must know his number in the officer’s mess. Ring him up and tell him a lot of people are coming to drink his beer ration.’ Because beer was rationed as you know. And he said, ‘Secondly, transport please.’ So, a couple of three tonners were appeared and we all scrambled into it and off we went to the pub. And it didn’t take long before his beer ration had gone. And while we were still having a good time, must have been about an hour and a half later the flying officer suddenly appeared and said, ‘Gentlemen, time up,’ he said, ‘Pathfinder bases are clear. You are to immediately return to base.’ So, after another pint, I think or two we went back with the flying officer and his two trucks, scrambled in our Lancasters and went back home again. Just another daft event but we still with our, we still had and it wasn’t the same night so, we must have had a radar that worked. There was one working there. Now, what’s interesting is a friend of Ann’s who was a violinist in either the RPO or the LPO was, who we now are in touch with has got a German friend whose job is to come — is to research bombs. That’s why the bomb load is written in the bottom there. Now, he’s coming over at some time in the very near future because we meet these people about every three to six, three months. He’s coming over. He stays with them at a B&B when he’s over researching at Kew. At the National, is it the National —
AW: Archives.
NW: Archive office. That’s right. Now, he knows the reason I’ve kept that is I’ll get a decent copy of it and he will take it away with him and put it in his research.
CB: And you’re.
NW: So, that’s a bit left over from —
CB: And you’re now president of the 7 Squadron Association.
NW: I’m president of 7 Squadron Association. Yes. Which we shall be going to —
AW: 1983 we formed it.
NW: You’re going to the ATC.
AW: 1983, the 7 Squadron Association was formed.
NW: Right.
CB: And do you have an annual — ?
NW: I was the chairman.
AW: Yes.
NW: For over ten years.
AW: Yeah.
NW: And got booted upstairs to take over from an air commodore who was the president. And I’ve been the president now since oh a very long time.
AW: Yeah. And we meet once or twice a year but lots of us are in touch with each other all the time on the phone.
NW: Oh yes.
AW: Visit each other. Or —
NW: That’s good.
AW: Yes.
NW: Oh yes. Oh yes.
AW: Because again it’s it’s like a second family.
NW: It’s like a family, isn’t it?
AW: It’s like a family. Yeah. Yeah.
CB: You haven’t mentioned Operation Manna yet.
NW: Yes.
CB: And I understand you were involved in that.
NW: Well, badly briefed again. We were told that we were going to go to Holland. So, we were going to go this way. Near Rotterdam. Another one was going to go near Amsterdam probably. And as at low level we were to open the bomb doors and load and release bags of food for the starving Dutch. So off we went and as I said we went — well we didn’t climb up ever that day. We stayed low level. Joined a run in to where Pathfinder markers had been lit to by, by good Dutchmen on the ground. And as we went in I suppose it was yes, polder. The side of a polder was filled with medium sized German flak guns and they tracked us as we went across to release our food and likewise our gunners were tracking them as we went by. But we’d got top cover of American Mustangs so the Krauts very sensibly didn’t make anything of it. Years later, but we didn’t know at the time we were told including by a Dutch policeman. He said, but he said, ‘We were starving,’ he said, ‘People were actually falling down in the, in the street, from starvation.’ He said, ‘If it wasn’t you my — I wouldn’t be here.’ This was one of our escorting policemen when we went there on Manna in the 50s.
AW: Yeah. We went there. I can’t remember what year.
CB: Ann is now showing me a collage of photographs. Was this given to Norman?
NW: Yes.
CB: By the Dutch people when you went over on a visit.
NW: Oh, quite incredible. Quite incredible.
CB: Which is a photograph. A series of photographs.
NW: The equivalent of the, of the Home Guard.
CB: A collage of photographs.
NW: He took holiday to escort us everywhere. Everywhere we went we were escorted by these policemen who were dressed in white. White leather. And we met, mostly met schools.
AW: No. We went everywhere and were given the freedom of the cities.
NW: Oh. Freedom of here and the freedom of there. Yeah.
AW: These are made by the grandchildren of the people at the time in what they’d been told from their grandparents that actually happened. And we each had three or four of these placemats.
CB: Well, they’re lovely.
AW: We wrote to the children.
NE: That was very clever certainly.
CB: The children’s drawings.
AW: Yeah.
CB: The grandchildren’s drawings that have been coloured in and laminated for you to use as placemats. A very grateful nation.
AW: Yes.
NW: We had to bend like this so they could get their clipboards to write on.
AW: As we drove in to each town or village —
NW: Oh.
AW: In the coaches the townspeople or the village people were fighting each other to get on the coaches to hug the men that had brought them food.
NW: That was a very emotional business that.
AW: And the whole week.
NW: Was like that.
AW: We were escorted by what we would call the Territorial Army.
NW: Yeah.
AW: As help. They had taken one week’s holiday out of their ordinary pay and jobs to escort us. And the police escorted us. Two coaches. The whole time. Wherever we went and we went to schools, to towns.
NW: Yes. Villages.
AW: To villages. To the racecourse where you dropped food.
NW: Racecourse.
AW: And a Lancaster came over.
NW: That’s right. A Lancaster came over.
AW: And dropped bread while we were there.
NW: And did a dummy food drop on the racecourse.
AW: Yeah. Very moving. It was an incredibly moving week.
NW: Yeah. It was indeed.
AW: None of us stopped crying the whole time because we couldn’t believe.
NW: The children.
AW: Because these young men who flew in the Lancasters didn’t actually know that people were dropping dead in the street at the time.
NW: No. We didn’t know that.
AW: You didn’t know that, did you?
NW: It was the policeman. I went to speak to him in his white leathers and I said, ‘Thank you very much for escorting us.’ ‘No,’ he said, ‘Thank you for being here. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here.’ I said, ‘Why is that then?’ He said, ‘Well, you did, my parents tell me that people were dropping dead in the street and if you hadn’t come and did the food drops it would have been in a very very serious situation and I wouldn’t be here.’ But they were all, well they were all like. Weeping.
AW: Everywhere we went, as you can see there were so many things that happened.
CB: There was a singer.
AW: That week. Oh, we had a singing.
CB: A band.
AW: Bands. We had a complete day with old vehicles and their vintage things. The Americans came because they called it Chowhound. So, there were a few Americans there.
NW: Yes.
AW: But I think the most moving man was the Polish man who came with his daughter from Poland and the whole week he never spoke to anybody or reacted to anything at all that was happening. And on the Friday night the hotel who were involved also with the Manna operation gave us Freedom of the City of Rotterdam and also at any time if we wished to go back to the hotel we stayed there free of charge.
CB: Wow.
AW: And there was a small speech by one man and then the whole company were asked if they wanted to speak. And Norman stood up and spoke on behalf of 7 Squadron and then the Polish man said he would like to speak. And in perfect English —
NW: Yeah.
AW: He brought the whole room —
NW: To tears.
AW: Crying. To tears again.
NW: Incredible.
AW: And you thought he hadn’t taken any of it on board but he had and it was so emotional. That was the end of our week there. These things don’t happen now.
CB: No. It’s wonderful that they have done and you’ve been.
AW: Yeah.
NW: Yes. It was incredible.
CB: How many times did you go over?
AW: We went —
CB: With the with food. How many trips did you make with the food?
NW: I imagine, I’ll have to go and get my logbook.
CB: I know you’ve got your logbook. I’ll just pause the tape a moment.
NW: I went.
CB: Just pause it a minute.
[recording paused]
NW: 1970 I went to six of them. Headquarters, Bomber Command. As it still was. And we went over as the British judges in the American. So, I flew in B52s then. It was only a few sorties but —
CB: And that’s when you asked for the four Vulcans to come in in formation.
NW: No. They — that was 1977. That was ’69. Can you remember, well you can see the States here. Here is 1969. The lilac city of Spokane in Washington State. Down here is Orlando in Florida. Well, there couldn’t be a bigger trip between the two. Not that that was relevant at the time to having done the, we had our own Americans over to fly with us in the competition where we were based in Orlando. Which was a nice holiday for the lads. And to make sure a court was able to get plenty of attention because you’ve worked out I’m such a modest person I took my own piper with me from Waddington. He was an engine mechanic but he, he was a Scotsman who played in a pipe band. So he made the, all the television rounds in Florida of course. And all the meetings, everybody’s Caledonia associate. If you saw him he couldn’t stand up. He was all like [laughs] he had such a great trip.
CB: Do you remember his name?
AW: So great you had to send him home.
NW: No. I can’t. No. No I can’t. No. I had two adjutants I sent home. Yes.
AW: Getting drunk.
NW: One of them. Yeah. We hadn’t managed get to that business of the wing commanders in the UK. Do we? Oh dear.
AW: No.
NW: No. Well, except to say because you’ll wonder why I’ve closed up on it. This guy thought the work thought the world was an enormous place. And to get from Spokane back to the UK when the competition was over would mean racing across America on a stagecoach. That would take weeks and weeks. Then you’d be on the sailing schooner coming across the Atlantic. And eventually months later you’d arrive in the UK. Now, that wouldn’t have mattered but unfortunately he’d said to a certain young lady there, ‘You must come and see me when I’m in, when I’m at home.’
AW: She did.
NW: In 1970 the corporal on duty at Scampton had a young lady came up, knocked on the door said, ‘Now, corporal can you tell me where wing commander,’ umpty ump, ‘Lives?’ ‘Yes madam,’ he said. ‘Why?’ She said, ‘Well, I want to call on him.’ So Corporal locked up the guard room and took the young lady to the Wing Commander’s house. Knocked on the door. Who answered it?
AW: His wife.
NW: The Wing Commander’s wife who was in a wheelchair. A worse situation I think there could possibly be. So, I was building up the squadron. Waddington then. This gentleman rang me and said, ‘Norman, I’m in terrible trouble.’ Gave me an outline of what had happened. He said, ‘You must have some young men in your lot now,’ he said. ‘Could you spare one of them to entertain this lady for about a week?’ he said, ‘Take, take her out here. Take her out there.’ We’ll find out everything else we can find. Well, I had, the Air Ministry had given me a light, young baby Lightning pilot. He was, I think he was twenty one but he was held up in training because the Lightnings were as usual with British aircraft instruction were way behind. So, the Ministry man said, ‘Would you mind having this?’ ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘Lovely. I can do with an adjutant.’ So, this, the guy at Scampton said, ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Right. See what you can do and you can tell him I’ll pay his expenses.’
AW: To give her away.
NW: So, I called this chap in. He was perfect for the job because he had a two seater sports car. And I said, ‘You’d better sit down. I’m going to tell you some very good news. Well, it could be if you agree to do it.’ I said, ‘There’s a nice good looking young lady staying at Scampton and certain people, including me would like you to entertain her for the next seven or ten days.’ I said, ‘All you’ve got to do is to take her out to a good typically English pub. Take her into Lincoln and see this, that and the everything else.’ Wonderful. The chap said, well he said, ‘Yeah but I’m not terribly well paid sir.’ I said, ‘This is the good bit. The wing commander will pay.’ ‘My God,’ he said. Shot off like a rocket then. [laughs] And they rampaged around Lincolnshire. Pulling down direction boards and doing all the stupid things that students normally do. But it did get her out of the way.
AW: It wasn’t so much away when you took the bombing competitions over to the US the guys getting drunk. It was the fact that they were on television being interviewed drunk. And that didn’t look very good.
CB: Not so good.
AW: For us. In the light of — so that’s why he had to send some of them back home.
NW: Well, the girl was —
AW: Don’t worry darling don’t go into that one.
NW: I’m not going to go —
AW: Because it’s so long, you know.
NW: No.
[recording paused]
CB: Well, thank you ever so much both of you. I can’t think of any other particular questions to ask you. Is there anything else —
NW: Lovely to see you. As I told you —
CB: That you can think of.
NW: You’re absolutely right for the job.
CB: Thank you ever so much and thank you so much for your time. And thank you Norman for recounting your memories for us of such interesting times. Thank you.
NW: Sorry some of them have been way out. I agree.
CB: No. It’s been absolutely fantastic. Very very interesting to listen.
NW: You’ve had to —
AW: More way out than that.
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
Interview with Norman Edward Wilkins
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Cathy Brearley
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
2017-09-22
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AWilkinsNE170922, PWilkinsNE1704
Format
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01:04:16 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
Norman Wilkins was born in West Norwood. At the age of fourteen he joined the Air Training Corps and became a member of Brighton and Hove Air Cadets 176 Squadron. He then joined the University Air Squadron at Oxford, with fees being paid by the Royal Air Force. In 1942-1943 he was sent to Winnipeg for navigation training. At the end of the course he was nominated for the Pathfinder Training Unit at RAF Oakington. Norman did astro navigation on one occasion. He also did a course on the radar navigation system and was posted to RAF Finningley for about two years and a half. Norman flew in Lancasters and was also involved in Operation Manna. He then became president of the 7 Squadron Association which meets once or twice a year.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Yorkshire
England--Oxfordshire
England--Sussex
England--Brighton
Canada
Manitoba--Winnipeg
Manitoba
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
1944
1945
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Sue Smith
Julie Williams
Steph Jackson
7 Squadron
aircrew
bombing
Gee
Lancaster
Lincoln
Me 163
mid-air collision
navigator
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Pathfinders
RAF Finningley
RAF Hemswell
RAF Oakington
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1199/11772/PWilkinE1701.2.jpg
d1d9f7117054d21f19b0408357c3633d
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1199/11772/AWilkinE170607.1.mp3
cca523af9536a22c394ad3e0db9b01f1
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
Wilkin, Eric
E Wilkin
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Eric Wilkin (b. 1924, 176578, 1868779 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as an air gunner with 7 and 115 Squadrons.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-06-07
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
Wilkin, E
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
JS: This interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre. The interviewer is Jim Sheach. The interviewee is Eric Wilkin. The interview is taking place at Mr Wilkin’s home in Blairgowrie, Perth and Kinross on the 7th of June 2017. Eric, thank you for agreeing to take part in this interview. Could you tell me a little about your life before you joined the RAF?
EW: Well, I was a schoolboy [laughs] I left school at the age of sixteen. Went to work on the London North Eastern Railway. Great Eastern Section, Cambridge. And then I was keen to get into the RAF. Didn’t want to be pushed in to the Army if I could help it. I had a chance when they, the soon as the school I got an offer to take a course, an engineering course down at Dagenham College and I went down there. I got temporary residence. Lodgings. And the day after I arrived Jerry came over and bombed a load of the Ford workers out in Dagenham. So they came around and told me that the house I was in which belonged to them for the workers at Dagenham and so out I was on the road. Nowhere to go. So I went to the Trinity Halls in Cambridge and joined up. Joined the RAF. I wanted to be a pilot. ‘Well, you can’t be a pilot. It’s twenty two months wait before you can become, start your training.’ What can I be then? ‘Well, you can probably be a [pause] you might be able to get in as a wireless operator. We’ll give you a test.’ And they sat me down in front of a machine and there was bleep bleep and bop bops going all over the place. I wasn’t making any sense of that so I wasn’t any good as a wireless operator. And they then passed me on to, ‘Well, there’s only one thing left for you and that’s a gunner.’ So, I said, ‘Well, I don’t mind that.’ My father was a machine gunner in World War One. He did his, he, in fact he helped to open the Machine Gun Corps at Belton Hall in Grantham. And he was also chatting about machine guns, machine guns, so ok I’ll be a gunner and in I went. Alright. Get home. Sign everything off. ‘We want you back in seven days.’ And I was in, just like that within seven days as a gunner. So they were short of gunners obviously. From there I went down to London. To the place where all the recruits went. The zoo. And from there it was a question of moving across to Chipping Sodbury, Bridlington and up to Scotland to Number 2 Gunnery School there. And I passed out a gunner. When would we be now? I’ll just check.
[pause]
EW: It would be in [pause – pages turning] If only I could feel my fingers.
[pause]
EW: I passed out as a gunner at, in [pause] can we just hold there [pause] while I check on it.
[recording paused]
JS: Ok.
EW: Ok. I was on my gunnery course at Dalcross on the 17th of July ’43 to the 28th of August ’43. I passed out on the 28th of August ’43 with eighty eight point nine percent result. ‘Very good type. Always at the fore when any work to be done,’ said the chief instructor. And I was first on the course to go up and salute him and take my brevet and stripes and march off. That was in Dalcross. And from there I came down south to RAF Station Wing. And at RAF Station Wing we did another gunnery course and then we crewed up there. Now, my first pilot was an Australian. Evan Chitty was his name. And I was in the room along with a whole crowd of other chaps and a tall fellow came across to me. A fellow by the name of Frank Leatherdale, who became our navigator. That fellow there. And he came across to me, he said, ‘Have you crewed up yet?’ I said, ‘No.’ He said, ‘Well, would you like to join Evan Chitty’s crew as a gunner?’ I said, ‘Yeah.’ ‘A mid-upper gunner.’ I said, ‘Yes. I don’t mind. Nobody else wants me.’ You see. And so I went across and was introduced to Evan Chitty and we went through the whole training course as a crew with a rear gunner named John Wagner. Now, John Wagner did five trips with us, this is jumping forward a bit and then decided that he was unfit. And he was unfit. He was terribly ill. And so he retired from the crew and we got another gunner then. But I went to Evan, with Evan Chitty and we went flying around the country on Wellingtons. In fact, I did a nickel with him to Paris [pause] In August it was. It would be about then, did this nickel to Paris. And after we’d done the, that we were doing other training around the country. Flying Wellingtons out of RAF Station Wing. And he flew with a very bad cold one night and he got pneumonia. And of course they put him straight into Ely Hospital, put him in an oxygen tent and he was there for three weeks. So, I was without a skipper. So, then I met up with McKechnie. Don McKechnie. He was a Canadian who had been flying navigators around Canada with one foot on the control column and a dish of food in the other hand. He’d done it that frequently that he was, you know absolutely bored rigid with it. And he came to us as — I was going to say clueless. That’s nearly good enough. Clueless. Tail less pilot. And he was fixed up with the crew that I was with because we were floating you see having lost our skipper. And anyway, Mac took over as pilot. Donald S McKechnie. A spoiled Canadian boy he was. Never hear from him. Never heard from him. Wrote every year. Sent him Christmas cards and all the rest. And it was the final reply we got from him, the whole crew this was, was a handwritten sheet telling what he’d done, what he hadn’t done since he’d been out of the Canadian Air Force, or out of the Air Force after he went back. And he then had it photostatted and sent to all of us. That was the last we heard of him. That was Mac. So, but if you wanted Mac you could always find him shooting crap on the billiard table in the officer’s mess with his other Canadian friends. That’s where you could find Mac always. And he and I never really got on well together. Although he would never fly without me, we never really got on personally well together. In the same crew we had Frank Leatherdale. Now, Frank was like a big brother to me. Very very military type, Frank. Died only about a fortnight, three weeks ago. And he was marvellous chap, Frank Leatherdale. We had — Ken Denly was the bomb aimer. Arthur France was the engineer. He was the boy who went in for the dough. And then we had Bernard Payne who was [laughs] a bit of a dude. Always wore leather gloves. Always had his cuffs turned back and, and Bernard was, he was a loveable chap. We used to box together he and I. And the last man of course was Joe Wagner. George. John Wagner, as I say, who eventually left us and was replaced by Joe Hayes. A nice little fellow from Wrexham in Wales [pause] Of the crew I, they’re all dead. Frank died just as I say a few weeks ago. Ken Denly, he died oh six years ago. Arthur Franks in ’86. Joe, he died about five years ago. Bernard Payne got run over by his own car. He’d parked it on a sloping drive and went to open the garage door and it ran over him and killed him. And that was the end of that crew. But that’s the crew there. There’s the Canadian skipper. That’s Frank Leatherdale. That’s Ken Denley, the bomb aimer. That’s Arthur France the one who wanted to get out and make the dough. That was Bernard Payne with his sleeves. You can’t see them. And that was Joe Hayes. And myself there.
[pause]
Now, as a, as a crew we went first to Waterbeach and did our training on Stirlings. Then from there we were taken off Stirlings and put on Lancaster 2s. And we were then taken over to 115 Squadron at Witchford and we were on Lancaster 2s. Those were the ones with the radial engines. Nice aircraft. Very very quick to get off the deck. Much quicker than the Mark 3 and, you know they sort of went to the end of the runway and went up like that. But once they got up there they waffled you know. They hadn’t — and then I did a tour at Witchford with McKechnie of twenty nine because he did one as a second dickie. So, I got one short there off thirty. I went then to Oakington with the same crew. Except Arthur. Went with the same crew to Oakington. And we were alright there. Flew with McKechnie there. And then when he came to the, his twenty eighth trip, ‘I’m going home.’ So, right — the crew broke up and all went their various ways. I was left high and dry. I’d, although I’d finished a tour, the actual second tour I didn’t want to leave because you see Oakington RAF station was six miles from my home. I saw Oakington built. I loved Oakington. I worked at Oakington Railway Station. So, it was a home from home for me. So, everything was nice and comfy. I thought I’d try and stay on. So I went and saw the gunnery leader and he said, ‘Ok. You can do. You can join Flash McCullough crew. Now, Flash McCullough [pause] What a lad. He was a Liverpudlian. Looked like Don Ameche. Just like Don Ameche.
[pause]
EW: That’s — there he is. Flash McCullough. And there I teamed up then with the new crew altogether. There was Lucky Hudson, Barker. Myself there. This fellow, Griffiths was a w/op. And this was the engineer Syd. Very quiet chap from Stockport. And of course there that’s Tiger Smith. Not Tiger Smith. They all called him Smithy. He had a standing joke. He always said Smiff. You know. He caused trouble on paper raids by saying he was Smith with two F’s [laughs] Things like that. That was Smithy but I called him Tiger because the first time I met him was when I went to join the crew and he was grinning from ear and I said, ‘You know, you remind me of the poem, “The tiger that always smiled.” So, he became Tiger. Only to me. No one else in the group called him Tiger. They called him Smithy but he was Tiger to me. And his daughter is the one I think whose put you in touch with me. Mrs Brown. Yeah. So, he was a lovely lad was Tiger. Marvellous man. Wonderful gunner. A wonderful gunner. That was it. And I went on to Oakington as I say and I did twenty eight there with McKechnie. And then when he went away and I joined this crew I did another fifteen with them. So, in all seventy three. Seventy two trips. Some very good. Some very not so good. But I got this book here of my own personal reminiscences. You might like to look at them. They’re all my own comments. Little things that I picked up. Like nickels and that that we dropped. And comments there. Actually, the worst trip I think that we ever did was, going back to McKechnie was about the 7th of June 1944. ’44 — to Chevreuse, south west of Paris. Now, that was the time we’d landed in France on the 6th of June and they were bombing all the railways to stop the troops being brought up from Italy to reinforce the troops on the, on the Channel. And they said there was a railway line there [laughs] Pardon my laughing but this is funny. They said there was a railway line there and we went to bomb it. And when we got there there were no rail, there wasn’t a railway line. It was thick fog and there was, from Witchford they sent twelve aircraft and lost six there that night. Including the flight commander. And all we were doing was flying around in this fog. And then you’d suddenly see a shadow come looming out. You’d draw on him and he’d be a Lancaster. And then you’d — the next thing there’d be another one. You’d draw on him and he’d disappear before you could fire. It was a JU88 or a Focke Wulf 190 because of course we were right next door to the German airfield in Paris. And to lose half your squadron on one night that was a very very bad night that. A night I never forget and never will. I always will remember. The station was absolutely miserable. Absolutely miserable. We had some wonderful ops. Some wonderful ops. The finest one that I went on was the one to that crafty little German chap. Was a chum of Hitler’s. He got bumped off, didn’t he? Do you remember him? Well, he brought up a —
[pause — pages turning]
EW: There’s that Chevreuse one.
[pause – pages turning]
EW: It was a beautiful raid. I’m trying to think where it was now. But [pause] Villers-Bocage. He’d got all his tanks and everything there. And they called us, rushed us out, bombed us up and sent us off. And the whole lot arrived there all together. Halifaxes, Lancasters, hundreds of aircraft all showered bombs down on this place. And I’m told, I didn’t see it myself, I’m told that a person who went to the place there was a German tank on the roof of a house that had been blown up there. They really did plaster them. That was the finest raid I ever did see. There was just one big black cloud when, when we left. It was the best one I — it was a cracking raid that. And then of course I was on the one to the pottery town. The one that caused all the trouble with Bomber Command and everything. I was, that was a good raid that one. The Germans were miserable about that. They were saying, you know you came over here and they were on our raid err TV claiming that the chaps who took part in that raid ought to be prosecuted as terrorists and all sorts of things. But they’d got — they got a hundred thousand young girls from Eastern Europe working in the factories in Dresden. In the tobacco factory making ammunition for the fighters. In the glass factory making gun sights and torpedo sights and everything. And these poor girls were — had one solitary overall. They didn’t have any clothes at all. But oh no, and they were made to stay ten hours a day in the factory. Working there. Bitterly cold. And then we go over and we blast that and the people who get killed are those girls because they didn’t have air raid shelters. The Germans would have their air raid shelters you see. They got killed. They were the people who were piled up thirty five deep in the market square after the raid. Aye. That was. Then of course the whole blooming shooting match took on to that. There was that wing commander. What was his name now? Woods, was it, who was the chief, chief padre for the RAF? He started it. Running us down. Letting us down. Saying we were criminals and all the rest of it. And then we didn’t handle that very well at all. And that’s why Bomber Command didn’t get any recognition until about a couple of years ago. Over that do down there. I mean poor old Butch Harris he didn’t get a anything out of it. They didn’t make him a lord. Should have done. He was smeared with paint and everything — his statue. It made me mad that did. I lost patience with it. In fact in some of the books there I was looking the other day and I made some very caustic remarks about it. That was the — but anyway I finished up as I say doing seventy two. I got the DFC and bar for it and I had the sad misfortune of getting it when King George the 6th was very ill. So, again I had to go down to London to collect mine. Walked into this office. It must have been the Air Ministry. There was a sergeant there, a discip standing behind the counter. ‘Name?’ Told him. Climbed the steps. Threw it. Threw it across the counter. I said, ‘Thank you very much.’ Yeah. Just threw it across the counter. It was, you know, he could have handed it to me. But there we are. That’s life. That’s life. I’ve enjoyed, I enjoyed my service career. I had never got hurt at all. Never got hurt. I got frozen up several times. I’ve broken icicles off my oxygen mask eighteen inches long when we’ve been flying. And my legs have been dead with pin — with [pause] what do you call them now? When you get aches and pains. Not pins and needles. Hot aches. I’ve been hopping around the station for three days with hot aches in my legs. And it was that that was [unclear] The trouble was you see with the turret, the mid-upper turret you had the ammunition boxes on either side of your legs. So, in order to get electricity to your feet and slippers that you had, electric shoes, socks, they had these strip wire down and this side of your leg and that side of your leg was totally exposed. Bitterly cold. In fact, I thought [laughs] for claiming a war wound stripe. We ran into a, a JU88 night fighter. It was a clear moonlit night and you could see them. Ours and theirs floating around in the sky. Just like fairy, fairy things you know. And there were four in a row. One, two, third was a JU88 and another one. Seven or eight hundred yards away from us. It was that clear you could see them. Bright night. And suddenly this JU88 loosed off a couple of cannon shells and stopped one in our petrol tank on the port wing which didn’t go off and the other one into the flaps on the port wing. So we had to land at Woodbridge because we couldn’t put flaps down you see. And then we had to leave the aeroplane there and they towed it away and got the shells out of it and blew them up. So, that was the nearest I ever had to getting the chop. But on that, on a particular night we were flying and a shell burst near us and it, it, well it made a colander of one side of the aircraft and a piece of fragment went into the ammunition box alongside my leg. And I felt some sharp pain in my leg when — bang, you know. And I couldn’t wait to get down and see what had happened. I rolled my trouser leg up carefully and looked and I’d just got one little bruise there. What had happened was a piece of shell splinter that was meant for me should have come through and smacked in to my leg. Smacked into the base of a couple of rounds. 303. The bullets came through the aluminium casing and hit me in the leg. So it took it all off. So that was the nearest do I ever had to getting my wound stripe up [laughs] Oh happy days. They were happy days. As I say, my earlier life was spent in Cambridgeshire. The village I lived in was Cottenham and my father was a farm labourer. Served in World War One. He was wounded five err wounded three times. Gassed five. And he had an open wound in his back in 1931 from World War One. And he was pensioned out of the Machine Gun Corps on half a crown a day for a week. And that was his pension. World War One. He came out. Started up a fish and chip shop in Nottingham. Doing great guns mother and he. Both of them, 1924 five hundred quid each in the bank. Wonderful. 1926 — the local pit struck. They were coming, ‘Could they have fish and chips on the tick?’ You see. And they came and dad said, and then the husbands were coming. And dad was one hundred percent against strikes. He was furious. He said, ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’ll set tables up in the shop. The women and kids can come in. They can have free fish and chips. They’re not having them.’ Had the windows smashed, the door was kicked in. Another one. All bang crash wallop. But it was fun when you look back on it now but dad said to the mining leader there who came in, he said, ‘You know, you’ll go back on pit boy’s pay.’ And he did. And he did. Went back on pit pony boy’s pay. Can I get some down? Am I talking rubbish?
JS: Absolutely not. Absolutely not.
EW: Oh.
JS: That’s been absolutely fascinating. You know, you spoke about —
EW: Now —
JS: When you, when you came out.
EW: Pardon?
JS: When, when you came out of the RAF after the war.
EW: Ah well.
JS: Coming out from Bomber Command. What did you do then?
EW: It was when I came out of the RAF I went to the demob centre and I had trouble there. I’m trying to think how it came about [pause] I was handing him the kit and I had a .38 Smith and Wesson that belonged to the RAF and had been issued to me. Oh, I know what it was. Yes. We had a fire in the hut and it burned my [pause] kit bag with all the data about this pistol and I never bothered to go and have it re-registered to me. And when I got to the centre to come out of the RAF I handed what over they wanted off me. And I pulled this pistol out. I said, ‘You can have that now.’ ‘You can’t. We can’t take it. You’ll have to wait.’ So, I went and sat down. I sat there all day. And at the end of the day I said, ‘Well, what’s happening?’ They said, ‘Oh, we can’t take it. We can’t. We’re trying to find out what we’ve got to do with it.’ And so I sat there for a whole day before he said, ‘We’ll take it in custody and look after it. I said, ‘Well, what have I got to do?’ ‘You come back tomorrow and get your hat and your togs,’ you see, ‘But you can come back tomorrow.’ So I lost a complete day there over a blasted pistol. I didn’t want the flaming thing. I’d used it mind you quite a bit but I didn’t want it. As a matter of fact I used to take it home with me and go out in the fields behind my house where I lived at Cottenham and I used to put a target up in the base of a tree and shoot at it. And I was quite good at it. I went back about seven or eight years afterwards, after I’d been plugging into this tree and the tree had died and blown over [laughs] So, the only thing I ever killed with a pistol [laughs] The only thing I ever killed. Now, Frank Leatherdale, the navigator on the first crew he had a luger. One of these wooden holstered ones which he lost when he was in Korea. He went to Korea, Frank did. And it’s in the river [unclear] or whatever it is there. He threw it in there rather than be captured. We lived in Nissen huts at Witchford and Frank was a fanatic wooden aircraft modeller and I used to go and sit with him and watch him modelling away and do little bits for him in his billet. Used to sit in the corner. And he always used to be eating something. He used to go to the NAAFI and buy loads of cake and stuff, bring it back, put it — have a nibble of it and put it down. And a mouse got to hear about this and of course the Nissen huts there had been built — well you know how. They just put down a concrete flat and then bolted it around the outside. And you got all these corrugation all the way around. Of course, Frank then saw this mouse at it. Jumped up and got his stick and went after it and it was through this hole and outside. Frank said, ‘Right, matey I’m ready for you.’ He loads up his luger and he waits. The next day the mouse came in. I wasn’t there at the time but I heard about it. And he put this pistol down the hole the mouse went and banged until he’d emptied the magazine [laughs] and went outside expecting to see a dead mouse. He’d blown a hole through the concrete footpath. Oh, he was a lad. Lovely time. It was that sort of thing made life worth living. Poor old Frank. Aye. I spent hours with that lad with an astro compass at Wing. Shooting the North Star. He was going to teach me navigation but he never got around to it. He was too busy all the while doing something or other on his own navigation. But he was going to teach me to navigate so that I’d be able to move over into the navigator’s seat if ever I needed. But my theory on navigation was steer 270 and that [laughs] that’s was about it. But that was Frank. But oh, we did have some fun. It was a great life. A great life. I wouldn’t be against anybody. My younger son who is looking after me now has just come out. He’s done twenty two and a half years and —
[telephone ringing]
EW: He’s not. Wait a minute. She’ll come around.
JS: That’s it.
EW: She’ll stop it.
[recording paused]
EW: No. He’s done twenty two years and I don’t think he’s enjoyed it as much as I did in my four and a half. I don’t think as much. After I finished at [pause] at Oakington I went to Market Harborough. Gunnery. And I was in the gunnery section there and I had a wonderful time. I — do you remember this or did you know the scanners they used to scan film on in the RAF? And it used to go click click click. A square at a time. Well, I converted one of those into a scan to scan night vision shots that were taken of a Hurricane attacking a Wellington. The Hurricane had two infrared lamps set a foot each inside the wingspan and they showed up as black dots. So we got a film, a picture with two black dots. Two black dots up here and they get bigger and come around like that and I’d got to try and scan them. And what I did was eventually to get these [pause] a template put over it and I could draw a line across between these plots and plot them. And we were able to assess that. Now, the wing commander in charge of gunnery in that group was named Windmill. He came down, patted me on the back and gave the gong to the fellow who was in charge of the section for doing this. So, I was — but I didn’t want it. It was a what do you call it now? Galloping horses. He got that. Corky got that. And I had a wonderful time there at Market Harborough. And then of course that closed down. We moved from Market Harborough then to RAF Station Manby. That was the station where I believe the CO route marched the whole station because of an incident on parade going on Thursday. Route marched the whole lot, men and women — and in snowy weather. And they had to go around with ambulances picking up the women who’d passed out. That was at Manby. Well, it hadn’t changed very much. But I made the best of my time there by joining in with a drama group. And with a couple of German soldiers, prisoners of war, we knocked down the old stage in the number two hangar and we brought all the wood down to the upper deck of the airman’s mess and we built a stage there with these two Germans. And one was an electrician so I said, ‘Would you wire it?’ He’d love to, he said. So I said, ‘Righto then. Tell me what wire I’ve got to order.’ ‘Don’t worry. Don’t worry. I’ve seen the wire.’ He’d seen all the scrap wire down on the dump. So, I had to go and accompany him down there and he was pulling this out, rolling this up and pulled this out. Do you know we had a stage there as good as a West End stage. Yeah. The fairy godmother could disappear. She did once. She fell through [laughs] But they could disappear. Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear. We had some wonderful days. Shows there and pantomimes. And the old man was quite pleased with it and he was quite pleased. He came on the stage and said he liked to see a good old fashioned pantomime where everybody knew what everybody was going to do. So that was Manby. And after Manby out into the wide world. I was ready to go. I was demobbed [pause] And I just got married and living and here we are. You know. That’s a crude effort that of mine but that’s roughly what the way it went. Now, of the people I met that I’ve rated highly I rated Flash McCullogh. His wife lives at, down on the south coast. His widow. Flash McCullogh. Lucky Hudson. Of course, Tiger Smith. Yes. He’s, he’s dead and gone. Tiger. Syd James. I’d rate him high but I think he’s gone. That’s McCullogh, McCullough’s crew. McKechnie’s crew — they’re all dead. All dead. Apart from me. And I am, you know in the knacker’s yard as you might say. Yes.
JS: What, what did you do —
EW: That’s what I say to the doctor when he comes to the house, ‘If I’d have been a horse you’d have shot me six years ago.’ And he look at me gone out. He can’t understand why, you know. Clinging on to life and that. Anyway, then McCullough. That was all I had really in crew.
JS: What did —
EW: I can’t think of anything else to tell you.
JS: What did you do after the war?
EW: Somewhere in here I’ve got a write up I did on Oakington RAF Station. When it was built and all the rest because I worked at Oakington Railway and I used to love to go up the signal outside. Peer across and see what they were doing. It was funny you know. Oakington RAF. I wasn’t there at the time but when the 5.20 to Kettering came down and it was one of the old fashioned ones with huge wheels at the side. Went from Cambridge to Kettering. They used to be loading the Stirlings up and they used to bring all the Stirlings right around the airfield and park them alongside the railway line. Tail on to the railway line. Bomb them up and everything. And you could virtually see the carriages lean over as the people all clawed out of the way. I thought what a marvellous way, ‘Hello. Is that Herr Watson? They’re coming tonight. They’re loading up at Oakington. I can even see it.’ You could almost hear them saying it. It was an absolute give away. And those poor old Stirlings used to get knocked the hell out of it. But I flew a Stirling with — when Chitty was a pilot. Chitty always said that if ever he was knocked out I was to take over. And we were at Wratting Common. What a place. It was just being made an airfield. It was all mud and water and the billets literally they ran with, down the wall. If ever we went in, if we lit a fire — condensation. Condensation right across the room like fog. And I found a way of breaking up some trees there that had been chopped down. They were silver birch. By picking them up as a log, bashing them on this metal trough they broke, they sheared off and we stuffed some, the fire with these logs. And the lads of course they could do it. Bernard and the rest of them they kept stuffing them in and the chimney pipe went red. It went straight through the roof red and was glowing red outside. They had the station police down, ‘Put that out.’ [laughs] What a blooming effort. Yes. That was it. But they used to hang the sheets up and they used to steam. That was a wicked place. But anyway I flew a Stirling at — when Chitty called me up alongside him. Sat me on the co-pilot’s seat. Said, ‘Right. It’s all yours. You fly it. Let me see how you can fly an aeroplane.’ And I flew completely around the cross country we were doing. A lot of, you know jittery but never the less I did it. And he called the crew together when we finished and said, ‘Right. If I get knocked out Eric takes the wheel.’ And they understood that. The lads understood that. They’d say, ‘Before he takes the wheel let me know and open the escape door,’ you know. And that sort of thing.’ They were quite genuine, the lads [laughs] Now, I wish we were all together again for a good do. You know. We’d have a right good do. Anyway, I hope I’ve been helpful.
JS: That’s good. After the war what did you do in civilian life?
EW: Pardon?
JS: After the war what did you do in civilian life?
EW: Oh. I went, I got married in 1956 err ’46. So I was married seventy three years last year. I’ve got the old thing hanging up there from the Queen. And I joined Stanton Ironworks Company near Nottingham. And I went to work there in the slag sales department. Accounts section. Doing the accounts which was in an awful mess. It had been left to a number of girls and they got in an awful mess. You know, you were constantly having telephone calls from customers saying — look, I bought so and so on such and such a date at fifty five and six and I had some the next day and it was fifty seven and six. Why? You know. They’d got all everything all munched up. So I sorted that out. And then along came the chance of being the assistant welfare officer because the assistant welfare officer shot himself on the range at Stanton. He’d been mucking around with the girls and got himself into trouble and he shot himself with a 22 on the range. So, I joined Colonel [unclear] OBE or MBE one of which. And I did four years with him in welfare. He and I got on like a house on fire. And then the job came up for — they were wanting a representative for slag sales. That’s the blast furnace slag crust turned into roadstone coated with tar and bitumen and what have you. So, I was lectured by the assistant commercial manager and told that it had been let go badly which it had. Old Palmer had had an easy life. He wasn’t very keen on selling slag. And I made an effort there and got that on its feet and along came a chap from Amalgamated Roadstone Corporation. A Jock Turner. And he was friendly with Cameron and said to Cameron, ‘I’ve got a good job going. Do you know anybody who is good?’ You know at Roadstone and that? And Ken said, ‘Oh, we’ve got the class. We’ve got the lad.’ Cameron got me in. He said, ‘You want to go there. You’ll be a director in two in two or three years.’ I went along. He was the biggest twister out. This chap. I stuck it for six years. Do you know I was waiting for my expense account to be settled four months after I’d spent my money? I’d [eleven?] pounds then and the expense account wasn’t very heavy either because I was always very keen to keep it as low as possible. And anyway I went in, went in to the office one day and then I said, ‘By the way, I’ll be leaving in a month. Here’s my notice. Goodbye.’ Oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear. I thought he was going to cry. But anyway, I left and I joined ICI at Buxton. Now, a fellow who works at, also worked in the Leicestershire field, Don Bell was the sales manager for ICI Roadstone. And I got in touch with him and he said, ‘Yes. You’re just the man we want, Eric. Right away.’ Went up to see him. He interviewed me. I was in, and I was with ICI until 1978. Then along comes this smart fellow who knows how to do everybody’s accounts. Do you remember him? Johns was his name. Remember him? Thick set fella. ICI closed down after he’d been there. He came along and tried to close [unclear] down. Do you remember the series? I watched him very carefully, he closed ICI down and ICI sold the paint to a Dutch firm and making thousands out of Dulux that Dutch firm. He sold it and they just kept the chemical works. Not the chemical as much as the medical stuff over at, over in, near Macclesfield. And I came out with a reasonable pension. They’ve been very good to me. I get my pension regularly and they write to me and tell me how they are and that sort of thing. They were a good firm to work for. A pity they ever packed up. I went in to the salt mine in Cheshire on one occasion. What a sight to behold. Go underground and face a seventy foot face of salt with cranes, big diggers shovelling up. Underground. You couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. That was a wonderful wonderful firm. But what I liked about ICI was no matter how high up a manager was if a junior person came along with an idea of some sort they would listen to it and if it was reasonable say, ‘Right. Go ahead.’ If it wasn’t reasonable say, ‘Well, we’ll talk this one over. Don’t do anything yet.’ They were very, very very reasonable. A remarkable firm to work for. Pity they ever folded up. Pity they were folded up. And that was after. Then when I retired I came up here. Now, I used to be an enthusiastic gardener. Look at the mess it is now. What a mess. I used to put three and a half thousand bedding plants out a year here and a beautiful show. And the lawn which is like a grass field now was like a bowling green. And we used to play carpet bowls on it. I’ve got a carpet bowls set in the back there. I used to play carpet bowls with the kids. Up and down it. And that kept me busy. And then in 19 — in the centennial year 2000 I was looking after my son’s dogs and he lived at Brechin. He’s the eldest son. He was a dentist and he was divorcing his wife. Or his wife was divorcing. I don’t know which but they divorced. And we were looking after him, my wife was from Monday to Friday. And I brought the dogs over here and looked after them and the pair of dogs and I went four and a half mile walk each day. I had a wonderful time. And on centennial night, the year 2000 I was over in Brechin and I took the two dogs for a walk. And we went into Brechin Park and I stood on the top of a grassy slope that leads down to Brechin War Memorial listening to them chiming in the New Year. And I slipped and fell and broke a rib. And I swear to this day that’s what started this. I’ll swear it’s that because nobody knows what causes this except they know it’s the finger, fingertip nerves that have been cantalised, eaten, torn away but you can hardly bend your fingers. And anyway in 19 — 1903 I bought myself a second new car. We had a caravan up to then because we used to travel around with these sons. Getting rid of wives and having children and that. Used to travel around in the caravan. I got rid of the caravan. Got rid of that car. Bought a new car. A little — a Japanese anyway. A lovely little car. And I ran it for three years. My granddaughter, I gave it to her. She lives in Aberdeen and is an accountant. And she’s driving it now. 1903 was a good little car and I turned my driving licence in the same year. Of course I did this. I realised I’d got to. I drive on the roads to the bottom here and there’s a halt sign and when I went to put my declutch put my foot down and the car lurched and jumped. You know. That sort of thing. And my wife, ‘Oh, what are you doing?’ You know. That sort of thing. So, I knew I wasn’t fit to drive. So, I packed the car up there and then and as I say gave it to my granddaughter. And that brings me right up to present.
JS: Yeah. That’s been really super. That’s been terrific.
EW: Has it?
JS: Magic. Just let me stop the record —
EW: What I will try and do is find that —
JS: Can I — yeah.
EW: Sheet of paper about Oakington for you.
JS: Can I just stop this recording.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Eric Wilkin
Creator
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James Sheach
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-06-07
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AWilkinE170607, PWilkinE1701
Conforms To
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Pending review
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Format
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01:04:56 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
Erik Wilkin worked on the railways before he joined the RAF. Initially he wanted to be a pilot but it would be a significant wait for training. He trained as an air gunner and was posted to 115 Squadron. On one occasion his aircraft made an emergency landing at RAF Woodbridge after been attacked by a Ju 88. On another occasion he was injured in the leg from a shell splinter. Eric’s first pilot showed him how to fly the aeroplane so he would be able to take over if the pilot was injured. Eric was awarded the DFC and bar but did not receive any courtesy in its award.
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Spatial Coverage
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France
Great Britain
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Suffolk
France--Chevreuse Valley
Temporal Coverage
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1944-06-07
115 Squadron
7 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
Distinguished Flying Cross
entertainment
Ju 88
Lancaster
Lancaster Mk 2
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Pathfinders
RAF Oakington
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Witchford
RAF Woodbridge
RAF Wratting Common
Stirling
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1054/11432/AOttewellJA161230.1.mp3
ed6d965b6a00fedce14849a82f016376
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Ottewell, John Alan
J A Ottewell
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Flying Officer John Alan Ottewell DFM (1582251, 191334 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a navigator with 7 and 115 Squadrons.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-12-30
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Ottewell, JA
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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DB: This, this is an interview with John Alan Ottewell in Downend Bristol on the 30th of December at 1445 hours. John can you tell me a little about your childhood and why you decided to join the RAF?
JO: Well, I was always interested in aircraft. Built model aeroplanes as a lad and joined the, what was the precursor to the ATC, the Air Defence Cadet Corp. Rose to the dizzy rank of sergeant. And signed on for the air force when I was eighteen. Call up papers at eighteen and went to London to, in the RAF pool which was based in Lord’s Cricket Ground. And next door to Lord’s Cricket was a huge garage which was the equipment centre. And in Regent’s Park are huge blocks of flats which were the, where everybody was sleeping and eating and so on. And I was there for about three weeks under what was called the PNB scheme. I’m sure you’ve heard of that. Pilot, navigator, bomb aimer. And I was then sent, having been kitted out with the uniform and marched about a bit and taught a few things I went to Derby, Burnaston to fly Tiger Moths and be sorted out as to whether I was going to be pilot, navigator or bomb aimer. And while I was there we stayed at Repton School which was pretty sparse there. There was no heating and it was winter. But I didn’t go solo in the twelve hours allocated. Nearly went but not quite and so I was posted as a navigator. And I went then down to Babbacombe for — here’s a picture of it look. You can see where I was. At the, now this was in a, in a hotel. We were stationed in various hotels in Babbacombe and I was in one called The Downs. There’s one. That’s still there today. And the Sefton is still there but it’s completely different. It’s been rebuilt. And while we were there we were doing exercises one Sunday afternoon on Oddicombe Beach and Babbacombe was attacked by a lone raider. Well, there were actually five lone 190s came over in different parts of the south coast and one came over Babbacombe. It let its bomb go as it crossed the coast. One bomb went, the left hand bomb went through our billet, the Downs Hotel and took a lot of my gear away because it was, we were in an upper floor. We were on the, we were on the beach in in PT kit and the other one hit St Mary Church and killed twenty four people of which there was a local orphanage. There were four teachers and twenty children and I’ve got the cuttings in here if they’re of interest to you. You can take a picture of them. So we were marched up. Well, while we were on the beach. It was a lovely day and suddenly paper fluttering down on the beach was pages from bibles and hymnbooks. We were marched back up and then, by which time all the rescue people had been in the church and got the bodies out but we were employed to go through the rubble to see whether there was anything of significance, you know buried or anything. And a couple of pictures of that in there. And strangely enough one of the four teachers had the same name, surname as myself but I’ve never been able to find out whether she was related. Have you Chris? Have you?
CO: No.
JO: No. You haven’t. So, anyway I passed out of there and went up to, we went to Heaton Park in Manchester which was a holding unit. And friends went off to Canada and USA and I happened to go to Bishops Court in Northern Ireland. Did the navigation training there and on the way back there was a huge storm and we were sitting in the boat for forty eight hours because it couldn’t dock in, in Stranraer. And they didn’t have much in the way of food so we were eating ship’s biscuits which were sort of emergency rations. They made plenty of tea though so we were alright there. And then where did I go then? I’ve got to have a think now. From there I went down to one of the, my memory’s going, near Banbury. Old Warden. Is it Old Warden? Oh, is that my phone or yours?
CO: Mine.
JO: I went to Old Warden on Wellingtons and we flew around. We, well the first thing we did we were all assembled in one of the large hangars. About twenty pilots and twenty navigators and forty bomb aimers err forty gunners and told to form up into crews. Which somehow we did. I don’t quite know how it worked but eventually we did and then we flew the Wellington as a crew and spent, well a few weeks there and then we went to the Heavy Conversion Unit at Feltwell which flew Stirlings. The Stirling was a very nice aeroplane but it was all electric and if the undercarriage failed, for example it was about six hundred winds of a very short handle to get it down. But the, usually the flight engineer carried a half a penny in his pocket so the copper of the half penny he could put in the fuse slot and it wouldn’t blow [laughs] So then the undercarriage would come down and lock. And the Stirling was a very nice aeroplane. And then eventually I went to Witchford on the Lancaster so you can stop it [laughs]
[recording paused]
JO: Well we started operating at Witchford. Let me just have a look and see. I’ve got my logbook here somewhere.
[recording paused]
JO: Switch it on again. We started ops at, at Witchford, bombing Northern France to help the invasion. Caen and places like that. And then we, after three or four ops we did a very long one to Stettin in Poland. Nine hours forty. Which is the absolute limit of what a Lancaster would do. About ten hours. They had, from memory they had two thousand one hundred and fifty four gallons of fuel and they used a gallon a nautical mile. So it gives you the range. And Stettin was just getting to the limit of that. What else? So then, then after that we began to do support for the invasion. Did a Le Havre. Oh. Wait a minute. Just looking back in my book here we did an op to Kiel when we were hit by flak. Oh yes. Charlie Sergeant was sitting above that and it hit the port side of the aircraft. Got the controls to the elevators and damaged the controls to the elevators and cut the controls to the rudders and cut off all the hydraulics so the, the turrets wouldn’t work because they’re driven off the port inboard. And so that was interesting. But we were able to land by using differential power. And then we went on various ops. And I got the job at Witchford of making a radar map. H2S had, we’d just changed the H2S from ten centimetres which was not, not very clear because it’s the wavelength was ten centimetres so anything smaller wouldn’t show up. We went to three centimetre H2S and a tremendous improvement in the quality of the pictures. And I did a trip out to the Ruhr and took pictures of the cathode ray tube of the H2S outlining, showing where the different things you could take bearings on. Lakes, rivers, things like that. And that was put up in the crew room at Witchford and was there when the station closed I was told. You know, when, at the end of the war. So you might find somebody who remembers that. You may [laughs] It’s possible. Anyway, there we are. So, we did, we did altogether I think twenty nine ops at Witchford and then we went to Warboys. We were asked if we would go to be Pathfinders. And Donald Bennett was after the, what he supposed were the top crews. I suppose we’d survived and qualified for that. And three of the crew left. A Canadian bomb aimer and the flight engineer and, and one of the others went. And we got a new, a new crew or new members and we then went to, from having trained at Warboys we went to Oakington with 7 Squadron. And there we are. Ok. Well, Witchford of course was a temporary wartime station. Nissen huts heated by a single coke stove in the middle and the Nissen hut held two crews normally. And you had to get enough coke and coal to keep the stove going to keep the thing warm because obviously as fast as you put heat in it went out and there was many a night foray to the local coal dump to [laughs] to top up the thing. Hopefully unseen by the guards but I think they turned a blind eye. Whereas when we got to Oakington we had a pre-war modern station. We had a batman. I think I had a batwoman but to look after, she took care of about four officers and it was very very comfortable. And also at Oakington was a Mosquito squadron and they were training. They were an interesting squadron. They were training to toss bombs up tunnels. They’d fly towards the tunnel with the bomb, let the bomb go and go up the side of the mountain. A very dangerous game. And they practiced on Oakington because they put some hoops from the Nissen huts to give them the, where the tunnel entrance was. I mean obviously there was no mountain or anything and it was a fairly safe procedure but they did their practice there. And we also while we were there obviously there was the invasion going across the Rhine and gliders were being towed across. And while we were there one of them landed at Oakington and about, the soldiers all dashed out ready with their guns to go into action only to find they were in the middle of an RAF airfield. Which was, we thought was amusing. They did not. Well, then we were posted to St Eval in Cornwall to join the Tiger Force. Now, the Tiger Force was going to help bomb Japan. And the problem is with the two thousand mile range on a Lancaster and Vancouver to Honolulu being two thousand miles we had a problem. How to get the Lancasters into the Japanese war because they couldn’t make it. They didn’t have the Azores and Labrador and things in the way. So we had to wait until they were fitted with a four hundred gallon tank, from memory, in the bomb bay. And that was fitted by people who were flight refuelling. And on Wikipedia there’s something about it said they hoped to use flight refuelling but of course they didn’t. Flight refuelling didn’t exist as a, as a system. It was just that the flight refuelling were the people who supplied the tankage and the pipes and the pumps and fitted them. And as the aircraft were fitted out they took off and went off and we were number ten. During that time I got some leave and got married. So, so anyway eventually of course the atom bomb was dropped and I think it’s possible if it hadn’t been dropped I wouldn’t be here because we would have been bombing Japan. And it, I think it saved a lot of lives. But there was an aircraft got as far as Vancouver. And they were, they were, they were scattered and we were just ready to go and the war stopped. So end of story really.
[recording paused]
JO: A very good friend my mother. And she had a daughter. And her daughter was friends with a, with a girl at where she worked who was, eventually became my wife. I was introduced to her by that.
[recording paused]
JO: I was only in it for a couple of years obviously and I joined Transport Command flying, well we had I did a short bit on Warwicks which was a grown up version of the Wellington. But we flew Yorks on, down to Cairo and Gibraltar and all over the place and I finished on those about two or three months before I was due to be demobbed. I was posted to Lyneham and operated in the control tower for a little while. And then in 1947 I was demobbed and we went up to Warton where of course they make the Typhoons today. They had a big hangar full of suits and shoes and suitcases and hats. All made by Montague Burton who you, you really wouldn’t know about I’m sure but they were the, they were the tailors of the time. And the uniform was put in the suitcase and I left and came home. End of that story.
[recording paused]
Right. As I trained as a navigator in the RAF we automatically got what at that time was called a second class navigator’s licence. A civil licence. Like a driving licence. But in order to work in civil aviation like in BOAC or any of the airlines you had to have a first class navigator’s licence. For that you had to go up to London and sit an exam. And in 1947 the winter was very harsh and so I went up to London and stayed in a grotty hotel and sat the exam in my RAF great coat. In a, you know [laughs] Fortunately passed and got a first class thing. Of course one of the things I was able to do was sort of mental arithmetic and things which helped a lot and I got a job with BOAC as it was then and we were based at Hurn. So you went down to Hurn. You were born that winter.
CO: Yes [unclear] cold.
JO: My son was born that winter. We went down to Hurn and we flew from Hurn which was BOAC’s base. London Heathrow didn’t exist. Although there was an airfield there they were, there was tented accommodation for passengers, looking after the passengers. And the aeroplanes were mostly Yorks or converted Lancasters into Lancastrians. And the Lancastrian was a very nice aeroplane in many ways. It had the odd thing of thirteen passengers sitting sideways. One steward and a crew of four I think it was and we flew down to Sydney stopping in Cairo and Delhi and Karachi and Rangoon and all the places on the way. And there was a film made, and I’ve talked to Chris about this, called, “Seventy two hours to Sydney,” which is what the Lancastrian actually did. Three days to Sydney. And we’ve never been able to find it.
CO: No. I’ve searched online. I can’t find it.
JO: And I’m sure it was made for BOAC. Anyway, somebody might turn it up one day. But they wanted to post me to Sydney on flying boats. I did short trips on flying boats. You had to take a special exam because a flying boat when it lands becomes subject to the Admiralty rules and regulations so you have to learn about lights and buoys and all sorts of things. Anyway, they wouldn’t post me down there permanently so I said rather rashly, oh well, goodbye and left BOAC and took a job with Bristol where the flying schools were continuing after the war. Reserved flying schools that is. For the RAF. I got a job there teaching navigation and we had Ansons and Tiger Moths and various other odd aeroplanes. I think we had an Oxford as well. And one Sunday morning we went into work and they said the flying school is shut. It closed down like that. Without warning. We were given a month’s notice and that was it. Now, you couldn’t imagine that happening today but this is in 1949. And so I thought oh I’d better look for another job. But fortunately they had an order for about a hundred Bristol freighters and they were farming out the delivery of the freighters. And they said well if we’ve got a navigator we’ve got pilots. We’ll deliver them ourselves. And so I sort of fell into a job by sheer luck. And I stayed with them navigating and eventually got a pilot’s licence and flew with them until what was it? 1972, when I sort of retired from flying and took a job as a project manager for developing something called tracked Rapier. The Rapier missile system defends airfields and this was a Rapier missile system developed for Iran on a, an American tank as it were. And unfortunately before it could be properly developed the Shah was deposed and so we had to go and do something else. Anyway, we, I was in, involved in Rapier development until I retired. End of story really.
[recording paused]
JO: I managed to fly in some unusual aircraft. I flew in an aircraft called the Buckmaster which was a two seater trainer for the Brigand. And in the bomb bay of the Buckmaster was fitted a very large combustion heater which was intended to heat the Brabazon. I think it was something, a colossal, like four hundred thousand BTHU. It was a dirty great cylinder. Excuse the word but it was a huge thing and when it lit you heard it. It went vroom. And you know you were sitting with headphones. We did several flights with that because it had to, they didn’t want to start it up on the ground. It had to ignite when you were at altitude to provide heat for the Brabazon which was a vast interior. That was an interesting aeroplane. I had a flight in the Brabazon itself. Took a couple of flights in a Brabazon. We did stalls. It was the most gentle stalling aircraft I ever flew in. It just sort of sighed and went down at about ninety five knots. It just went [unclear] like that. Very gentle. And that was interesting. And then I got involved in delivering freighters. They lost a couple of freighters. The crews did. One was, went down in the Lyme Bay when they were doing single engine climbs and nobody could explain it although there was a sailor on the conning tower of a submarine said he saw something fall off. But that was as much as we had. And then there was a nasty Avro Tudor aircrash at Llandow in Wales. And there was a freighter airborne doing the same thing and the chap went over to have a look at the crash site. And then he did a single engine climb and the tail, the fin collapsed. And of course the thing spins in then and they knew what it was. And they also lost freighters, a couple of freighters when the wing skin fell off. The top, the top wing skin. When they were taken out to Africa to fly, very bumpy conditions and the wings are flexing the rivets fatigued and eventually like undoing a stitch they undid. And then the thing did that. And they lost a couple like that. But all these things are taken care of, hopefully, in modern aeroplanes. We hope.
CO: Yeah.
JO: And then I, we did a lot of work on the Britannia. Chris just reminded me of one we did. We, it had engine trouble because the engines in the Britannia had jet engines, turbo props. But there’s something called reverse flow and the air comes in the wrong end and goes around and comes back out the back. And they used to ice up in certain conditions. If you were flying in cloud like well there wasn’t any and there was some thin cloud earlier. And the Met people, we’d asked the Met office how much water content was for cubic metre so that we could calculate, our boys could calculate how much heat was in the ice to get rid of it. And the Met people said, I’ve forgotten the numbers now but it was something if they might have said say a hundred grams per cubic metre and when we went out there and actually measured it and we had devices for catching the stuff it was nearly four times as much. So the amount of heat you had to put in of course goes up proportionately. And eventually we solved the problem but BOAC by then were concerned with having their 707s and the Britannia never really made it. The air force used it a lot and it was put to very good use for the air force. We, we did all sorts of strange things. We had one in Rangoon which overran the runway and it broke at the front passenger door. A big crack right around. And we took him, a chap out there, what’s the name? King wasn’t it? Harold King. Was it?
CO: I don’t know.
JO: Anyway, we took, we took one of our engineers who was renowned for sort of, what you might call make do and mend jobs and we bolted a lot of dexion. You know what dexion is, you know the punch hole thing around the cockpit to support it? Flew back unpressurised about ten thousand feet using thousands of gallons of fuel. Brought it back to Filton where it was repaired. But interesting.
CO: Yeah.
JO: I think that about the end for me. Any more?
CO: Howard Hughes.
JO: I can’t think of anything else.
CO: You flew with Howard Hughes, I think.
JO: Oh yes. I flew with Howard Hughes. Yes. Yes. That was interesting too. We took a Britannia out to, I think we took it to Ottawa. I’d probably find it in my logbook. And we were told Howard Hughes wanted to fly it because he was looking for it for Transworld Airlines and we were parked on the parking bay in the airport. It was the evening time and suddenly a convoy of very posh American shiny cars comes up to the passenger’s steps and parks there. Nothing much happened and a dirty old Ford came and it was filthy. Came and parked by the crew’s steps. One man got out in a shabby old suit wearing sandals and a hat and came up the front steps and said, ‘I’m Howard Hughes. I’m going to fly this aeroplane.’ And he took his shoes off and he got in the aeroplane and off we went and we flew for, I don’t know, an hour, an hour and a half and came back. He was a very good pilot. He really put it through its paces. And he wanted to buy eighty of these aeroplanes. And since we could only make twelve a year it was a fairly forlorn hope. And of course they then bought the Lockheed Electra. But he tried it twice, the Britannia. And he preferred it but we couldn’t make it. So there you are.
[recording paused]
JO: Yeah. We had our regular crew, regular ground crew and regular aircraft which was in the picture there. KO X. And that year the Derby winner was a horse called Tehran and so we called the Lancaster Tehran. I think we had a, I can’t remember whether we had a horse painted on but it was something like that. But when we were with the Pathfinders we didn’t always get the same aircraft. But at Witchford we, we did most of our ops in that. You got used to it you know. They were, they were assembled in different places and they were all slightly different because they were made of parts which were, came from all over the country. And we certainly liked that one and it was a lucky one for us. Can’t tell you any more really.
[recording paused]
JO: Johnny Boden was the pilot and he was the old man. He was twenty four and he’d been in the air force longer than the rest of us. And he’d been training, flying a Wellington and he’d been not exactly demoted but been prevented from being promoted because he’d done some low flying and he hit a, had hit a telegraph pole with the wing of the Wellington and apparently came back to the station, this is a story we heard, with three feet of telegraph pole embedded in the wing. And for that he was not allowed to be promoted and it set back his, he would have been normally commissioned at that, at that age. And he was a great character. He, at the end of the war he took a civil pilot’s licence and flew for Scandi Scandinavian airlines and I think if you look him up on the internet you’ll find there was an incident in Rome where they had a fire on and he succeeded rather well in looking after the aeroplane. But the rest of the crew we were under twenty. Now, can you imagine today where they keep people in school until their eighteen letting them loose on a multi-million pound aeroplane? You know. It’s very strange. And they all came from different parts of the country. So Tommy Lapin was an Irishman from Belfast. Charlie Shepherd was from London. He’s the, he was the mid-upper gunner. Charlie Sergeant was from Abertillery where he still lives. Ken Ackland was from Bridgwater just down the road and I knew him after the war. And who else have we got? Me. With hair [laughs] And where are we? Just trying to look at the thing. I was, have I said oh Al Gilfoyle was a Canadian, from Toronto. And he came over after the war to visit Ken Ackland and we met. And I think that’s all of us isn’t it? Yes. That’s all of us. Ken Ackland sadly died quite a long time ago. I don’t know what happened to Al Gilfoyle . I’m told Charlie Shepherd died. I only knew recently. Chris found out. Died of cancer shortly after the war.
CO: Not Charlie Shepherd. You’ve got. Oh yes. You’re right. Sorry.
JO: Shepherd. Shepherd.
CO: I’m getting confused.
JO: Yeah. Shepherd.
CO: Yes.
JO: London. Cancer.
CO: He died.
JO: Yeah.
CO: The other one is still with us.
JO: And Charlie Sergeant is still alive and Chris is in contact. And we’re sort of indirectly contact. And Tommy Lapin we’ve, he disappeared. We don’t quite know. It’s possible. He could have survived but we don’t know do we?
CO: No.
JO: And Johnny Boden. Well, we don’t know. He was much older. Of course he was three years older. Which doesn’t sound much today but when you’re old it’s a lot. And so I don’t know what happened to him. So that’s all the crew.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with John Alan Ottewell
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Denise Boneham
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-12-30
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AOttewellJA161230
Conforms To
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Pending review
Format
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00:34:27 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
John Ottewell was a member of the Air Defence Cadet Corps and volunteered for the RAF when he was eighteen. While undertaking initial training he was present when a Fw 190 attacked the town of Babbacombe. He took part in the clean-up at the church where twenty four people had died. After training he flew a tour of operations as a navigator from RAF Witchford before going on to a second tour with Pathfinders from RAF Oakington. Flew twenty nine operations on the same Lancaster, named after a racehorse, and remembers some of them: over Northern France in support of the invasion; a nine hour flight to Stettin; being hit by anti-aircraft fire over Kiel. Recounts being assigned to the Pathfinder force and then joining the Tiger Force. Mentions a Mosquito squadron at Oakington trained to drop bombs inside tunnels. Tells of his life after the war, working in civilian aviation, teaching navigation in flying schools, then developing missile systems and gives a detailed account of an encounter with Howard Hughes. Describes his fellow crew members. After the war he had the opportunity to fly in a number of aircraft including the Britannia and Buckmaster.
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Peter Schulze
Spatial Coverage
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France
Great Britain
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Devon
England--Norfolk
Temporal Coverage
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1944
7 Squadron
aircrew
bombing
Fw 190
H2S
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancastrian
Mosquito
navigator
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Pathfinders
RAF Feltwell
RAF Oakington
RAF Witchford
Stirling
Tiger force
training
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/978/11389/AMarshallJ180116.1.mp3
937541350d7b0cdb88fee6af6c8323f8
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Marshall, Jack
J Marshall
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Flying Officer Jack Marshall DFC (b.1920, 391865 Royal New Zealand Air Force). He flew operations as an air gunner with 115 and 7 Squadron Pathfinders.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-01-16
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Marshall, J
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
GT: This is Tuesday, the 16th of January 2018, and I am at the home of Mr. Jack Marshall, born 1st August 1920 in London, England. RNZAF air gunner, NZ391865, flying officer in Christchurch, New Zealand. Jack joined the RNZAF in 1939, trained as an air gunner in Levin, New Zealand, and he completed a tour of ops on 115 Squadron in Wellingtons, and another tour on 7 Squadron PFF in Stirlings as a tail gunner. Jack was awarded the DFC in 1943, and returned to New Zealand in November 1943. Jack has completed numerous interviews, and they feature on the internet and his story is widely told. Thank you Jack, thank you for allowing me to come and have a chat with you
JM: It’s a pleasure.
GT: And would you, would you please give us some- A little bit of background of you joining in the RNZAF here in New Zealand, of course you being from England?
JM: I came out to New Zealand in 1937, and we, we’d landed up in Napier, and in those- At that age it was very difficult to find a job, but I finished up with the gentleman’s club in Napier as a steward, and I was only there a couple of years when they war broke, that was from ‘37 to ‘39, and when I could see there was definitely going to be a war, I decided to rush up the street and join the local- Join the air force. We went into Levin in [unclear] just before Christmas, about Nov- Sometime in November ‘39, we took off on the ship for England, I think either late January, early February. We arrived in- I don’t know what time we arrived in England, and we went to a place called Uxbridge where we did all our foot slogging and where they got asked colonial interline[?], and then from there we were, we were sent to our OTU’s, operational training units, where we had our basic training, learning how to strip a Browning gun down and put it together again, that sort of thing, and then finally we were, we were set off to our squadrons. I finished up with 115 Squadron in Marham, in Norfolk, and did my first tour there. I’m not quite sure just how many trips I did from Marham but, after completing my tour out from Marham, I then went to OTU at Bassingbourn, did a stretch there as a, as an instructor, and then went on back onto ops with 7 Squadron, just out of Oakington, that’s in Cambridgeshire, and I did the rest of my trips, which finally amounted to forty-six. There you are, why did we survive forty-six? No, I have no idea [chuckles]. Some went down on their first trip, amazing.
GT: And for the Wellingtons, for the tour on the Wellingtons there, you, you- Have you mentioned to me a very famous- The chap Fraser Barron.
JM: Oh, no that was on my second tour, Stirlings. That’s Fraser Barron, yes, he’s a wonderful guy, a wonderful pilot, and we had a wonderful navigator. Possibly one- Two reasons why we survived [chuckles].
GT: And unfortunately, though he was, he was killed in the air, I believe you said?
JM: Fraser unfortunately was on a trip over Le Mans in France after the second front, and he- Very unfortunately he collided with one of our own aircraft, and I believe it was from our squadron, and the two of them blew up, and I would say there was very, very little left of them, and my wife and I were in France in 2002, and we visited the grave and I have a strong feeling that there was very little in the grave, after such an explosion as that. Anyway, we paid our respects to Fraser.
GT: Brilliant. So, the tour for- You did with 115, was there anything special that you- That happened on your trips there?
JM: Yes, we had one or two hairy, hairy days. One of them was a trip to Genoa in Italy, we did three in a row to Genoa, and on one of them, we- Approaching the alps on the way out, we iced up very badly and Fraser the skipper, said- Talking to Bob the navigator and he said, ‘Bob’, he said, ‘We’re not going to get over the alps’, he said, ‘We’re icing up to badly’. So he said, ‘Well, looks as if we’re going to have to turn round and go home’. Bob pipes up and said, ‘No, well if we can’t go over the alps’, he said, ‘We’ll go through them’, and I’m sitting in the tower thinking, go through them, what’s he talking about? Anyway, he knew exactly where we were, he knew exactly where this big pass was, and we motored up alongside the alps for, I don’t know, probably fifteen or twenty minutes, something like that, and finally found this pass, a huge pass, and I always remember it because way up high on the left-hand side of the pass was this floodlit building, which obviously was a monastery, they were just letting us know that it wasn’t a fortification. So anyway, we got to Genoa, we did our bombing in the shipping in the harbour there, and of course without the bomb, bomb load we were able to come back over the alps this time, and we arrived back at our base and we found that we were the only aircraft in the air that- Anywhere near our base, we got immediate permission to land, and as we touched down, the tail went back down, three of the engines cut on us [chuckles] and- Which obviously we would never- We- If we hadn’t made a decent landing, we’d never have made it. Next morning, we were talking to the ground crew and they- We- They said to us that we had- They reckoned we had about three or four minutes fuel left. So, if we hadn’t made a decent landing, we certainly would never have got round for another one [chuckles].
GT: Astonishing, and you had an incident of a night fighter attacking you that-
JM: Ah yes. We were attacked by two air- Two fighters. The first was a Junkers 88, and he came in with a long burst and disappeared completely, we didn’t see him again. Second one came in was a 109, and he also gave us a very long burst as he came in underneath, which was their, their usual method of attack. He disappeared for a few- A minute or two, and then next minute I'm watching out for him and in the meantime, I find that my turret wouldn’t operate and me guns wouldn’t operate, he’d obviously severed out hydraulics and there he was at the dead stern of me, large as life, and I thought Jack, this is it, you’ve had it this time, and all of a sudden he just peeled off and disappeared, and the only thing we can think, or I can think, is that he had given us such a long burst, and been in combat before us and then when he came in dead as stern of us he had nothing left. How lucky can you be? [Chuckles]
GT: Very lucky indeed. You- Did you have a choice to be an air gunner, or was that what you went into to achieve?
JM: The reason I became an air gunner was they, they needed more air gunners than they do pilots for a start, or navigators, and they were short of gunners and they asked for volunteers, they put a notice on the board calling for us to volunteer to be gunners. So, I thought, why not? [Chuckles]
GT: You were awarded your DFC for you work? What were you awarded your DFC particularly for?
JM: That’s a good question. I, I’ve never really fully understood that, except that I was lucky enough to survive forty-six, and also, I volunteered for the last one, I- Actually I had- I really finished with forty-five, but they had an aircraft on the tarmac with a full crew except a gunner, and they asked me if I'd volunteer and I did, I volunteered the forty-sixth trip. So, whether that had anything to do with it, I don’t know. But I had someone approach me, not so long ago at the, at the village here and he said, ‘By the way’, he said, ‘Not many gunners got the DFC, did they?’, and being honest I had never even thought about it.
GT: Well, I have the citation for your DFC, it’s dated 12th April 1943, from 7 PFF Squadron, RAF Stirlings, ‘This officer has at all times displayed a keenness and desire to engage the enemy which is most praiseworthy. His dependability and conscience, completion of his duties render him a valuable member of aircrew. Throughout a long and successful operational career, he has set a high standard of reliability and enthusiasm’. So, you obviously well deserved the award, for sure.
JM: Fair enough [chuckles]. Well, they thought so.
GT: Now you also were shot down and spent some time in the water you tell me?
JM: Oh, that was on the first tour with Wellingtons. We’d been to Berlin, on the way back we were, we were south of- Somewhere south of Hamburg, and we got, we got hit, and we’d lost the port engine I think it was, and- Anyway, we struggled on and we got forty miles off Great Yarmouth and we finally had to ditch. Before that as we got- Reached the Dutch coast, we cruised on down to Dutch coast with the idea of landing on the beach- On the beach there, but we didn’t like the idea of the gunning placements, of the concrete embarkments, or the barbed wire and what have you. So, we decided to try and get home, we knew weren’t going to make it, but we thought we might get near enough to the English shore to be picked up in a hurry. Anyway, we got forty miles off Great Yarmouth, so we finally ditched the aircraft. Fortunately, the skipper made a perfect sea landing, which is not always easy, and it was a heavy swell at the time, so he’d- His timing was perfect. We made a very good landing, the aircraft filled full of water straight away, and I went out through the astrodome, the others went out through the front cockpit, and when I got out, the dinghy was floating away from the, the aircraft and I walked across the wing and I realised that there’s a possibility that the dinghy was going to be washed well away from me, so I thought well here goes, so I, I jumped straight into the water and fortunately the dinghy came back onto me and they- The boys grabbed me by the shoulders and hauled me into the dinghy. So that was the beginning of it. So, during the [unclear] in the dinghy, a Wellington came out, evidently vectored to us from, from the base, came out and had a look at us, we fired a very cart at him just to make sure he, he had seen us. He circled us for- Probably for forty, fifty minutes, or maybe an hour and then he disappeared and another one took his place, and this went on during the day. Were sometimes quite long periods between visits, and then finally at the end of the fifteenth or sixteenth hour, the HMT Pelton. a trawler, a fishing trawler- These fishing trawlers that normally, in peacetime of course, did fishing trips, they weren’t able to do this during the war, so they used them for mine laying, they used to drop these magnetic mines over in the [unclear] area and this one, HMT Pelton, was vectored onto us from the base and they finally drew up alongside of us, much to our relief, and I can remember the- These couple of burly sailors leaning over the side of the ship, grabbing me by the shoulders and hauling me over onto the deck like a wet fish, and we just lay there because we’d completely lost the use of our legs, and they were very, very good to us they- I remember they put a rope round our- Round us, and they lowered us down a very steep companionway into the engine room, and they got us a bucket of water each, which was steam heated and we stripped right off and poured this bucket of water all over us and washed all the salt, urine and what have you off us, and then they brought us pyjamas which must’ve been theirs and they tucked us up in their bunks and next, next thing we’re all fast asleep, I went off like a light. And next thing is, we arrive in Great Yarmouth alongside the wharf there- Oh, during the, during the night, a royal air force rescue launch came tearing out and wanted to take us on board and take us back to base, and the skipper, due to the heavy swell refused to, to do a transfer. So we were left alone until we got into, into Great Yarmouth. From there we were taken into the naval sick quarters and- Where we were given us a meal and another lot of pyjamas and we were tucked up for the night, in the hospital. Next morning, we were given breakfast and the truck arrived for- Pick us up from the base and we all climbed aboard the truck and went back to our base. That was the end of that [chuckles]. Incidentally, the dinghy was lying on the wharf, and I don’t know where I got the knife from, but I got a hold of a knife from somewhere, and I cut myself out a souvenir out of the dinghy, because it actually got punctured while we were trying to get it away from the aircraft it- We, we lost the outer skin, fortunately we did have two skins, an inner and outer, reason for that was because we had an old dinghy and evidently all the new dinghies were single skin, and I have a letter from the Irving[?] people that made the dinghies, I have a letter from them congratulating on our survival and being so lucky to have had an, an old dinghy [chuckles].
GT: So that claims you for a member of the goldfish club?
JM: That’s right, made us a member of the goldfish club.
GT: Fascinating, fascinating for the- Your survival, and did you have a crew of five or six at the time?
JM: Seven, oh sorry, no, no, si- Wellington, we had-
GT: Did you have a second dicky? Or a second pilot?
JM: No, we had five, I think. Used to have six, we used to carry two pilots but they dropped the second pilot. Losing too many.
GT: I only asked that ‘cause there’s a comment there about- That was 15th of November 1940-
JM: That’s right.
GT: - on 115 Squadron, Wellington, and when returning from a raid on Berlin, you and the crew, except the second pilot, were picked up by Her Majesty’s trawler Pelton at about eighteen-hundred hours. During his rest tour, you were an instructor on 11 OTU, which was in Wellingtons and 11 OTU was Westcott?
JM: That’s right, it was, it was while we’re on the OTU that we did those two-thousand bomber raids. I did Cologne and Essen.
GT: So, were they included in your, your log books as operations, official ops?
JM: Yes, yeah, matter of fact I did three, Cologne, Essen, and Bremen.
GT: So effectively you flew in three units?
JM: Yeah, that’s the bomber- Thousand bomber raids. That was an extreme effort on the part of the RAF, they, they were using OTU aircraft as well as normal squadron aircraft
GT: So, were the rest of your crew qualified personnel? Or were they-
JM: No, they were all-
GT: Students?
JM: They were all green horns like me.
GT: Yeah.
JM: [Chuckles] But I wasn’t-
GT: You’d done a tour.
JM: At that time, I was on my- In between my two tours, I was instructor.
GT: Fabulous. So, did- Did you have any reservations, was- The war was in full flight at that time and, did-
JM: About survival you mean?
GT: Yeah, yeah.
JM: No, I, I schooled myself not to even contemplate the idea of it. I just- From that angle I went blank, and I never ever thought that I wouldn’t survive, never crossed my mind that I wouldn’t survive, that was the only way to get though.
GT: Were there any chaps that you recall that didn’t want to fly again?
JM: I don’t doubt there were quite a few that perhaps after their first tour pulled out. I could’ve pulled out, after the ditching I could've pulled out too, I could’ve- What was it? The lack of moral fibre?
GT: LMF.
JM: I would’ve been accused of that, I would’ve been- I'd have gone as an instructor for the rest of the war. But I didn’t, I, I went back into PFF.
GT: So, you asked for the PFF role?
JM: Yes, I did. Actually, it was quite funny how that happened, they were queuing up- Crewing up for PFF and I approached a Wing Commander Olsen, I rather looked- Liked the look of him, big fella. He became the, he became the com- Chief of air staff in New Zealand for a while. Anyway, he said, ‘Ah, I’m sorry’, he said, ‘I’ve got a full crew’, but he said, ‘I believe that fella over there, Fraser Barron he’s looking for a gunner I believe'. So, I said, ‘Oh thanks’, and I tore across the Fraser and I said, ‘Believe you’re looking for a tail gunner’, he said, ‘Yes’, I said, ‘Well you’ve got one’ [laughs].
GT: He had to accept you then, yeah.
JM: Yeah, we got on very well together anyway, we were the only two Kiwi’s on the aircraft actually. So, we got on very well, used to go into town with and- I always remember when he got his DSO, he- Well he had- Already had his DFM and DFC up, and he was very modest sort of a guy and he got- He wanted me to go into town with him ‘cause he was so embarrassed [laughs].
GT: So did you, did you like the Stirling?
JM: Yes, loved it. It’s a very nice aircraft. It lacked a bit of speed in comparison to the Lancaster, but- And it- I believe the Lanc carried a much- Quite a bit bigger bomb load. Also, it had larger wings, strange to say. But-
GT: Could they have made the Stirling better?
JM: It was better all round, yes.
GT: It was better than the Lancaster?
JM: Oh sorry, no, the Lancaster. The Lancaster was better all round, although I never flew in one, but I’m just going on information.
GT: And you, you left 7 Squadron just as the Lancasters were coming in?
JM: The first two arrived the day I pulled out, and I, I rushed down to have a quick look through one, and I had to be quick ‘cause there was a truck waiting for me to take me to the railway station [chuckles], I was going down to Leigh-on-Sea to join my wife.
GT: So they were pretty keen to, to- Once you’d finished your second tour to send you back to New Zealand, were they? Or did you stay in the UK for a while?
JM: No, we- I'd just done what you might call embarkation leave, and- One of the things I've never understood, why I got married while the war was on, it was a stupid thing to do and I’m surprised her father allowed us to, but he did [laughs]. Anyway, she was a wonderful, wonderful person my wife, we had seventy-three years together.
GT: Wonderful.
JM: Yeah, fantastic, very clever too, very, very talented.
GT: And you, you came back to New Zealand and where did you, you start from there? Nelson, Christchurch? Where did you move?
JM: Nelson.
GT: And you had a family?
JM: Actually my, my brother had a biscuit business in Nelson which unfortunately went, went bung eventually, but I was supposed to join him in the biscuit manufacturing business, but that never happened [chuckles].
GT: And you’ve had, your family obviously now since then, sons, daughters?
JM: Yeah, we’ve got a son and twin daughters, yes. Tony is, I think, seventy-three, seventy-two or seventy-three, and the girls- He's seventy-two I think, the girls are sixty-eight. Twin, twin girls [chuckles] yeah.
GT: Fabulous, so you, you’ve been telling me you’ve been interviewed a lot for your, your wartime exploits.
JM: Yes, I have, yes, I have.
GT: Who has interviewed you then? Newspapers, or television?
JM: Books and magazines mostly, I’ll show them to you.
GT: Yep certainly, and that’s why for the purpose of our interview here, Jake, your story has obviously been well documented, so we’re going to refer the International Bomber Command Centre to your- The interviews and the stories that have been said to you, which will give in a lot more detail your, your time with, particularly the RAF and the RNZAF, so that’s, that’s fascinating for us to know. Now, as far as your time military wise, was, was there anything you thought that they could’ve done better? Or, they were dealing with the best they could, with what they were given?
JM: No not really, we were well- We were reasonably well fed, I mean, not large meals but we had, you know, bacon and eggs, and that sort of thing which the civilians got very little of, if any. We were looked after with cigarettes and chocolates and things like that. They were very good. They gave us Horlicks tablets to suck on trips, and that kind of thing, you know? We were looked after, and I, I’d like to put this in too, that I think the New Zealand government have been wonderful to me since I came out. They’ve been really wonderful.
GT: You emigrated at the age of seventeen, went back to Blighty, fought in the war, come back to New Zealand and have had a wonderful life time here.
JM: Yeah.
GT: Fabulous.
JM: I have had a wonderful life, yeah. The three kids are wonderful, they’ve all done very, very well in life. No, they’re not waiting for my departure that’s for sure [laughs].
GT: And your next birthday, the 1st of August, how old will you be?
JM: Sorry?
GT: And on your next birthday, how old will you be?
JM: Ninety-eight.
GT: And I'm sure your- The folk who know you are very proud and pleased to know you, as a ninety-seven-year-old, you’re still very much able, and a driver [emphasis], you’ve just shown me that you’re an excellent driver by the automobile associations.
JM: [Laughs] I’m happier behind the wheel that I am on my legs actually. My legs are getting a little bit crotchety but no, I’m very happy behind the wheel of a car and-
GT: Fabulous.
JM: I think partly- That partly is due to the fact that I used to have a taxi business, I had a taxi business for about twelve years, so I've done a fair mileage [chuckles].
GT: Yeah, well that’s, that’s very pleasing to know, and so-
JM: Love it, prior to that, I was a company representative, used to cover the whole of the South Island [chuckles].
GT: So, you’ve driven much, much mileage.
JM: So, I've done a lot, a big, big mileage.
GT: The roads here in New Zealand aren’t particularly good for long distance driving at times.
JM: [Laughs] Yeah.
GT: Well, Jack I’m, I’m going to finish our interview here and then, then we’ll look at listing the material and the other interviews that you’ve been able to be a part of and publish, or have published on your behalf. So, I'm very grateful for you to- By appointment to meet me today in your home, your lovely place, and I will package this up for the IBCC and they will be very grateful to have your history, your time and your experiences of two tours ‘cause your sacrifice for your King and your countries [emphasis] pretty much was awesome, and I thank you for your service. Thank you, sir.
JM: You’re welcome.
GT: Ok, great, thank you then, bye-bye.
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
Interview with Jack Marshall
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Glen Turner
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-01-16
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Sound
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
AMarshallJ180116
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
00:28:26 audio recording
Language
A language of the resource
eng
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 New Zealand Air Force
Description
An account of the resource
Jack went to New Zealand in 1937 and became a steward in a gentleman’s club in Napier, where he stayed two years until the war broke out. He joined the Royal Air Force and went to England where he did train at RAF Uxbridge to become an air gunner. With 115 Squadron he went to Operational Training Unit at RAF Marham and RAF Bassingbourn, where he spent time as an instructor. The squadron did three operations to Italy and on one occasion the Wellington aircraft iced up so badly that they went through the Alps at low attitude, rather than over. On landing, three engines cut out, with only three- or four-minute fuel left. Jack recalled two other incidents. One when they were attacked by two fighters and the other when their Wellington was shot down on the way back from Berlin. They lost an engine 40 miles off Great Yarmouth and had to escape in the dinghy before being rescued by a fishing trawler. The crew became members of the Goldfish Club. The crew were posted to RAF Oakington in where they joined 7 Squadron, carrying out 46 operations in Stirlings. Jack volunteered for the Pathfinder Force as a rear gunner. After the war Jack returned to New Zealand. Jack was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for a long and high standard of reliability and enthusiasm.
Contributor
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Sue Smith
Tilly Foster
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--London
England--Norfolk
England--Cambridgeshire
Germany
Germany--Berlin
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Italy
Alps
New Zealand
England--Great Yarmouth
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940-11-15
1943-04-12
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending revision of OH transcription
11 OTU
115 Squadron
7 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bombing
bombing of Cologne (30/31 May 1942)
Distinguished Flying Cross
ditching
Goldfish Club
Lancaster
military service conditions
Operational Training Unit
Pathfinders
RAF Bassingbourn
RAF Marham
RAF Oakington
RAF Uxbridge
Stirling
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1017/11306/AThompsonPJ181122.2.mp3
834e0550a7742e0ac812eae3e9300d18
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
Thompson, Frederick Denzil James
F D J Thompson
Description
An account of the resource
Five items. An oral history interview with Peter Thompson (b. 1933) about his uncle, Flight Lieutenant Frederick Denzil James Thompson DFC. Fred Thompson flew operations with Hamish Mahaddie. Collection also includes a photograph, correspondence and newspaper cuttings. <br /><br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Peter Thompson and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. <br /><br />Additional information on Frederick Denzil James Thompson is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/227942/">IBCC Losses Database</a>.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2018-07-07
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Thompson, FDJ
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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This interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre. The interviewee is David Meanwell, the sorry, the interviewer is David Meanwell, the interviewee is Peter Thompson who is going to be talking mainly about his uncle, Fred Thompson, who was in Bomber Command. The interview is taking place at Mr Thompson’s home, in Croydon today, the 22nd of November 2018. Right Peter, perhaps if you could start off just say a bit of introduction about yourself, and then what you, perhaps start off with your personal recollections of Fred and then get on to his career.
PT: Right. That’s right. My name is Peter John Thompson and I am talking really about my uncle, Frederick, or uncle Fred. His full name is [cuckoo clock] Frederick cuckoo [laughter] – sorry about the cuckoo clock! -his full name is Frederick Denzel James Thompson and Fred and, he’s the second son of Walter Henry Thompson. My grandfather was Winston Churchill’s bodyguard throughout the whole of the war, and there were five children, basically. My father was the first one, Harold, Fred was second and Harvey was third, and then there were two sisters, Grace and Cathleen, much younger. Now, I, at the beginning of the war, 1939, I was six years old, but I can remember quite clearly Uncle Fred. Uncle Fred was in the Metropolitan Police, he was CID, Special Branch. And he had really a reserved occupation, and he worked in the East End of London, in the dock area, looking for aliens and spies etc. So he had quite an important job there. Now, my memory of uncle Fred, was when I was about three, Fred would have been about seventeen, he had a cage in the garden, with budgies in it. He used to take me into the cage with him and with all these budgies around, and he was very quiet, serious chap. And anyway, he’s, he was a really nice chap, very reliable. Grandad was a Victorian type of man, very severe, very good at his job as a bodyguard I might say, and quite brave, but very severe, and my dad used to say that he used to be frightened of him, so that gives you the set up. When the, in 1936, Fred decided that he would join the Met and he didn’t want to know, anybody to know that he was the son of Walter, his father, so he made his own way there. Now the thing is that Fred was a very reliable chap. When the war came, my dad joined up or he volunteered, and a little while later, when the war, about 1941 ’42, grandad, who had quite a deep [emphasis] relationship with Churchill, was talking to him about his sons and Churchill said to him, well I’d like to meet them. So my dad said well Harvey was out in South Africa at the time, but Fred came along, and this is a, a defining moment for Fred. When my dad and Fred met Churchill, my dad was in uniform, in a RAF uniform, but Fred was in civvies, and Churchill turned upon Fred and said ‘Why haven’t you signed up? Why aren’t you doing your bit? All the other lads in the front line.’ And this really hurt Fred. My dad said he was really upset and he immediately went and volunteered for aircrew. That was quite an important point for Fred. Anyway, he was trained as an Observer, or navigator and he joined the Pathfinder Group at Oakington, and he was on, flying Short Stirlings. The pilot was Wing Commander Mahaddie, and this chap was very well known, and it’s something unusual about the group: because the whole crew maintained right the way through, they did forty missions, the whole crew just stayed together, very unusual and most of the men were married, with families. Now Fred, he got two DFCs. They, of the forty missions he did, a lot of them were right, er, into far into, deep in Germany, obviously went Cologne, Berlin, but he also flew a lot down to Italy, and they gave this crew some of the most difficult jobs to do. Now the Pathfinders was a very, they, I think they were selected very carefully. The Pathfinder Group was that the aircraft went out first, alone [emphasis] on its own, and it flew somewhere like half an hour, to an hour in front of the main bomber group coming behind and their job obviously was to drop incendiaries and to light up if you like, the target. But they were alone, they didn’t have any cover. So there was a famous, no not, take the word away, one of the times when he got his second DFC, they had, they were, they had a mission to Cologne and on the way back the aircraft was hit by anti-aircraft fire. The cockpit window was completely smashed, the radio equipment was completely smashed and the radio operator was badly injured. The ailerons on the aircraft were severed and the aircraft basically fell out the sky, and it was going down. Mahaddie, the pilot, managed to get the thing on to a, out of this dive, and the flight sergeant, or flight engineer, he actually crawled in to the aircraft fuselage and repair the ailerons. Now the navigation equipment had completely gone, it’s, of course the Pathfinders would be flying at night, and the flight engineer, having got the aircraft working and they lost a couple of engines as well, he attended to the badly injured radio operator, and Fred navigated the aircraft by navigating with the stars. That’s how he did it. And they, the thing is, they got back to Oakington on time and they got there. And so, the evidence is, of a photograph of the crew outside their aircraft and you can see the holes right across the fuselage where all the German canons’ bullets had gone through. And these men were awarded their DFCs, or equivalent ‘cause the lower ranks didn’t get DFCs, so he was awarded his second, his second DFC. So. After the mission to Cologne all the crew were awarded their medals and they were going to go to the palace to meet the King and get their awards, but before they could go, two weeks later a special mission came up to Stuttgart. They, they volunteered, because, for many of them had, were past their operational times, and they all volunteered, but there were two exceptions. The pilot Mahaddie, Group Captain, Wing Commander Mahaddie for some reason couldn’t fly so they had a replacement pilot, and of course the radio operator had been injured was replaced, so they did have two new crew members. [Cough] So anyway they took off this mission. On the way over France, the German radio, radar group picked up the aircraft and they radioed to the German night fighter group and their, this particular German pilot took off. Now the RAF didn’t know a particular thing, that the Germans had discovered some of the secret equipment on the aircraft, on the bombers. The bomber, the aircraft had this equipment called H2S, which was really a ground radar and it was really what we have now, mapping out the underneath, so they could, they could actually fly higher to the target and the bomb aimer could see where the target was whereas previously they would have to be visual. But the only thing is when you put H2S on, it gives out frequencies which is used to get the display up, and the Germans had found a way of locking on to the H2S so they knew that, where the aircraft was to some extent by the signal coming from the H2S. What the Germans also had put in was a special gun in the nose of the aircraft, and the, in front of the pilot and it pointed up, and they had, the Germans had nicknamed it Jazzmusik, jazzmusiker, and what the Germans, night fighter pilots did, they used to fly underneath the bomber and gradually come up underneath. Of course nobody in the aircraft, the air gunner wouldn’t see it, and it’s night time, nobody would, there was nothing to detect anything underneath and they used to fly right underneath and fire straight into the bomb area, bomb area. The aircraft caught fire and it started to come down in flames. The strange thing was, that it was coming down in this little tiny village way out in the French countryside, and the village has high hills round it, and on the top of the hill was the actual radar unit that had picked up the aircraft. The aircraft came in, and I’ve got witness statements here written by people that saw it at the time, it was aflame, and the people at the radar unit fled because they thought the aircraft was going to hit their radar unit and them, but in fact it came down just over. And in this village they had a swamp area, it’s a lake, swampy and they used to use it for people, used to come to fishing. The aircraft exploded and broke up in two parts. The tail end landed one part of the village, with the air gunner still in it. The aircraft hit the water and it exploded and obviously all the crew were killed. Can I stop there for a. Many of the villagers saw this aircraft coming down all on fire, at night. The aircraft nearly missed, only just missed the actual radar unit, German radar unit, that was stationed at, on the top of the hill. Now this unit was the one that detected the aircraft earlier on. It missed the radar unit, the huts, by a few hundred feet or so, and it crashed into a swamp. Now this swamp was a man-made area, loads of reeds and things like that and it was used by people to do fishing. The aircraft literally broke up into bits: a mangled mess of just of metal and four of the member of the crew bodies were floating on the lake. The German Army came and secured the area and wouldn’t allow any of the villagers to come nearby, but the French resistance was very strong in the area, and at night, three chaps went out with shepherds’ hooks and went in to the lake and hooked the bodies out. One of the bodies was Fred’s. They said that they were, the bodies were very, very badly mangled. The Germans’ commander, I think did a, a very unusual thing, I think. He then stated that these men should have a proper military funeral. They wouldn’t allow any of the villagers to come, but they selected some young men to carry the bodies up to this little tiny cemetery. And they dug one grave and they put the four bodies in there. A few days later another body came up and this chap was buried, and then many weeks later the pilot’s body surfaced, and he was buried. So there were three graves really, and that’s the situation. They just put little wooden crosses up with the peoples’ names on. At that time, my grandfather had heard via the Red Cross grapevine that Fred had been killed, and he sent my father a telegram, which I have, saying that Fred had been killed. Now Fred’s wife, who was in the WRNS, then had the job a few weeks’ later of going up to Buckingham Palace to receive her husband’s DFC, his second one, a Bar. When I seen this young girl, in her WRN uniform and she was only about twenty, going up to receive this award, this medal, it must have been heart-breaking. An interesting thing, occurred here, because my grandfather had a very close relationship - it’s an unusual relationship - with Churchill. Churchill valued him tremendously. They had lots of scrapes and he valued grandad because he was very good as a bodyguard, very professional. It’s not the same as you have today. He was the traditional bodyguard where he had a trilby hat a long black coat, and he always had his hand in his right hand pocket with his gun there and all the photographs during the war, wherever they went, you always saw grandad about four paces behind Churchill and he was always, pictures of him looking left right all the time. And he had been Churchill’s bodyguard before the war, when Churchill was in government positions, and they built up this unusual relationship of, of trusting each other. But when grandad heard the news about Fred’s death, he went in to Churchill and he had words with him, and he blamed Churchill for the way he had treated Fred at that meeting years ago, where Fred was so cut to the wick and he gave his job up as a Special Branch detective, to join the RAF. And he said to Churchill, ‘I blame you for my son’s death.’ That’s a funny thing to say to Churchill. Strange thing is, that Churchill said, ‘I accept that.’ And he said Churchill was very, very upset: I’ll face death. Anyway, that day seven men died. The interesting thing when you look at the records, there were eleven other aircraft that night on those, who were all shot down. So for me it’s all about Fred, but that night there were at least eleven, I think it’s eleven [emphasis] aircraft, so if you think about seven men in each aircraft, that was seventy seven men either prisoners of war or killed, all lost their life on that one night. And when you look at Bomber Command, the death rate was very, very high and most [emphasis] of them didn’t do very many missions before they died. So Fred’s group were very unusual having forty missions before they got killed. Anyway, after the war the Commonwealth Graves Commission came into being and they went to this little village and the village is Minacour les menis les halous and it’s a little tiny place, so tiny, only a few hundred people. They went to the village cemetery, which we’ve, I’ve visited; it’s so small, it’s about a hundred yards square and they said these men must have proper graves, and with proper memorials. Then all the bodies were exhumed and each man was put into their own grave. A few years ago my son, sorry my daughter and my son-in-law very kindly said they would take us out to this little village, and they took us out. It’s so quiet, the cemetery’s just on a hill and you go in there, and I stood in front of Fred’s grave, and I just thought, ‘what a mess! What an utter mess this, all these men killed.’ Anyway, the interesting thing is, that there’s a group of people that really wanted to know all about the men that died in Bomber Command, and they did some very interesting work and they found out who the German pilot was, somehow. [Cough] A few years ago, about 2009, my daughter and my son-in-law, Tim, and Sally, asked me would I, we like to go and visit the cemetery where Fred is buried, and we did. They took us out there. And this little tiny village, with just oh, a few houses, and while we were there we – nobody was around - we parked outside, wondering what to do, outside a little farmhouse. A dog started to bark, and a young lad came out, who was about sixteen. Now my French is almost non-existent, and this young lad, his English was also non-existent, so I got out a photograph out of Fred, of young Fred and the site where the crash occurred. This young lad pointed and said, basically wait and he came back, got on his bicycle, and beckoned to us to follow, and we followed for a good half mile, and then he, we got to this area which was swampy, he goes up to a garden gate, big iron gate and unlocks it, it appears his family have owned this area of the swamp for years, went in and we walked around in, on the swamp: it’s almost the same as it was and I just could picture the devastation of this aircraft which was just a mangled mess, looking at the, the lake, looking at the water and realising that all those years ago Fred was floating with his other mates on there, completely dead. It was quite a strange feeling. And then the young lad beckons, and says follow me and we go back to the village and he points up this hill and we realise that is where the cemetery was, and the cemetery really is tiny and we went up, found the graves. My son-in-law had made a special plaque, with Fred’s details on it, and my, he had put my email address at the bottom. A few weeks later I had an email from a group of people who were researching the aircraft and all his, all his crew. I found this very interesting because they came up with some information that they sent me, of the German pilot that had shot the aircraft down. And this was again, a young, German pilot, his name was Hans Karl Kemp, Kamp. He was one of their top fighter pilots and the information we’ve got here he had shot down at least twenty one aircraft and found out that later, a couple of years later he was shot down again, not again, he’s shot down over Germany and was killed himself. They also show, got a picture of the Messerschmitt, Bf110 and you can see clearly [emphasis] this jazzmusiker gun, there, pointing up, and this photograph is actually showing the pilot, Oberleutnant Hans Karl Kamp, and the information down here identifies him as the pilot that shot down Fred’s aircraft, it’s down here from the German records. It’s got all of them here, and Hans Karl Kamp and you can check them all the way down, so that was quite interesting really. But my impression now as an older man, looking at it, and I thought: all these men German and English, just are called up and they do their duty for their country so there was no real difference between Hans Karl Kamp and Fred Denzel James Thompson, except that they must have left a lot of hurt. Kamp’s wife eventually married a, an American airman and then went to America. It’s odd that she marries the enemy. And that’s that. So that is my investigation and journey with my uncle Fred.
DM: Thank you very much Peter. Thank you.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Interview with Peter Thompson
Creator
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David Meanwell
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-11-22
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AThompsonPJ181122
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
Format
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00:32:00 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Second generation
Spatial Coverage
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Germany
Great Britain
England--Cambridgeshire
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
France
France--Minaucourt-le-Mesnil-lès-Hurlus
Description
An account of the resource
Peter Thompson is the nephew of Fred Denzel James Thompson. Fred’s father was Churchill’s bodyguard. In 1936 Fred joined the Metropolitan Police Criminal Investigation Department and, following a meeting with Winston Churchill, volunteered as a navigator, despite being in a reserved occupation.
Fred joined the Pathfinder Group at RAF Oakington, flying Stirlings. The crew were together for over 40 missions. Fred received two Distinguished Flying Crosses (DFC). The second one was awarded following an operation to Cologne when the aircraft was badly hit and Fred successfully guided the aircraft back using celestial navigation.
Before receiving the award at Buckingham Palace, Fred volunteered for a special mission to Stuttgart alongside two new crew members. Unfortunately, their aircraft was struck from below and exploded near the village of Minaucourt-le-Mesnil-lès-Hurlus. The bodies were rescued by the French Resistance but given a military funeral by the German commander. Fred’s father blamed Churchill who apologised, regretting Fred’s death. The Commonwealth Graves Commission organised proper graves and memorials for the aircrew. Peter later visited the cemetery and subsequently found out information about the German pilot who later also lost his life.
Contributor
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Anne-Marie Watson
Sally Coulter
Temporal Coverage
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1936
1943-03-12
aircrew
bale out
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
Distinguished Flying Cross
final resting place
killed in action
Me 110
navigator
Pathfinders
RAF Oakington
Resistance
shot down
Stirling