2
25
205
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1827/33552/NWeedenRC170409-010006.1.jpg
89a884f225d4b92e3d7a75a69367f440
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
Weeden, Reginald Charles
R C Weeden
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
2017-04-09
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
Weeden, RC
Description
An account of the resource
89 items. The collection concerns Reginald Charles Weeden (b. 1922, 1602823, 153661 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, letters, documents, badges, medal ribbons and photographs. He flew operations as a navigator with 75 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Scott Weeden and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Newspaper cutting - another hail of incendiaries
Description
An account of the resource
Photograph of the centre section of an airborne bomber releasing incendiaries and a 4000 lb bomb. Description underneath.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One newspaper cutting with b/w photograph and text
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
NWeedenRC170409-010006
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
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.
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Weeden, Reginald Charles. Duisburg operation
101 Squadron
bombing
incendiary device
Lancaster
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1827/33547/NWeedenRC170409-010001.1.jpg
d0f007c38bf089abffb1f0414ec35fc8
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
Weeden, Reginald Charles
R C Weeden
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
2017-04-09
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
Weeden, RC
Description
An account of the resource
89 items. The collection concerns Reginald Charles Weeden (b. 1922, 1602823, 153661 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, letters, documents, badges, medal ribbons and photographs. He flew operations as a navigator with 75 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Scott Weeden and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Newspaper cutting - gutted Duisburg ruins
Description
An account of the resource
Photograph of airborne Lancaster releasing incendiaries with description of operation against Duisburg.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One newspaper cutting with b/w photograph
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Text
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
NWeedenRC170409-010001
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
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.
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Weeden, Reginald Charles. Duisburg operation
101 Squadron
bombing
incendiary device
Lancaster
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1866/33376/MSmithAC1459147-170607-030001.2.jpg
17b3a1b9258349cbe8657bf3ed4192ac
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1866/33376/MSmithAC1459147-170607-030002.2.jpg
02f538d5393934728fc5ba08f6d3b162
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
Smith, A C
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
Smith, AC
Description
An account of the resource
27 items. The collection concerns Sergeant Allan C Smith (1459147 Royal Air Force) and contains documents, correspondence and photographs. He flew operations as a navigator with 166 Squadron and became a prisoner of war.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by C Smith and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
7/1/43. Watch at 1200 hrs. G.M.T. 8 seconds slow,
Rate of gain 4 secs/24 hrs.
Route LEICESTER – SOUTHWOLD – LIEGE – STUTTGART – LILLE – LIECESTER.
Extract from Met. Winds. – 2,000' 200°/25k. 6,000' – 220°/30k.
10,000' – 230°/40k. Temps. 2,000' +5°C. 6,000' -3°C. 10,000' -12°C.
1825. Airborne BASE
1840. LEICESTER S/C SOUTHWOLD. Hgt. 2,000' climbing to 6,000'.
T.A.S. for climb 130k.
1853 Level out 6,000' T.A.S. 160k a/c SOUTHWOLD.
What is D.R. [indecipherable word] Co(T). (M) & (C). & E.T.A.
1920 SOUTHWOLD S/C LIEGE. Hgt. 6,000' climbing to 10,000'
R.A.S. for climb 117k. What is T.A.S.
1935. Level out at 10,000' a/c LIEGE using met w/v.
T.A.S. 190k. What is Co(T)(M)(C) & E.T.A.
193730 Check course by Astro Compass to be 136°(T).
1938 Loop CAMBRIDGE Scale read 149° Q.Cor. – 7° (Reliable).
1943 Loop DOVER Scale reads 099° Q.Cor. +2° (Rel) FIX?
1949. T.A.S. now 195k.
20-10-41}
20-11-21} DUBHE. Sextant Reading Average 35° 33'. Sex.Con +1'
20-16-46}
20-17-24} ALPHERATZ. Sextant Reading 43° 42' Sex. Con. +2'. FIX
2021 a/c 150° (M)
2028 a/c STUTTGART. W/V 240°/40k. What is T.A.S. to be maintained to reach TARGET at 2120 hrs. & Co (M).
2125 Incendiaries released.
2140. STUTTGART s/c 306(M) T.A.S. 140k Hgt 10,000'
[page break]
2148. Back Bearing of farm 123°(C). Dev. + 2°
2150 a/c 221°(C) Dev. 0°.
2152 Drift 5 1/2° Port
2158 a/c 006°(C) Dev. +2°
2201 Drift 7 1/2° Starboard.
What is W/V?
2204 a/c 299°(C) Dev. 0°. T.A.S. 215k
2211 a/c LILLE. What is Co(T)(M) (C) & E.T.A.
2238 attacked by night fighters a/c 010°(C) Dev +2° TAS 245
2242 a/c 284°(C). Dev 0° T.A.S. 240k.
2248 a/c 242°(C) Dev + 1° T.A.S. 235k.
2257 a/c 317°(C) Dev +1° T.A.S. 190k. Fighters shaken off
2306 Visual FIX? 270° CHARLEROI[?] 8 n.m.
2305 M.F.B. Return SALISBURY.
2310 a/c SALISBURY using Met w/v Hgt 10,000' TAS 190k
What Co(T) (M) (C) & E.T.A.
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
Flight Log to Stuttgart
Description
An account of the resource
An abstract of a flight log to Stuttgart. It contains details of each leg including an attack by night fighters.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943-01-07
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two handwritten sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Service material
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MSmithAC1459147-170607-030001, MSmithAC1459147-170607-030002
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--Leicester
England--Southwold
Belgium--Liège
Germany--Stuttgart
France--Lille
England--Cambridge
England--Dover
France
Germany
Belgium
England--Kent
England--Suffolk
England--Leicestershire
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Sue Smith
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-01-07
aircrew
bombing
incendiary device
navigator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2032/32676/P78Sqn17010016.2.jpg
bfbe3523280d7455b160fb52847cfb2e
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
78 Squadron. Photographs
Description
An account of the resource
Seventy three items. Folder subject submitted by donor. Photographs of aircraft, bombs, aircrew and groundcrew.
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
78 Sqn Info
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
Armourer loading general purpose bomb into Halifax
Description
An account of the resource
An armourer stands guiding a general purpose bomb being hoisted from trolley into the main bomb bay of a Halifax. To the left another airman stands by a another bomb trolley with small bomb containers. A further airman stands on the port upper wing root. Starboard undercarriage door has 'F' on front.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
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
P78Sqn17010016
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
bomb trolley
bombing up
ground personnel
Halifax
incendiary device
service vehicle
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2032/32668/P78Sqn17010008.1.jpg
c402fa2ff0ec9c91df66d53bbddaa2a0
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
78 Squadron. Photographs
Description
An account of the resource
Seventy three items. Folder subject submitted by donor. Photographs of aircraft, bombs, aircrew and groundcrew.
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
78 Sqn Info
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 and bomb trolley underneath a Halifax
Description
An account of the resource
Two airman stand on a bomb trolley with small bomb containers looking up into the starboard wing bomb bay of an aircraft. two airmen stand on the left of the trolley watching.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
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
P78Sqn17010008
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
bomb trolley
bombing up
ground personnel
Halifax
incendiary device
service vehicle
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2032/32667/P78Sqn17010007.2.jpg
a92dfc62f72e5349f19fb50867ef6d43
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
78 Squadron. Photographs
Description
An account of the resource
Seventy three items. Folder subject submitted by donor. Photographs of aircraft, bombs, aircrew and groundcrew.
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
78 Sqn Info
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
Armourers loading small bomb containers and general purpose bombs into a Halifax
Description
An account of the resource
Two bomb trolleys sit underneath aircraft, one with small bomb containers and the other with a general purpose bomb Two airman are working on top of the wing, one stands under the wing bomb bay, one by the small bomb container trolley and another two stand up in the main fuselage bomb bay. The port under carriage has the letters 'F'.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
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
P78Sqn17010007
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
bomb trolley
bombing up
ground personnel
Halifax
incendiary device
service vehicle
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2032/32666/P78Sqn17010006.2.jpg
275dee3119926f483726c74aff444ba4
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
78 Squadron. Photographs
Description
An account of the resource
Seventy three items. Folder subject submitted by donor. Photographs of aircraft, bombs, aircrew and groundcrew.
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
78 Sqn Info
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
Armourers loading small bomb containers
Description
An account of the resource
One airmen guiding a small bomb container, hanging on loading wires leading to under wing bomb bay. Another airman stands by bomb trolley with more small bomb containers. On top of the wing, two airmen are winching up the container while another sits watching.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
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
P78Sqn17010006
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
bomb trolley
bombing up
ground personnel
Halifax
incendiary device
service vehicle
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2032/32665/P78Sqn17010005.2.jpg
9d73564375c3906779bafdad66b7bc6e
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
78 Squadron. Photographs
Description
An account of the resource
Seventy three items. Folder subject submitted by donor. Photographs of aircraft, bombs, aircrew and groundcrew.
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
78 Sqn Info
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
Airmen around a bomb trolley with small bomb containers
Description
An account of the resource
Two airmen pushing, and one guiding, a bomb trolley towards the underneath of a Halifax. A airman wearing battledress with hands in pockets stands on the right watching. Another group of airman stand behind the trolley watching while a further man is walking away on the far left. In the background in the distance a Halifax. In the foreground four bomb carrier racks lie on the ground.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
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
P78Sqn17010005
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
bomb trolley
bombing up
ground personnel
Halifax
incendiary device
service vehicle
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2032/32664/P78Sqn17010004.2.jpg
1e69ebd4b805b4aece0675be1db30b45
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
78 Squadron. Photographs
Description
An account of the resource
Seventy three items. Folder subject submitted by donor. Photographs of aircraft, bombs, aircrew and groundcrew.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
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78 Sqn Info
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Loading small bomb containers
Description
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Three armourers loading a small bomb container into the bomb bay of a Halifax. Two airmen wearing battledress, the one on the right with pilot's brevet look on. A bomb trolley with another small bomb container in front.
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One b/w photograph
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Photograph
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P78Sqn17010004
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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aircrew
bomb trolley
bombing up
ground personnel
Halifax
incendiary device
service vehicle
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2032/32663/P78Sqn17010003.1.jpg
f4b99281da65f461b18973e05c0c4433
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Title
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78 Squadron. Photographs
Description
An account of the resource
Seventy three items. Folder subject submitted by donor. Photographs of aircraft, bombs, aircrew and groundcrew.
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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78 Sqn Info
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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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Bomb trolleys and Halifax
Description
An account of the resource
On the right a nose of a Halifax. To the left bottom, two bomb trolleys, the first with small bomb containers and the second with general purpose bomb, all surrounded by eight ground personnel. Tractor behind trolleys and two other Halifax in the distance.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
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One b/w photograph
Type
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Photograph
Identifier
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P78Sqn17010003
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Conforms To
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Pending identification. Things
bomb trolley
bombing up
ground personnel
Halifax
incendiary device
service vehicle
tractor
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2032/32662/P78Sqn17010002.1.jpg
4853d3822058223fd3e03cc1b842dd52
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
78 Squadron. Photographs
Description
An account of the resource
Seventy three items. Folder subject submitted by donor. Photographs of aircraft, bombs, aircrew and groundcrew.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
78 Sqn Info
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
Armourers preparing small bomb containers
Description
An account of the resource
Six airmen working on or looking on at small bomb containers. Two other airmen stand on the left.
This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
Format
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One b/w photograph
Type
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Photograph
Identifier
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P78Sqn17010002
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
bomb dump
bombing up
ground personnel
incendiary device
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/522/32093/BMannAMannAv3.2.pdf
8d2f09c086bd0149c025df13d8536dd3
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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Mann, Alan
A Mann
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Mann, A
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Alan Mann (b.1926). He was an apprentice at De-Havilland during the war and experienced bombing in 1940.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Alan Mann and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Date
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2016-01-30
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.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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The other day I watched a programme where a family attempted to show what it must have been like to have lived in the war. It involved dressing up in 1940 clothes and spending time in an Anderson shelter, with sounds of an air raid and the music of Glen Miller. I found I could in no way relate to this and felt it did little to show people what it was really like. The war has been very well documented and there is no shortage of material for people interested in reading about the war, but what was it really like for me?
In 1938 I was eleven years old and lived with my parents in Lewisham. I was aware that there was talk about another war with Germany and saw various preparations taking place. I had recently joined my new school, Brockley Grammar in Hilly Fields and there was talk about the school being evacuated. Towards the end of the year the school was evacuated to Robertsbridge in Kent, I chose not to go.
I remember seeing anti-aircraft guns being installed in Hilly Fields, close to my school, windows being taped up, buildings being protected with sand bags and gas masks being issued. Although I can remember a lot of events I cannot recall the specific dates on which they occurred. However with the aid of the modern computer and by re-reading various books on the subject, I am now able to record events more clearly, but for what purpose? Mainly so that my recollections can be easily accessed for future reference and perhaps somebody else may find something of interest. My father served throughout the First World War and I now deeply regret not finding out more about his experiences.
In starting to write this I find it difficult to accept that the war started over sixty five years ago and must now be considered history, but here goes!
My first recollection connected with the forthcoming war was at a Biggin Hill flying day. Together with my parents we used to visit RAF Biggin Hill for their annual flying display, held to celebrate Empire Air Day and visited the last one on the 20th May 1938. Being very interested in aircraft I was well aware that the Germans had a modern air force and a very formidable new fighter, the Messerschmitt BF 109.
At the show we were treated to air displays by the squadron’s Gloster Gauntlets, Gladiators and other biplane aircraft. As I recall most of the show consisted of ancient biplanes, fighters and bombers, however we did have a fly past by our latest monoplane fighter, the Hawker Hurricane. On the ground we were allowed to see a closely guarded Hurricane and Spitfire! The Spitfire shown was evidently the first production model. Also featured were the latest additions to the RAF, a Wellington Bomber, a Blenheim and a new monoplane the Defiant. I remember leaving the show being very impressed with the Hurricane and Spitfire but also concerned that the squadron’s main aircraft was still the biplane Gauntlet, certainly no match for the Messerschmitt.
Gloster Gauntlets, top speed 230 mph Messerschmitt BF 109, top speed 350 mph
I had seen pictures showing the results of the German air force bombing villages in Spain,
(Spain’s civil war, 1936 to 1939) and was well aware what could be in store for us in the event of
Page 2
another war with Germany.
During this period I had attended various local schools catering for those children not evacuated, ending up at a local school called Morden Terrace. Eventually I was offered a place at the South East London Technical Institute (SELTI) and in September 1938 began a three year course in mechanical engineering.
To add some order to these recollections I have decided to place them in the order they happened, beginning with the day Germany invaded Czechoslovakia.
In March 1939 Germany invaded Czechoslovakia and then on the 1st September invaded
Poland. We gave Germany an ultimatum which they chose to ignore. As a result our Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain announced at 11am on the 3rd September 1939 that we were once again at war with Germany. France joined us as did most of the countries in the British Empire and the Commonwealth.
This was a very sombre occasion as my parent’s memories of the last war were still very fresh in their minds. Shortly afterwards the air raid siren sounded and we expected the worse, but fortunately it was a false alarm. We obtained our main information about the progress of the war from the radio, especially the evening 9 o’clock news. The BBC had decided to name its announcers so that we could distinguish them from imitations by the German propagandists. I still remember the start of the news which began “Here is the news, and this is Alvar Lidell reading it”.
The BBC news bulletins, although censored, gave us an idea of the progress of the war and generally determined how we felt. Initially we expected heavy bombing by the German air force but as this did not materialise we began to feel more confident.
The main evacuation of children from our cities commenced shortly afterwards, although the first evacuation had occurred at the time of the Munich Crisis, a year earlier.
Following the German invasion of Poland in 1939 the British Expeditionary Force was sent to France shortly after Britain and France had declared war on Germany. It was commanded by Lord Gort, who was under the command of the French General Maurice Gamelin. The BEF was considered to be a formidable fighting force and together with the huge French Army we had every reason to think the war would soon be over, however most of us were unaware of the political situation in France at the time. The senior French generals could not agree on a coordinated plan of attack, preferring to wait to see what the Germans would do. In the pre- war years the French had built a series of fortifications known as the Maginot Line and the Germans had built a similar one called the Siegfried Line. Most of the allied forces were sent to reinforce the Maginot Line against the expected German attack.
At this time the French had the largest army in Europe, with the support of a large air force and navy, however its Generals were mostly veterans of the First World War and consequently thought in terms of defeating an expected attack at the Maginot Line.
On the 14th October.1939 our battleship HMS Royal Oak was hit by 3 torpedoes and sunk with heavy loss of life, whilst at anchor in our Naval Base at Scapa Flow.
On the13th December.1939 we lost an aircraft carrier, HMS Courageous. I remember visiting this ship earlier in the year at a Royal Navy open day at Portsmouth and being impressed with its size. The German submarine U29 fired three torpedoes with two hitting the ship. It sunk in less than 15 minutes killing 518 of its crew, including the Captain. This was not a good start to the war!
German warships and in particular their pocket battleship Graf Spee, had been very active in sinking our merchant ships. The Graf Spee was eventually sighted by three of our cruisers, Ajax,
Achilles and Exeter and after a short engagement was eventually scuttled on the 13th December
1939 in what has since become known as the “Battle of the River Plate”. At last we had some good news which helped to cheer us up!
In 1939 Britain only grew enough food to feed one person in three and the German submarines and surface ships now threatened to starve the U.K. into defeat. But it was not just food, many other
Page 3
essential things had to be imported such as rubber, wood, crude oil etc, were now threatened.
Petrol (distilled from imported crude oil) was rationed soon after the war started and butter, sugar, bacon and meat rationed from January 1940. so even before the first signs of war in France we were already feeling the effects of the war.
HMS Courageous HMS Royal Oak
The first deployment of our forces was completed by the 11th October 1939 at which point 158,000 men and their equipment had been transported to France. It was lead by our General Lord Gort, aged 53, under the Supreme Commander of the French Army, General Maurice Gamelin, aged 68, both veterans of the First World War. The majority of his troops were stationed along the Franco-Belgian border at the Maginot Line. Belgium and Holland were not at war and so no troops were sent to them.
By September 1939 we had rapidly modernised our Air Force which now featured over 500 of the latest Hurricanes and Spitfires. Although still falling far short of the estimated strength of the German Luftwaffe, it was a considerable improvement on our resources in 1938, at the time of the Munich Crisis.
Most members of the French army were in the infantry. The first armoured divisions had just been formed but the first three would not be ready for action until the spring of 1940. At the start of
the war the French air force had 826 fighter planes, including 370 modem fighters capable of taking on the latest German fighter, the Messerschmitt 109. It also had over 400 modern bombers, plus a large navy featuring some very useful capital ships. By the spring of 1940 the French air force had increased to 740 modern fighters.
Over the next few months troops, materials and vehicles continued to be sent to France and by the 13th March 1940 the BEF had doubled in size to around 316,000 men, with further tanks, guns, ammunition and supplies including an initial RAF detachment of about 500 assorted aircraft. With our combined Forces it did not seem unreasonable to expect that we would quickly defeat the German army. . However after establishing our armies at the German frontier General Gamelin, instead of attacking, decided to wait to see what the Germans would do.
On the 1st January 1940, conscription began of all able-bodied men between the ages of 18 to 27, later this was increased to the age of 50. You were exempted if you could prove you were employed on vital war work. My brother, an apprentice printer aged 20, had already volunteered for the RAF. On completion of his training, as an airframe fitter, he was transferred to an RAF training airfield at Oudtshoorn in South Africa.
In early February we became aware of a German merchant ship called “Altmark” which we understood contained a number of crews from merchant ships sunk by the German pocket battleship
“Graf Spee”. We then learnt that it was located in neutral Norwegian waters, however, despite this,
on February 14th 1940 our destroyer HMS Cossack sailed into Jossing Fjord and with the call “OK
mates the Navy’s here” rescued 299 of our sailors. At last we had something to be proud of, but not for long!
It soon became apparent that Gamelin was not willing to engage in an attacking battle with the
Page 4
German army, somehow hoping this could be avoided. This indecision gave Hitler time to decide when and where to attack. When he was ready, on the 9th April 1940, Germany avoided the Maginot Line by invading neutral Denmark and Norway and then followed with the invasion of Holland, Belgium and then attacked France, avoiding the Maginot Line by going through Belgium.
This took the French generals completely by surprise as they were not expecting or prepared for this development and never recovered in sufficient time to confront the Germans with any great force. Without leadership the French morale soon crumbled under the sudden attack from the air and German armour.
The German advance had been achieved by the combined use of tanks, infantry and aircraft in what has become known as a blitzkrieg.The word, usually shortened to blitz, means a “lightning war” and is associated with a series of quick and decisive short battles aimed at creating fear and confusion in the opposing force and delivering a knockout blow before it could fully recover.
The German air force (Luftwaffe) played a very important part in this exercise using the Junkers 87 Stuka dive bomber to create panic and confusion in both the troops and retreating civilians.
Junkers JU 87 “Stuka” dive bomber
When the fighting in France finally began it soon became apparent that the majority of the French forces were already demoralised, due to bad leadership and political corruption and when the Luftwaffe started their bombing campaign the French army quickly disintegrated, leading the way open for immediate action by the German army. French troops were seen to throw away their guns and even discard their uniforms to join the fleeing civilians. There were even reports about some French pilots actually trying to prevent our aircraft from taking off for fear of reprisals, saying "why risk your life when the war is already lost".
On May 10th 1940 Chamberlain resigned due to ill health and Winston Churchill became our new Prime Minister, this despite some hostility from members of our government. Some, like the French, thought the war was already lost and that we should be talking with Hitler in an attempt to obtain the best terms for surrender. Fortunately Winston’s inspiring oratory resulted in a small majority in favour of us continuing to fight.
Without the full co-operation of the French forces and the almost immediate surrender of both Belgium and Holland, General Gort decided that our continued presence in France had become untenable and on the 26th May we began evacuating our troops from Dunkirk.
Although we managed to save 338,226 allied troops we had to leave all our supplies behind, including 615 tanks, 2,472 guns, 65,000 vehicles, 25,000 motorcycles, 416,000 tons of stores, 75,000 tons of ammunition and 162,000 tons of petrol. (These surprising and very precise figures have been obtained from historical records and demonstrate the extent of the disaster).
In just a few weeks Britain had gone from having one of the best equipped armies to being almost non-existent, and this without engaging the enemy in any major battle. We at home could not
believe it and wondered what disaster was going to happen to us next!
During the few weeks of actual fighting it has been estimated that the French lost 757 aircraft
(mostly on the ground) and two million French soldiers had surrendered. However some must have
Page 5
fought because the French lost nearly 94,000 dead with 250,000 wounded. The British lost 3,475 dead and 15,850 wounded, with many thousands taken prisoner.
General Lord Gort, commander of the BEF was subsequently criticized for his actions during the short French campaign, but most realised that without support from our allies he had little choice but
to withdraw. His subsequent actions meant that a high proportion of our troops were saved and thus able to fight again, but the loss of so much equipment was extremely serious.
While the RAF’s Hurricanes and Spitfires had already proven themselves against the German Luftwaffe the RAF had lost a considerable number of its valuable front line aircraft and experienced pilots. The operations in France cost the Royal Air Force a total of 959 aircraft, including 477 of its latest Hurricanes and Spitfires and other aircraft including bombers operating from UK. bases. Two hundred and eighty of our fighter pilots had lost their lives or had been taken prisoner.
Well aware of the speed with which Germany had just conquered most of Europe we wondered just how much time we had before Germany turned its attention to us. Before using its ground troops the German Air Force had softened up the target by intense bombing and we expected the same would happen to us. There were plenty of rumours about German agents (fifth column) being already here, the forerunner of an attack by German airborne soldiers. This was reinforced by the German radio frequently giving accurate reports about local conditions in the UK.
This waiting for the expected attack was unnerving while we waited for the sound of church bells, the warning that an invasion had began, however unlike the French and other Europeans we were prepared to defend our Country, although unsure what with! True we had a newly formed Home Guard, formed of civilians either unfit or too old to join the regular forces, armed with a variety of home made weapons and little else, apart from a display of British defiance!
We had heard frequent reports of atrocities being carried out by the Germans on prisoners and refugees which only hardened our resolve not to let them land. Our immediate problem was how were we were going to stop them? After Dunkirk we had no army and a depleted air force with only 331 modern Spitfires and Hurricanes to defend Britain from the expected invasion. If the Germans attacked Britain right away Dowding, who was in charge of Fighter Command, was concerned that his forces would be hard pushed to keep them at bay, and it was an immediate attack that was thought most likely.
Seeing the remnants of our army arriving back in the UK we had to accept how vulnerable our position had suddenly become. On the home front we were already suffering from the effects of both food and material shortages and with the fear of an invasion imminent our future suddenly looked very bleak When war was declared on September 3rd 1939, together with the considerable forces of France, we had every reason to expect a quick end to the war; however things had not gone according to plan and in just ten months we were facing defeat!
Like the French we had many people saying the situation was hopeless and that we should try to get the best possible terms for surrender, but unlike the French we now had a fighting Prime Minister in Winston Churchill. Through his broadcasts he encouraged us to keep our nerve and to fight on. Despite little resources he assured us that we could and would eventually win. Then to make matters worse, on the 10th June thinking the war would soon be over and wanting a share in the spoils, Italy declared war on us.
On the 22nd June Franc finally surrendered. All this happened within a few weeks from Germany commencing the ground war in Europe. We had no doubt what was in store for us and wondered how long we had before the invasion of our island. Winston Churchill, our new prime minister, then assured everybody that we would and could fight on. There can be no doubt that his attitude and speeches helped us to believe we still had a future, despite certain defeat staring us in the face. Unfortunately some modern historians find it difficult to accept the fact that without Churchill’s leadership our government, with some public support, may well have been seeking the best terms for surrender. People alive at this time will remember the importance of Churchill’s oratory on our morale; we trusted him and his leadership.
Page 6
Although the French Army was shattered, the French Navy was still very much intact. Darlan,
the Admiral of the French Fleet, had told Churchill that the Fleet would be sunk before it ccould be
surrendered to the Germans; however Churchill was not convinced. If the French Navy had fallen
into German hands the situation at sea would have become critical. Added to all our other problems this could have been the last straw.
Adolf Hitler, Chancellor of Germany Winston Churchill, UK Prime
from 30th January 1933 to 30th April Minister from the10th May 1940
1945 until 26th July 1945
Churchill was therefore faced with a decision, either to trust that Darlan would and could keep his word or that events would quickly determine the result. On the 22nd June France finally surrendered and it was time for Churchill to decide what he had to do.
On the 1st of July Churchill, with the backing of our government, gave Darlan an immediate ultimatum regarding the fate of the French Navy. On the 3rd July the British surrounded the French Fleet at the port of Mers-el-Kebir right outside Oran, Algeria. Churchill's message was loud and clear, “sail to Britain, sail to the USA, or scuttle your ships within the next six hours, or we will be forced to take action”
At first the French refused to speak to our negotiators. Two hours later the French showed the British an order they had received from Admiral Darlan instructing them to sail the ships to the USA if the Germans broke the armistice and demanded the ships. Meanwhile the British had intercepted a message from the German sympathetic French Vichy Government ordering reinforcements to move urgently to Oran. This was not good news. "Settle everything before dark or you will have reinforcements to deal with” Churchill told them but received no reply. Churchill was left with no alternative other than to order an immediate attack on the French ships.
An hour and a half later the British Fleet attacked and in less than ten minutes, 1,297 French sailors were dead and three battleships sunk. One battleship and five destroyers managed to escape. We suffered no loss or damage.
While the French were furious over the events the reaction in England was the exact opposite. For the first time since taking over as Prime Minister Churchill received a unanimous standing
ovation in parliament. Churchill had a message for the British, for Hitler, and for the rest of the world and that message was heard loud and clear, England was prepared to fight on whatever
the outcome!
Page 7
Sometimes at weekends and evenings I cycled with a school friend to see what was happening
at our local airfield, RAF Biggin Hill. We had discovered a field in Downe which gave us a good view of the northern part of the airfield. The main road from Bromley to Westerham, which
previously passed through the airfield was now closed, the traffic being diverted through country lanes to Westerham.
From our vantage point we had a good view of the aircraft, which were mostly Hawker Hurricanes. The squadrons had been very active having been involved in the battle for France and our subsequent evacuation from Dunkirk. The aircraft and buildings had been camouflaged during September 1938 at the time of the Munich crisis, when Hurricanes slowly began to replace the Gauntlet biplane fighters. Although we saw little of the German air force it was evident that air battles had been occurring off the coast, from news we heard on the radio. The war news was not good, as we had already lost some of our capital ships and the German submarines were very active sinking our supply ships. The war was already beginning to have an effect on our well-being and we were very apprehensive as to what the future held in store for us.
From the 10th July, now recorded as the start of the “Battle of Britain”, the Germans carried out heavy raids on Falmouth, Swansea, Aberdeen and Cardiff. This was phase two of four phases in the German plan deemed essential to obtain air superiority prior to a successful invasion of our shores.
Phase 1: The Luftwaffe would attack our shipping in the channel to test our RAF’s response.
Phase 2: Eagle Attack, an attack on our air defences and southern towns.
Phase 3: The Attack on Airfields intending to destroy our RAF.
Phase 4: The Blitz, an attack on the civilians in London. causing them to seek a surrender.
Hitler was convinced that in our current situation our government would have no choice but to seek talks in order to secure the best terms for our surrender. By demonstrating the strength of his Luftwaffe Hitler hoped to speed these talks on their way.
On the 19th July Hitler gave us the last chance to surrender on his terms and on the 22nd July Lord Halifax responded by saying that we would continue to fight until we had secured freedom for us and others. This was good to hear, but did little to convince us that we had much left to continue the fight. All we had to stop the Germans was our Royal Navy and a depleted Royal Air Force. Up to now the RAF, mainly consisting of Hurricanes, had shown that they could compete against the Messerschmitt 109 and were more than a match for their bombers. We were aware that the German Luftwaffe had already shown itself to be a very formidable fighting force, much larger than anything we could offer. Our Royal Navy was busy protecting our merchant ships and was prepared for possible action against German capital ships.
At this stage I had personally seen little of the fighting, apart from watching news reels and hearing the news on the radio, both censored in our favour. However this all changed on the 18th August with the introduction of phase three of Hitler’s plan, with attacks on our air fields, including Biggin Hill.
Thirty bombers attacked the airfield causing damage to the motor transport sheds. Two airmen were killed and three wounded. A number of high explosive and delayed action bombs were dropped on the airfield, but it remained operational. Three further raids occurred on the airfield on the 22/23rdAugust and the following two days, but the airfield didn’t suffer any further damage. I was unaware of these raids when, with a school friend, we decided to visit the airfield on Saturday the 30th August.
I remember it was a sunny evening and, with my friend Ron Poole, decided to cycle to our local airfield to see what was going on. We arrived about 5.30 and settled in at our usual place. Nothing much appeared to be going on apart from a few Hurricanes being refuelled when suddenly we saw many aircraft coming in very low and then things began to happen. We heard the rattle of machine guns and then the deafening sound of bombs exploding, much too close for our comfort. The noise was terrific and in a very short time our airfield was in a mess with planes and vehicles burning
everywhere. There had been was no warning that anything unusual was about to happen, but in a
Page 8
few moments the scene had changed and the airfield was now in a mess, with fires, explosions and the noise of fire bells and smoke and dust covering the airfield.
When we first saw the aircraft we thought they were Blenheims, but soon became disillusioned! After the initial shock we decided it was time to leave and didn’t visit the airfield for some time after
that.
An official report of the raid reads as follows:
“Saturday August 31st 1940 at 1800 hours.
For the second time that day Biggin Hill was bombed and almost put out of action. Oil tanks were hit and set ablaze, the main electricity cable was hit and cut the power lines to all buildings. With hangars and roadways cratered it was anticipated that the airfield would be out of action for at least two days.
Nine Ju88 bombers had managed to get through the British defences taking everybody by surprise and struck Biggin Hill with a low level bombing attack, dropping 1000 lb bombs and causing mayhem. The transport yard was destroyed, storerooms, the armoury and both officers and sergeants messes were severely damaged, two hangars had been wrecked earlier in the day and now another hanger was almost flattened and on top of all that telephone and communication lines were severed and gas and water mains ruptured. Casualties amounted to thirty-nine personnel killed and thirty five injured”.
Raids continued on the airfield until the 20th April 1941, a total of 25 causing considerable damage. 42 personnel were killed during the raids with many injured. Biggin Hill was considered a very important target by the Germans, but remained operational throughout the war. During this period the weather was very good and we watched many contrails in the sky, caused by the fighting aircraft and sometimes heard machine and cannon fire. The good news was that we were told we were winning the battle.
On the 7th September the Germans put into action phase three of their plan to terrorise the civilian population and, as a result, force our Government into suing for peace. The German Luftwaffe switched their attack from the RAF airfields and attacked London, which became the official start of the “Blitz.” This was very fortunate as it allowed the RAF to recover, but not so good for the Londoners. This switch of the German attacks away from our airfields has been considered by historians as a great German blunder that may well have lost them the war.
On Sunday the 15th September1940 we were informed that we had shot down 183 aircraft for the loss of only 30, good news indeed. In fact actual figures compiled after the war showed that we had destroyed 56 for the loss of 26. However it was apparent that the Germans could not sustain these losses, especially the loss of their experienced aircrew.
In the meantime our bombers had been attacking the embarkation ports and destroying their invasion barges. Goring had promised Hitler that the RAF would be destroyed in a maximum of three weeks, allowing the invasion to take place. This obviously was not happening and Hitler decided to delay the invasion and to concentrate on the invasion of Russia. Unfortunately we did not know this at the time and still thought that the expected invasion could still occur at any moment.
History shows that although we had lost a lot of aircraft, the loss of experienced pilots was more serious. The figures showed that the situation, prior to switching the attacks away from our airfields,
was such that our RAF would have been unable to continue for much longer, perhaps days at the most!
While the critical Battle of Britain officially commenced on the 10th July 1940 and ended on the 31st October, the air raids and destruction continued long afterwards. However for me the real Battle of Britain began on the 26th May 1940, when our troops began to arrive back from Dunkirk, and didn’t end until the fear of an invasion had receded, when the Germans invaded Russia on the 22nd June 1941. This was the period when I felt we could and probably would lose the war.
Phase four of Hitler’s invasion plan began on the 6th of October and continued until the 31st of
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October. As the long hot summer ran into October the German daylight bomber losses became too heavy to sustain, and they started to operate only at night.
The London Blitz started on the 7th of September 1940 and continued until the 19th of May 1941, for 76 consecutive nights, resulting in over a million London houses being destroyed or damaged. During this period many of our other cities were also attacked, resulting in further damage and loss
of life. Coventry, for instance, was almost completely destroyed on the 13th November 1940. In one night, more than 4,000 homes were destroyed, along with around three quarters of the cities
factories. There was barely an undamaged building left in the city centre. Two hospitals, two churches and a police station were also among the damaged buildings. More than 600 people were killed and over 1,000 had been badly injured.
The Blitz had killed at least 60,575 with 86,182 wounded; however the bombing had not achieved Hitler’s intended goal of demoralizing the British into surrender and by June 1941 the threat of an invasion of Britain had passed. Hitler had by this time realised that the British were not going to be terrorized into accepting defeat, as had happened to the rest of Europe. He then turned his attention to attacking Russia and the Battle of Britain was finally over and Germany finally conceded that she had not won the battle to gain air supremacy necessary for an invasion of our island, despite all the odds being in her favour.
When the Battle of Britain officially ended, figures obtained after the war showed Germany had lost 1389 aircraft with 643 badly damaged. As the battle took part over the UK, most of the German aircrew shot down were either killed or became prisoners. We lost 792 aircraft shot down and a considerable number destroyed on the ground. Apparently the loss in aircraft was never serious as these were being replaced. However the loss of experienced pilots was crucial. We had lost 544 pilots killed, with a large number seriously wounded. This represented a very high proportion of the pilots available to continue the battle. It was calculated that if these losses continued the RAF would soon be put out of action, perhaps in days.
What did the battle achieve? The answer is very simple; it prevented the Germans from
obtaining air superiority, allowing us to remain in the war. If we had lost the battle the Germans may well have invaded and we would have had very little to stop them. We would then have become another member of the Third Reich! Some youngsters may well ask would this have been a bad thing? To this I would say look at what had happened to those countries already under German rule and if you really care, take the time to study the considerable amount of documentary evidence available. If this was done then I am quite certain the question would not arise. We should never forget the debt we owe to those who lost their lives fighting the “Battle of Britain” and remember the considerable part my local airfield, Biggin Hill, contributed to winning this battle.
At the start of the Blitz my brother was in Africa, my father was working at the Evening Standard, a newspaper owned by Lord Beaverbrook, and my mother was working part time at the Dockhead School, Bermondsey, where Tommy Steele (aged about 6) was a pupil. We kept chickens in the garden and I had a mongrel dog called Raff and a pet tortoise. My father was trained in first aid and was an air raid warden. Food was in short supply as was clothing and other items considered essential for a normal existence. We still thought invasion was imminent and generally felt very depressed with the war news.
Frequent telegrams were arriving indicating the loss of loved ones. Two of my brother’s friends in the RAF had already been killed and my parents talked of others they knew who were no longer with us. A lot had already happened before the first bombs had fallen on London, mostly bad news, all contributing to our general depression.
Some house-holders had an Anderson shelter. The Anderson shelter was designed to go in a garden and over one million were issued by the end of 1938. Eventually over 2.5 million were issued, free to people earning less than £250 per year, otherwise the cost was £7. They measured 6.5 ft. by 4.5 ft. and consisted of curved corrugated iron sheets. They had to be sunk 3 ft. in the ground
and covered with earth and sandbags, the front entrance had a sandbag blast wall. They were
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designed to accommodate 4 to 6 people. They were cold, draughty and damp, but nevertheless saved a lot of lives. They were usually lit by paraffin oil lamps and unheated. Like most things paraffin, candles and batteries were all in short supply. Everything needed for creature comfort seemed to be unavailable; “after all there is a war on” we were told
My father had strengthened our cellar and placed planks of wood on which we tried to sleep. It had electric light, but very few other luxuries. For the first weeks the Germans seemed to do as they pleased, with little opposition. We heard a few anti-aircraft guns firing, but saw little of any real
opposition from our fighters. On most days and nights we heard bombs exploding and the bells of rescue lorries. The next day we saw damaged houses and heard about people being killed and
wounded. This was mostly by word of mouth as the news on our radio and newspapers were
censured. If we listened to the German radio an Irishman, William Joyce, known by us as “Lord Haw Haw“ gave his version of the air raids. In the evening we listened to the radio and sometimes played card games or Monopoly.
I remember my mother frequently joining a queue, although mostly she had no idea what she was queuing for. It didn’t matter, if it was still available when she got to the head of the queue she bought it anyway. A sausage, rabbit or even offal was considered a luxury. Lack of essential food was becoming a problem, even fruit and vegetables were now in short supply.
The actual Blitz has been very well documented, so I will only comment on my experience. I spent a lot of my school attendance in their air raid shelter. Sometimes I accompanied my mother shopping at Lewisham and Catford, but nearly always spent some time in a convenient surface shelter. We later heard that these were not safe. They were constructed with a brick wall and a heavy concrete roof. Consequently if a bomb landed nearby the blast could cause the walls to collapse and the heavy roof fall on the people inside. We had heard of deaths so caused, but with bombs exploding near by it somehow seemed safer to get under cover. Incendiary bombs were falling everywhere and to make life even more exciting, the Germans added a device which caused the incendiary bomb to explode, causing an extra hazard.
Eventually we had more anti-aircraft guns and these brought another danger, that of falling shrapnel. I remember my father saying that there was more chance of being hit on the head with
a piece of hot shrapnel than being hit with a bomb! One thing I recall is that our Navy brought some ships up the Thames to assist the London anti-aircraft guns. Cycling to Greenwich I remember seeing a destroyer which we were informed was the famous “Cossack,” the destroyer which had achieved fame when it had rescued our merchant sailors from the German prison ship, “Altmark”.
The London Blitz officially ended on the 19th May 1941 but we were unaware of this at the time
and still expected the raids to continue. The Germans had decided to halt the bombing when it
became apparent that bombing alone was unlikely to cause the British civilians to request their Government to surrender. The Germans apparently could not understand this as bombing civilians, or even the threat of bombing had worked very successfully before, as in Belgium, Holland and France.
During the Blitz on London more than 36,000 bombs had fallen, killing 12,696 with over 20,000 seriously injured. More than a million homes had been demolished and many more badly damaged. Germany had hoped that the civilian population would be forced to surrender, but I was not aware of any such feeling. Hitler had certainly made us very angry, but all this did was to make us more determined to continue the fight. Unfortunately we civilians had nothing with which to fight back, however it helped boost our morale when we heard that our bombers were active over Germany, especially when they bombed Berlin!
When I hear people calling our bomber boys murderers I despair, how can they ignore the fact that the Germans were the first to bomb civilians and then to ignore the indiscriminate blanket bombing of our cities, with the intention of destroying the morale of its citizens?
Fire watching had now been introduced and employees became responsible for detecting fires
in their buildings. My father had to spend several nights a week on fire duty. Those of us who
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ventured out at night had to contend with the black out. It was almost impossible to see
anything. In the winter houses and factories burnt a very sub-standard coal called nutty slack, this resulted in a sulphurous gas called smog. It was far from pleasant when this was added to fog and the blackout. Despite the London Blitz being very well documented I feel it is necessary to list a few of the instances in order to show the result of some of these raids.
On the 7th September 1940 300 bombers accompanied by over 600 fighters bombed the London docks and central London, starting over 1,000 individual fires and causing a considerable amount of
damage; 430 people were killed and over a thousand seriously injured. The fires were clearly visible by me in Lewisham.
17th September Marble Arch underground station received a direct hit, killing 17 and injuring
many others. By mid October well over 250,000 Londoners had been made homeless.
11th January 1941 the Bank underground station received a direct hit and killed 117 and
left hundreds seriously injured.
19th March 500 bombers accompanied by a large number of fighters attacked the docks and central London. 750 were killed and over 1,000 injured.
16th April 685 bombers accompanied by 700 plus fighters dropped a large number of high
explosive bombs and incendiaries causing more than 2,000 individual fires. Over 1,000 were killed and many more seriously injured. The all clear sounded at 6 am on Sunday morning when over 700 acres of London had suffered severe bomb damage, with 11,000 homes destroyed or badly damaged.
The bombing had extended as far as Lewisham, Deptford and Croydon. Main line railway stations had been put out of action, including Waterloo and thousands of streets made impassable. Over 600 water mains were broken and the supply of gas and electricity badly disrupted. Telephone lines were broken, adding to the communication problems of essential services. The last fires were finally extinguished four days later. We could clearly see the fires at the docks from Lewisham and heard the sound of bombs dropping ever closer. The Germans seemed to proceed unhindered with little anti aircraft fire or the presence of any of our night fighters. Next day we discovered more wrecked and damaged houses close to where we lived. It took several weeks before services were back to some normality. Fortunately there were few follow-up raids to disrupt the necessary repair and salvage operations.
Although the above lists only some of the serious events even a single person killed would cause hurt and despair to the family affected. During every raid I wondered if I would survive or if I should suffer a serious injury, a loss of a limb or eyesight.
After the raid, those of us not directly affected just carried on as usual. Somehow we were grateful to still be alive and determined to make the most of the next day, after all what else could we do? I think most of us felt that if we could only survive the present day, tomorrow had to be better or perhaps the next day! The last thing we wanted was for the Germans to win. We were pleased every time we heard our bombers had raided Germany, but concerned to hear of our inevitable losses.
The Churchill broadcasts helped tremendously by strengthening our morale. The radio and newspapers also helped by concentrating on whatever good news they could find and censoring the bad. We were certainly not enjoying life and wondering just how much more we could take when suddenly Hitler decided to turn his attention towards attacking Russia, in order to gain access to its oil, mineral and other resources. Hitler expected it to be a quick victory and it nearly was until the Russian winter took a hand. While this saw the end of the concentrated raids, the bombing of civilians still continued.
During the Blitz my father and his crew were busy dealing with incendiaries, while the experts dealt with the unexploded high explosives, sometimes with tragic results. We owed a lot to them
and many others, especially the firemen and ambulance drivers who regularly risked their lives and to the women who were seen driving the rescue vehicles and helping in so many other ways. In one
of the raids, just before Christmas, I lost a cousin Olive who was an ambulance driver. It was
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amazing that so many people were ready to risk their lives while helping others, the events certainly brought out the best in people.
The Italians had a formidable navy based at Taranto, in the Mediterranean and on our navy decided it was time to do something about it in what has become known as the Battle of Taranto.
On the night of 11/12th November 1940 our Royal Navy launched the first all-aircraft ship-to-ship naval attack in history, flying a small number of obsolescent Fairy Swordfish biplane torpedo bombers from an aircraft carrier, the HMS Illustrious.
The first wave of 12 aircraft left Illustrious just before 21:00 hours on 11th November 1940, followed by a second wave of nine about 90 minutes later. Of the second wave, one turned back
with a problem with its auxiliary fuel tank and another launched 20 minutes late following
emergency repairs to damage from a minor taxiing accident. We lost two aircraft shot down.
The devastation wrought by the British carrier-launched aircraft on the large Italian warships was the beginning of the rise of the power of naval aviation, over the big guns of battleships and was subsequently copied by the Japanese on Pearl Harbour. The Italian fleet lost about half its strength in one night, and the next day the Italians transferred its undamaged ships from Taranto to Naples to protect them from similar attacks. This was news we badly needed to hear!
Fairy Swordfish
In April 1941 Germany launched their African offensive and invaded Yugoslavia and Greece. Then on the 24th May we heard that our most famous capital ship, HMS Hood had been sunk during an engagement with the German battleship, Bismarck. The Hood had a crew of over 1,700 and only 3 survived, we couldn’t believe it! Later we heard that Winston Churchill ordered the Bismarck to be sunk at all costs and on the 27th May it was! Nevertheless we couldn’t help wondering what was wrong with our warships. We knew our Navy was doing an excellent job protecting our merchant ships from submarine attacks, but when faced with the more modern German surface ships and attacks from the air the results were not so encouraging.
Now a teenager I was well aware that my schooling was seriously lacking, although by experience I had learnt about the things that really mattered, the help and friendship of others when most needed. Wealth and status meant little in an ir raid we were all equal, just people trying to survive.
In May 1941, aged 14, I had finished my three years at SELTI and went to work at the Redwing Aircraft Company in Croydon. I was shown how to rivet fuel tanks for Wellington bombers, but the interest did not last long. I sought something more interesting and, on the 17th June, joined the No.1 Maintenance Unit and Barrage Balloon Centre at RAF Kidbrooke as a Trade Lad, on a seven year mechanical engineering apprenticeship. This was also the home of the RAF Skyrockets Dance Orchestra conducted by Paul Fenhoulet and my introduction to dance and swing music.
If I remember correctly I started work at 7.30 until 5.30 and on Saturdays until 12.30, to complete a 50 hour week. We had a ten minute break in the morning and afternoon where we were allowed to sit down. I remember my wage was 17shillings and sixpence (85 p). I worked with a
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Rolls Royce fitter who had recently returned from fighting in Africa. He had been with the 8th army as a gunner in a tank and had suffered ear trouble. When told he had Gunner’s Ear he was puzzled as he thought the doctor had said Gonorrhoea! Our job was to repair damaged Merlin aero engines.
Being a reasonable distance from where I lived meant that I could cycle to work; this in itself could be quite eventful, as I remember arriving at work in a very dishevelled state after cycling into a recently created bomb crater. Cycle and car lamps had to be hooded to prevent any light escaping upwards; unfortunately this also prevented most of the light reaching the ground!
On the 22nd June 1941 Germany invaded Russia. June also saw the start of clothes rationing and the utility system for retail goods. In November, unmarried women aged 20 to 30 were conscripted into the services or other war work. By mid 1943 most single women, between the ages of
20 and 40 were conscripted into the forces or industry. My uncle Reg had to report for work in the
building and repair industry, this meant that he was away from home for considerable periods, his wife Ethel was detailed to work in the local laundry. Apart from young men away in the services we now had families broken up by older members being detailed to join various civilian services on war work. While not affecting my parents or me directly, it did add another concern.
By the end of the year food had become a major problem and we were all feeling the effects of
rationing, this had begun in January 1940. We had been issued with a food ration card and had to
register to buy food from a specific shop. The shop was then issued with the relevant amount
of food for the number of registered customers. However, as food was in short supply, the shops often did not receive enough for all their customers. News that a delivery had arrived at the shop
spread fast and long queues soon formed as everyone was keen to get their share before it was all
sold.
Each person’s weekly allowance was 4 oz of bacon and ham, 2 oz of butter and 8 oz of sugar. In March meat was added to the value of 1 shilling and 6 pence (6p) and. over the next two years other foods added including 1 fresh egg, 1 packet of dried eggs every 4 weeks, 4oz of margarine, 2 oz of cheese, 2 oz of tea, three pints of milk, 1 pound of jam every eight weeks and12 oz of sweets every four weeks.
Other foods rationed between 1940 and 1942 included dried fruit, canned fruit, rice, cooking fat, biscuits and breakfast cereals, while some foods such as potatoes, onions and fish were not rationed but difficult to obtain. Fresh fruit was also in short supply but was not rationed. Only fruit which could be grown in Britain, such as apples, pears, raspberries, blackberries and strawberries were sometimes available. Imported fruit such as bananas, oranges and peaches were not available in the shops.
Clothes and furnishings were rationed on a points system, in1943 we were each allowed 66 points a year, reduced to 48 in 1942, 36 in ’43 and 24 by the end of the war. A man’s overcoat took 18 coupons, a suit 26 and shoes 9, a woman’s simple dress took 11 and her shoes 7. Children aged 14 to16 got 20 more coupons. However we had a flourishing black market run by “spivs” who managed to obtain most things to be sold at an inflated price.
As well as food and clothing many other items were in short supply. A utility range of household furniture was introduced. The items were plain, functional and hard-wearing, but the only option for people who had lost their homes in the bombing and for newly married couples setting up their first home.
Canteen food was not very appetizing and I remember frequently feeling very uncomfortable after a cooked meal, so mostly stuck to salads or things that I could recognise. In restaurants a meal was limited to five shillings (25p) and could not have more than three courses; with meat and fish unable to be served at the same sitting.
Establishments known as British Restaurants appeared and were run by local authorities, who set them up in schools and church halls, intended as a temporary emergency system for feeding those who had been bombed out. By mid 1941 the London County Council was operating 200 of these restaurants and from 1942 to 1944 there were around 2,000 of them open to anybody. They
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proved very popular and greatly appreciated as a three course meal cost only nine pence (4p in new money).When I used them I had no complaints and found the meal better than some others I had experienced.
Despite the end of the blitz raids by German bombers and fighter bombers continued to cause damage and disruption. Barely a day or night passed without the sound of an air raid warning.
After two years at Kidbrooke I realised that at the end of a seven year apprenticeship the best I could hope for was to end up as a competent fitter, not what I wanted. Somehow I managed to get an interview with the station commander, Wing Commander Clapp, to ask if it would be possible to have my apprenticeship transferred to an aircraft Company, I was 16 at the time! Surprisingly he found time to talk with me and agreed to consider a transfer if I could find an aircraft company to take me. As a result in June 1943, my apprenticeship was transferred to the famous de Havilland Aircraft Company and after a year training in their technical school started work in their engine division at Edgware. The journey from my home in Lewisham was daunting to say the least, Lewisham to London Bridge station, then underground to Edgware followed by a fifteen minute walk to their works at Stag Lane, to clock in at 7.30 am.
I remember people sleeping on the underground platforms and the smell; there were no proper toilets, the smoke filled railway carriages with the windows heavily taped and shut during the blackout, the crowded trains and delays caused by enemy action, the smog and frequently travelling next to somebody being sick, this was all part of the war as I remember it! Despite the problems of getting to work we, apart from office staff, had to clock in and five minutes after starting time the
clock cards would be removed. After that you had to ask the foreman for permission to start work and pay was then deducted per quarter of an hour.
.
Sleeping in the underground stations
I joined the Air Training Corp shortly after it was formed and particularly enjoyed the weeks spent at RAF airfields. For a week we became part of the airfield’s wartime routine, hopeful for a
chance of a flight. During my stay in the ATC I had visited three RAF airfields, at Odiham, Wing and Holmsley South, enjoying flights in six aircraft, a Cygnet, Lysander, Wellington, Ventura, Tiger Moth and Dakota. .
The Commanding Officer at Wing was Wing Commander Lionel Van Praag, a speedway rider I remembered from the pre-war days when I had regularly visited the New Cross Speedway with my father. Lionel won the Speedway World Championship in 1936 riding against Eric Langton and I can still remember the event. Many years later I met a WAAF officer who in 1942 was stationed at Wing, she was surprised that I had even heard of Wing let alone knew the Station Commander’s name!
In March 1941 a new shelter appeared, the Morrison. This was a steel structure designed to hold 2 to 3 people lying down. It had a thick steel roof with open wire sides and intended to be used as a
table. It was not very popular and could be a death-trap if the building collapsed on it. Figures
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revealed that in November 1940 the majority of Londoners were not using special shelters, 27% used the Anderson, 9% public shelters and 4% used the tube stations the rest, including me, slept in their homes.
On December 7th 1941 Japan bombed Pearl Harbour and at last America was forced into the war. A few days later, on the 10th December, we were shocked to hear that Japanese aircraft had sunk two of our capital ships, our latest battleship the “Prince of Wales” and our battle cruiser “Repulse”, few of the crew were saved. Would the bad news never end?
The first US infantry troops of around four thousand men arrived in Britain on January 26th, 1942 and eventually swelled to more than 1.5 million. We began to see the first of the Americans
and I was not particularly keen on what I saw. To me they appeared brash and cocky, wore smart
uniforms and had plenty of money to spend. It was obvious that they had not just endured three years of war! Not surprisingly they were just what our girls wanted; with their boy friends and husbands away they were not concerned at being seen in the arms of the GI’s. It may be significant that the Ministry of Health launched a campaign to warn the public against Venereal Disease shortly after the GI’s arrived!
Prince of Wales Crew 1,600 plus Repulse Crew 1,000 plus
Commissioned 19th January 1941
Venereal disease I am sure was news to most of us, it certainly was to me. My main contact with girls had been in the factories and I was not impressed. These were girls who had been conscripted for war work and away from home for the first time. Sex seemed to be their main topic and they delighted in embarrassing young apprentices with suggestive talk and displays of naked flesh.
With the shortage of suitable male partners many of the girls had apparently formed liaisons with other females and appeared not to be concerned when caught in comprising positions. Some men working in the factories had recently returned from our Forces and were not impressed to see how their wives might have behaved when they were away. I was reassured to learn that my colleagues also felt uncomfortable when in the company of these girls, especially when serving time in the work shops.
It may have been noticed that I have not mentioned our Army apart from their evacuation from Dunkirk. The simple reason s is that there was very little good news to report and to make matters worse, on the 15th February 1942 General Percival surrendered Singapore to the Japanese in what has been described as the worst and largest capitulation in British history.
In only seven days of fighting Singapore was surrendered and about. 80,000 of our troops joined the 50,000 British, Australian and Indian troops already captured during the disastrous Malayan Campaign. The Japanese treated our troops with appalling cruelty and inhumanity, many dying in captivity. Churchill was not amused and confirmed our opinion that something was seriously wrong with our generals.
October 1942, at last we had the prospect of good news when General Montgomery commenced the greatest bombardment in history with a surprise attack on the German army in North Africa,
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This started on the evening of 23rd October and, together with the RAF, eventually resulted in the end of Rommel’s African Campaign.
Sometime in November, about 3 o’clock in the morning, I remember it was cold and raining, our house at 43 Overcliff Road, Lewisham received a direct hit. My Aunt Ethel and Uncle Reg were staying with us as their flat in nearby Brockley had been badly damaged. We prepared for bed soon after listening to the 9 o’clock news, the siren had already sounded and we could hear the usual noise of aircraft, anti-aircraft guns and bombs dropping in the distance. We tried to sleep in old clothes on wooden planks covered by a blanket. The planks were placed both sides of the cellar accommodating the five of us. With a supply of coal at the far end of the cellar the air was far from fresh. At the time we were hit, although I was awake (the noise of an air raid did not encourage
sleep) I cannot remember hearing the actual explosion of the bomb, but became aware that I was
suddenly in darkness and covered in dust and rubble. It was completely dark, I heard my father calling to hear if we were all right and we all replied saying we were. Evidently both my mother and aunt said that they couldn’t move because they were covered in debris. I was still lying on the wooden planks but found it was difficult to move and breathe because of the dust and rubble.
My uncle had been in the garden to have a smoke and said he clearly remembered hearing the sound of bombs dropping and then reaching the top of the cellar stairs, but little else. He landed on top of my father. My father was asking us to turn off the gas. Something was lying on my legs and I discovered it was the gas meter. I could smell gas and hear water running but was disorientated and couldn’t find the tap to turn off the gas.
I cannot remember how long we lay there, but the next thing I remember was hearing somebody asking if we were all right. A torch shone and soon people were lifting us out. We stood in a rubble
strewn road, in the wet and darkness, but could not see our house! Luckily apart from some cuts and bruises we were all in one piece. I remember feeling thankful that we were all alive but feeling very cold, wet and dirty. There seemed to be a lot of people speaking and helping us and the next thing I remember was being taken to a disused snooker hall in nearby Catford, which was being used as a rescue centre. My memory is vague as to what exactly happened next, but somehow we ended up with a mug of hot tea and clean dry clothes.
My next memory is going back with my father to see what could be rescued. I was surprised to see our house was just a heap of rubble, the house and the adjoining house, number 45 had just gone! Where our garden should have been was a big hole. No chickens, tortoise or dog. We could not even discover the cellar door or the stairs leading to the cellar. How we had survived was incredible, there was nothing left to save!
My uncle said he believed my dog was in the garden with him but despite hoping that somehow he had survived we never saw him again. It was like losing a member of my family and somehow I felt responsible.
A lot of our elderly neighbours had moved into the country and their empty houses were commandeered by the council. We were given one of these houses as temporary accommodation, but we did not realise how temporary it was going to be! A week later a bomb had fallen nearby and the house was declared unsafe. We were then given another house, where we managed to stay for the rest of the war, despite replacing windows and other damage.
During the Blitz and early part of the war we listened to the radio which featured plenty of dance music and variety shows, but I cannot remember hearing any American bands, including Glen Miller. My first introduction to Glen Miller was probably at the cinema. Miller and his band appeared in two Twentieth Century Fox films, in 1941's Sun Valley Serenade and 1942's Orchestra Wives. I remember buying a 78 rpm recording of Joe Loss playing In the Mood which became a UK’s best seller, but this was probably after the Blitz. At the beginning of the war, all cinemas were main introduction to American bands came from listening to radio broadcasts from the American however this did not last very long and most cinemas had re- opened by the time of the Blitz. My
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main introduction to American bands came from listening to radio broadcasts from the American Forces Network; however this didn’t start until July 4th, 1943.
Air raids continued to have an effect on our lives. The raids were being carried out mostly by fighter bombers. These came in very fast and frequently without warning. At 12.30 on Wednesday afternoon of the 20th January 1943, several Focke Wulf 190’s fighter bombers came in fast and low (the balloon barrage was down) and without warning began machine gunning the streets in Lewisham. Many people reported near misses, including my father who was coming home for lunch. As the aircraft flew overhead machine gun bullets hit the houses and streets. My father said that he was aware of the sudden noise of the aircraft but they flashed past too quickly to see much else. They eventually dropped their bombs on a school at Sangley Road, Catford, killing 38 children and 6 teachers. 60 children were seriously injured. The air raids and killing had not stopped with the Blitz.
I recently read in a local newspaper of eye-witness accounts of how the Germans had especially
targeted the school and people remembering seeing the pilots waving as they flew overhead! One woman who was having her hair done heard the noise of the aircraft and rushed outside to see the Germans circling and targeting the children in the playground.
The school was in a built up area and the aircraft were flying very low at over 300 mph, which is 440 feet per second, so the aircraft would have been visible for only a fraction of a second, assuming you were looking in the right direction at the time. It makes no sense that the pilots would risk their lives just to target a school, despite how we felt about them at the time. While these reports may make interesting reading I don’t see the value in reporting incidences that obviously cannot be true.
The result of five years bombing was to be seen everywhere. While the streets were cleaned, nothing could be done to hide the damaged and demolished buildings. On the 3rd March 1943 there occurred the greatest loss of life in one single incident. On that day there had been 10 raids on London and at 8.17 pm the alert sounded at Bethnel Green. In the tube station 500 people were already installed. It was raining and the entrance to the station dimly lit with only a 25 watt bulb. The stairs were wet and slippery. A large number of people were approaching the station when the local “Z” anti-aircraft battalion fired 60 rockets. The noise was deafening and caused an estimated 1,500 people to surge towards the entrance to the station. Somebody slipped and people behind fell down the stairs crushing those below. This resulted in 173 people being killed, including 62 children. There were also a large number of serious injuries.
6th June1944 was D day when we landed back in France. At last the end of the war appeared in sight. By this time we were really feeling the effects of the war, the shortage of food, clothing, loss of loved ones, the long working hours with little time for relaxation and the uncertainty as to what the future would hold. Would this end in disaster? Historians are fortunate in that they are able to review events knowing the result, whereas those actually living the event did not. Unfortunately many of today’s representations of events in the war do not portray them as I and other veterans, remember.
While we were hoping that the war would soon be over we were in for another shock. On
June 13th 1944 the first of Hitler’s revenge weapons hit London, landing at Hackney and killing six. The V1 flying bomb (Doodlebug) carried one ton of high explosive and no pilot. It flew at about 350 mph. By the end of August over 3,000 had been launched with 500 hitting the South East of England and London. They landed at any time, day or night. Eventually the flying bombs were intercepted by our fighters, anti-aircraft guns and barrage balloons, the launching sites receiving the attention of our bombers.
I am disgusted how some today are all too ready to criticise the supreme effort made by the bomber arm of our air force. Flying in a British bomber during World War Two was one of the most dangerous jobs imaginable. 55,000 aircrew died during the war with many more taken prisoner, the highest loss rate of any major branch of the British armed forces. Yet there is no official campaign
Page 18
medal commemorating the sacrifices of these men. It is seldom mentioned that we lost over 2,000 American and British air crew during the bombing the launch and development sites of the V weapons. Those bombs which did get through caused a tremendous amount of blast damage. We listened for the V1’s engine to stop and knew that we had only seconds to wait for the explosion. When the sites were overrun the flying bombs were launched from the air by Heinkel bombers.
The flying bombs killed 8,938 with an estimated 25,000 seriously injured. Lewisham came third on the list of hits with 114; Croydon came top of the list with l4l and Wandsworth second with 122.
The original German plan was to launch 200 bombs an hour, but the most they ever achieved was 200 a day, but this was enough to severely dent our morale! People were leaving London in huge numbers. In mid July 1944 15,000 were estimated to be leaving the main London stations a day! Between 1.5 and 2 million people had left during the summer, which had been particularly wet and cold. Many businesses and Civil Service departments were evacuated and the absence of people
became noticeable, especially to those having to travel through London. Some of the worst incidents
occurred in South East London, close to Lewisham where I lived. I recall one event which occurred on my mother’s shopping day.
Friday the 28th July at 9.41 a V1 bomb landed at the Lewisham market, killing 59 with 124 seriously injured. The resulting blast destroyed and badly damaged over a hundred shops, flats and houses. It came as a great shock to see so much damage where our local shopping centre had once been. Everybody seemed to know somebody who had either been killed or seriously wounded.
My mother went shopping as usual in the afternoon, unaware that her shopping centre had been
demolished. She didn’t do much shopping that day and had a harrowing story to tell when I arrived home in the evening.
Lewisham market after being hit by a flying bomb on the 28th
July 1944
8th September 1944 the first V2 rocket landed in Chiswick, killing 3 with 17 injured. The
rocket hit at about 3000 mph, with no warning. It carried a ton of high explosive and the impact caused a deep penetration. The effect was like a mini earthquake, with damage being recorded up to a quarter of a mile away.
The high death rate was mainly caused by the lack of any warning. Some of the worst tragedies again occurring in South East London, many close to where I lived.
Over 500 were killed and many more injured in just 14 instances, with the worst one occurring at New Cross on the 15th November, when a rocket landed on a Woolworths store killing 173 and
leaving many more seriously injured. I lost another cousin, Joyce.
27th March 1944 was the last day of the rocket attacks, unfortunately one of the final rockets
Page 19
fell on Hughes Mansions, in Vallence Road, Stepney, killing 134 and seriously injuring many
others. The last rocket fell in Orpington on the same day and the final flying bomb in
Swanscombe the next day. The intention of the V weapons was to kill and wound civilians in the hope that it would destroy their morale, but it didn’t happen and future generations should realise this and that they owe their freedom to this generation.
The later attacks affected us even more; because they were unexpected and by this time we were feeling very exhausted and thinking the war would never end, and then on the 30th April we heard that Hitler had committed suicide.
On the 7th May 1945 Hitler's successor, Admiral Donitz, offered an unconditional surrender to the allies and on the 8th May we celebrated Victory in Europe day. On Monday the 7th May 1945 Germany finally surrendered and at last the European war was over. We officially celebrated victory with a holiday on the following day, called Victory in Europe day or VE day. What happened on
this particular day? Did we all get drunk and dance around merrily? I saw little evidence of that. It
is true that there were thanksgiving services, victory salutes and impromptu street concerts, but the majority of us were just thankful that we had survived physically uninjured.
Pierre Clostermann, a French pilot who had flown from Biggin Hill, wrote “That evening the Mess was like some extraordinary vigil over a corpse. The pilots were slumped in their chairs; no one spoke a word or sang anything. Round about eleven o’clock someone switched on the wireless and we listened to some music.”
Lieutenant Colonel H.W.L. Nichols wrote from Germany “We were all taken by surprise when
the surrender was announced on the wireless, as we had no hint of it coming so soon. It was a bit of an anti-climax though and there was no excitement in the mess. We trooped into the bar had a drink on the strength of it and were all in bed by 10.30”. Major A.J.Forest also wrote from Germany “inwardly I felt melancholic, I wanted quiet to absorb this overwhelming blessing, the restoration of peace after six years of war and above all to be alone”
I spent VE day with my parents and had difficulty in accepting that the war was over and would no longer suffer the apprehension felt upon hearing the sound of an air raid warning. Next day we went back to work and found that little had changed and then realised that the war would not finally be over until Japan had surrendered. It looked as if the war with Japan would be hard fought and an eventual end to the war a long way off.
Six de Havilland Students, photographed for the DH magazine
I am standing top left. The aircraft is an Avro Lincoln.
Early in 1945 I had been transferred to work at Hatfield, promoted from a trade apprentice to an aeronautical student. This meant that I could now continue my training in their design offices; it also meant a considerable increase in travelling time, as I was still living in Lewisham. The factory working week was 50 hours including Saturday mornings, reduced to 48 for senior staff and office
Page 20
workers. As a student I was now expected to aim towards becoming a member of a professional body such as the Royal Aeronautical Society. To do this I had to attend evening classes, preferably at Hatfield. After much discussion I was allowed to enrol back at my old school, the South East London Technical Institute, in order to study for the Higher National Certificate in mechanical and structural engineering, three nights a week!
It was a rush to get back from Hatfield in time to start evening classes at 6.30 pm; however I cannot remember having any time off due to stress or illness. It was later shown that despite the
horrendous working conditions very few days were lost due to sickness or other causes. If we were lucky we had a whole week off for a holiday, which if I remember correctly, was unpaid. I cannot As far as I was concerned the war might be over but nothing much changed, the daily chore was just the same. Food and other materials were still in short supply and rationing still continued. Thr remember either my family or me actually having a holiday during the war.
As far as I was concerned the war might be over but nothing much changed, the daily chore was
just the same. Food and other materials were still in short supply and rationing still continued. The war with Japan was still going on but seemed too distant to be of particular concern until the 6th of
August 1945, when we became aware of a devastating new weapon called the atom bomb. The
United States had dropped an atom bomb on Hiroshima causing extensive damage and loss of life.
The Americans gave the Japanese an offer to surrender but the Japanese generals refused and so on the 9th of August the US dropped a second atom bomb, this time on Nagasaki.
The Japanese government then realized that they had little alternative but to immediately consider a surrender. On the 14th August the Japanese unconditionally surrendered to the allies and on the 2nd of September 1945 the U.S. General Douglas Mac Arthur accepted Japan's surrender thus formally ending the Second World War
Subsequently historians have reviewed the use of this deadly weapon forgetting that we were still at war. Without employing this weapon there can be no doubt that the Japanese would have continued with their horrendous form of unconditional warfare, with death seen as an act of heroism. This would have cost the lives of many more Americans and allied troops. If the Germans or Japanese had such a weapon do these historians really believe they would have hesitated before using it? Who knows what might have happened if the war had continued and Germany or Japan had been allowed to become the first to use an atomic weapon.
One of the last of our Bomber Command raids was on the German city of Dresden. Many historians have managed to convince our younger generation that we had committed a horrendous crime against innocent civilians. They forget that we were still at war having experienced five years of indiscriminate German raids on our cities, with Hitler promising even more deadly attacks. We rejoiced when we heard our bombers had caused maximum damage to their German cities, letting them experience what it was like to be on the receiving end of bombs they had enjoyed dropping on us.
The result of reviewing this one raid on a German city is that the tremendous sacrifice made by our bomber boys during the war has been forgotten. Instead of being considered heroes they have been unjustly vilified, but was the Dresden raid justified? I recently came across a thist statement written by a German scientist:
“Dresden was not simply a cultural centre, there were factories there manufacturing weapons and equipment for the Nazi war effort. To produce an atom bomb a supply of heavy water is needed and
the main source had already been destroyed in Norway. There is sufficient evidence that the Nazis
were producing heavy water in the centre of Dresden, under the impression that because of the large civilian population it would not be bombed. Dresden was also an important rail base for the Nazis to
send troops and equipment to the front and so would be considered an important war target.”
I have also read that right up to his suicide on April 30th 1945 Hitler was still hoping for news that much of the evidence being destroyed in the latter stages of the war, we cannot be certain just how
Page 21
advanced the Germans were towards obtaining such a weapon and did the raids on Dresden on the 13/15th February finally convince him that this was not going the happen?
We will never know if this was true, but if it was suspected that Dresden contained such an important war target then it was right to be attacked. While historians argue that with Germany’s surrender only weeks away we should not have bombed the city. The truth is that I, and probably most of us, did not know the end of the war was only weeks away and felt as though it would go on for ever.
Demobilisation began on the18th June 1945. Bread was rationed after the war, on the 21st July 1946, and food rationing did not finally end until July 1954.
At the end of the war I was aged 18 and with three years of my apprenticeship to complete had enjoyed very little social life. I had had some contact with factory girls but had not been impressed. I
was thankful that I had not suffered any injuries nor lost any of my close family, although my brother
had lost his wife.
During my brother’s stay in South Africa he had married the daughter of the owner of a well known Cape Town newspaper, Cape Argus and on his return to the UK he had to leave without her; however some months later she managed to get a passage on a merchant ship but never arrived. My brother received a telegram to say she had become ill on the voyage and had subsequently died and been buried at sea. It was a sad occasion for me to accompany my brother to Southampton to collect her things, which included presents for us.
In May 1944 there were nearly two million American service men over here, plus
Canadians and other nationalities. The American GIs had plenty of money to spend (the ordinary GIs earning five times more than a British private) and a smart uniform, their accent reminding us of the glamour of Hollywood films. They had gum and candy, silk stockings, plenty of cigarettes and were generally very polite. What else did a lonely girl need? As a result these friendships produced a lot of “Dear John” letters written to their husbands and fiancés overseas. Some of our returning soldiers (over 265,000 had been killed) did not find the expected welcoming homecoming.
To become pregnant out of marriage was considered a very serious breach of family life. I have had personal experience of this when my cousin became pregnant by her American boy friend and was asked to leave home. Despite subsequently keeping in touch with my uncle I never found out what happened to her.
By the end of 1945 the number of divorces had reached 25,000, compared with less than
8,500 in1938. By the end of the war over 100,000 British girls had married American and Dominion servicemen. The number of illegitimate births had reached 64,000 by the end of the war. Venereal disease had become a major concern and there was an added problem of relationships ceasing, when their lovers had to return overseas, some to their wives! The end of the war certainly raised many problems. To many the peace was going to prove a very difficult time!
Perhaps the reader can now see why dressing up in war time clothes, sitting in an
Anderson shelter and listening to a recording of bombs falling has little to do with the reality of my war. One important ingredient missing is how we felt at the time, personal memories which can only be recalled by those that were present at the time. For some the memory may be of a particular instance which is very painful to recall, for me it was part of my teenage experience.
I was too young to do any fighting, but at least I had survived and with my war years still
reasonably clear in my memory have been able to document some of my wartime memories.
Hopefully this recollection will do a little to help; if only to cause the reader to reflect that there was more to the war than can be depicted by sitting in an Anderson shelter. A famous
novelist, J.B.Priestly wrote, “The British were absolutely at their best in the Second World
War. They were never so good in my lifetime before it, and I’m sorry to say that they’ve never been so good after it”
I am very grateful that my computer and reference books have allowed me to quickly
check facts and figures which the passing years may well have caused my memory to distort.
Page 22
Having asked my wife to read this, in order to correct any grammatical and spelling mistakes, she said it was a noble effort, but what was the purpose, who would be interested? I had no idea, I just felt the need to record the war as I remembered it and to express my concern at some of the inaccuracies being displayed in recent television programmes and films. I have no problems with most documentaries; they are generally excellent, especially those of the Great War.
When I see pictures of the terrible trench war I think of my father. He had joined as an
infantry man at the beginning of the war in 1914 and was present at some of the famous battles. However I showed little interest in hearing about his wartime experiences, after all to me it was ancient history! Now I deeply regret the lost opportunity. His war ended on November1918 with a horrifying casualty rate of 35.8 %. But just a few years later he must have been well aware that
another war was a distinct possibility. I can now imagine how he st have felt, with memories of his
war still very fresh in his mind! I also think about the problems faced by my parents and others,
in trying to look after their families.
After the war we learnt that Hitler had not approved any plans for an invasion of the British Isles. None of the plans submitted were considered feasible, especially with the Royal Navy still intact a seaborne invasion was out of the question. But Hitler assumed invasion
would not be necessary, based on what had happened in Europe. After a short blitz on the British civilian population he assumed we would soon sue for peace, especially following the defeat and evacuation of our troops at Dunkirk. Most thought it would be a matter of weeks before Britain admitted defeat, including America but they had not reckoned with the courage of our youngsters in the Royal Air force and the character of the British people, led by our exceptional Prime Minister, Winston Churchill.
The war was certainly a defining moment in my teenage life, having come so close to being a witness to the end of the British Empire.
Alan Mann
June 2008
Revised February 2017
I acknowledge that without a computer and access to the Web for additional information and pictures, my teenage memories of the war would have remained just memories.
Alan
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 recollections of the War
Description
An account of the resource
Reminisces about pre-war and early war days as a schoolboy in Lewisham. Recalls events at the beginning of the war. Includes photographs of aircraft and naval ships. Continues with history of events through the war's early years including conscription, German actions in Europe, battle of France, Dunkirk and the battle of Britain. Included detailed accounts of German air force attacks. Continues with account of the Blitz, details of bomb shelters and casualties. Includes photograph of Hitler and Churchill. Describes Royal Navy attack on Taranto and includes photograph of Swordfish. Continues with German offensives in North Africa and the Balkans. Mentions his job at the Redwing Aircraft Company and joining No 1 Maintenance Unit and Barrage Balloon Centre at RAF Kidbrooke as an apprentice. Continues with more war history and details of rationing. In 1943 transferred his apprenticeship to De Havilland Aircraft Company. Discusses life during the war including bombing and people moving to the country. Mentions D-Day, V-weapons, Bomber Command operations. In 1945 was transferred to Hatfield. Goes on to describe events in 1945 and the end of the war followed by comments on American servicemen in the United Kingdom.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Alan Mann
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2008-06
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Twenty-two page printed document with colour and b/w photographs
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BMannAMannAv3
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Kent
England--London
England--Hertfordshire
England--Hatfield (Hertfordshire)
England--Herefordshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1938-05-20
1938
1939
1940
1941
1941-05
1942
1943
1944
1945
2008-06
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.
bombing
childhood in wartime
firefighting
home front
Hurricane
incendiary device
Me 109
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
RAF Biggin Hill
RAF Hatfield
shelter
Spitfire
V-weapon
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1767/32025/PHarrisonRW21040026.2.jpg
9539de156efa77d6cbccb188d3f1005e
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Harrison, Reginald Wilfred
R W Harrison
Harrison, Reg
Description
An account of the resource
13 items. An oral history interview with Flight Lieutenant Reg Harrison (b. 1922, R155986, J25826 Royal Canadian Air Force) and photographs. He flew operations as a pilot with 431 Squadron and was known as 'Crash' Harrison because he survived four crashes during training and operations.
The collection was catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2021-02-27
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. 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
Harrison, RW
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Reg Harrison
Description
An account of the resource
Reg is sitting under the aircraft before the bombs have been loaded. From information kindly supplied by the donor. 'Harrison sitting on the bomb trolley, on a bomb canister. This was a mixed load of bombs consisting of 4000lb Cookie, several 500lb bombs and the remainder were incendiary canisters. Harrison may have been contemplating what the target would be for tonights operation. The mixed bomb load indicates that one of many heavy industrialised cities in the Rhur might be in for another visit from Bomber Command.'.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PHarrisonRW21040026
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. Bomber Command
Royal Canadian Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Yorkshire
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.
431 Squadron
aircrew
bomb trolley
bombing
bombing up
incendiary device
Lancaster
pilot
RAF Croft
service vehicle
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1773/31257/PFOMetheringhamAF19040015.2.jpg
684100fa2bccc43a23bbac94734c5371
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
RAF Metheringham collection
Description
An account of the resource
131 items. The collection is from the Royal Air Force Metheringham Airfield Visitor Centre and contains photographs of aircraft, aircrew, other RAF personnel and places. Includes some target and reconnaissance photographs. Many items are concerned with 106 Squadron at RAF Metheringham and RAF Syerston.
The collection has been licensed to the IBCC Digital Archive by the RAF Metheringham Airfield Visitor Centre 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
2019-01-31
Identifier
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FOMetheringhamAF
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is property of the Royal Air Force Metheringham Airfield Visitor Centre which has kindly granted the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive a royalty-free permission to publish it. Please note that it was digitised by a third-party which used technical specifications that may differ from those used by International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive. It has been published here ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Armourers
Description
An account of the resource
Six men, most without shirts, working around a bomb trolley with cases of incendiaries in the foreground. Submitted with description 'Six 106 Sqn armourers loading canisters of incendiary bombs onto a trolley marked "ZN" in the RAF Syerston bomb dump'.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph mounted on an album page
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PFOMetheringhamAF19040015
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--Nottinghamshire
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is property of the Royal Air Force Metheringham Airfield Visitor Centre which has kindly granted the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive a royalty-free permission to publish it. Please note that it was digitised by a third-party which used technical specifications that may differ from those used by International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive. It has been published here ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre.
106 Squadron
bomb trolley
ground personnel
incendiary device
RAF Syerston
service vehicle
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1773/31244/PFOMetheringhamAF19040007.1.jpg
cc4af080c2788d82beafb6bad8e06c2d
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
RAF Metheringham collection
Description
An account of the resource
131 items. The collection is from the Royal Air Force Metheringham Airfield Visitor Centre and contains photographs of aircraft, aircrew, other RAF personnel and places. Includes some target and reconnaissance photographs. Many items are concerned with 106 Squadron at RAF Metheringham and RAF Syerston.
The collection has been licensed to the IBCC Digital Archive by the RAF Metheringham Airfield Visitor Centre 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
2019-01-31
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
FOMetheringhamAF
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is property of the Royal Air Force Metheringham Airfield Visitor Centre which has kindly granted the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive a royalty-free permission to publish it. Please note that it was digitised by a third-party which used technical specifications that may differ from those used by International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive. It has been published here ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Groundcrew, Lancaster and bomb
Description
An account of the resource
In the foreground a 4000 MC bomb on trolley. Behind, four airmen wearing battledress and side caps standing in line. In the background a Lancaster with two men on scaffolding working on starboard inner engine. Submitted with description 'Ground crew working on a 106 Sqn Lancaster and loading bombs at RAF Syerston. In the foreground there is a 4,000 lb bomb on a trolley and incendiary containers are on a trolley under the Lancaster'.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One b/w photograph mounted on an album page
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PFOMetheringhamAF19040007
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--Nottinghamshire
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is property of the Royal Air Force Metheringham Airfield Visitor Centre which has kindly granted the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive a royalty-free permission to publish it. Please note that it was digitised by a third-party which used technical specifications that may differ from those used by International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive. It has been published here ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
106 Squadron
bomb trolley
bombing up
fitter engine
ground crew
ground personnel
incendiary device
Lancaster
RAF Syerston
service vehicle
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1484/30948/MCarpenterRB149832-201102-02.1.jpg
5dbfecd87543abaf0065f43bff162212
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
Carpenter, Ronald
R B Carpenter
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
2016-02-11
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Carpenter, RB
Description
An account of the resource
27 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Ronald Carpenter DFM (149832 Royal Air Force). He flew a tour of operations as a bomb aimer with 10 Squadron and with 223 Squadron in 100 Group on electronic countermeasures. The collection contains his log book, documents and photographs.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Ronald Carpenter and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[underlined]SECRET[/underlined]
DETAILS OF WORK CARRIED OUT BY 12 O. T. U.
FOR THE MONTH OF JUNE 1942
1/2 .6.42 Wellington X3203 P/O Aickin – Pilot, F/Sgt.[indecipherable] – Observer, Sgt. Crossland – B/A, Sgt. Elliot – WT/AG, Sgt. La Fortune – R A/G.
A/C Failed to return from raid on Essen.
25/26 .6.42 Wellington DV949 F/Lt Debenham – Pilot, P/O Walker – Observer, Sgt. Carpenter – B/A, P/O Walker – WT/AG, Sgt. Gardner – A/G. Up 22.30 Down 0450.
25/26. 6. 42 Wellington DV950 F/Sgt. Levenson – Pilot, Sgt. Whittaker – Observer, Sgt. Tiller – WT/AG, Sgt. Davis – B/A, Sgt. Cox – RA/G. Up 22.30 Down 05.45.
Out of force of 20 A/C which took off to attack Bremen, 17 claim to have reached and bombed the target on E. T. A. through 10/10th cloud, dropping 11,500lb G.P. [indecipherable] incendiaries, and 3300 X 4 lb incendiaries. Attack was carried out between 01.15 and 01.20 hours. Target pinpointing was impossible through 10/10th clouds, with tops at about 7000 feet. Visibility above cloud was excellent. Aircraft Z 8800, Captain Sgt. Bagley W.J. went below cloud and bombed from 3000 feet, definitely identifying the target. 3 A/C are missing.
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
Page of 12 Operational Training Unit's F540
Description
An account of the resource
One page of the operations for June 1942, records one Wellington failing to return from operation to Essen on 1/2 June. It also records two Wellingtons successfully attacking Bremen on 25/26 June, one of them was captained by Flight Lieutenant Debenham with Ronald Carpenter as the bomb aimer. From information provided by the donor this was Ronald's first operation.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-06-02
1942-06-26
Format
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One printed page with typewritten annotations
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text. Log book and record book
Text
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MCarpenterRB149832-201102-02
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Great Britain
England--Northamptonshire
Germany--Bremen
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-06-01
1942-06-02
1942-06-25
1942-06-26
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
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
12 OTU
aircrew
bombing
incendiary device
Operational Training Unit
RAF Chipping Warden
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1181/30735/BWagnerHWWagnerHWv1-01.1.pdf
e0571529641f83a364bcf25b44a796ff
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
Wagner, Henry Wolfe
H W Wagner
Description
An account of the resource
15 items. Two oral history interviews with Sergeant Henry Wolfe Wagner (1923 - 2020, 1604744 Royal Air Force), his memoirs, documents and photographs. He flew operations as a navigator with 51 Squadron from RAF Snaith and became a prisoner of war. He was demobbed in 1946 and returned to education where he remained until his retirement.
The collection was catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-05-04
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
Wagner, HW
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[front cover]
“…. we need someone with integrity, distinction and honour …
We need someone like H W Wagner”
[/front cover]
[page break]
Extract from “Those Who Fall”, by John Muirhead, a Flying Fortress pilot. Published b Transworld Publishers Ltd., 61-63 Uxbridge Road, London W5 5SA.
“Everything happened that I have said happened, but it’s memory now, the shadow of things. The truth lives in its own time, recall is not the reality of the past. When friends depart, one remembers them but they are changed; we hold only the fragment of them that touched us and our idea of them, which is now a part of us. Their reality is gone, intact but irretrievable, in another place through which we passed and can never enter again. I cannot go back nor can I bring them to me; so I must pursue the shadows to some middle ground, for I am strangely bound to all that happened then.”
[page break]
2
[centred] Your life is waiting for you, H W Wagner. [/centred]
[centred and underlined] CARPE DIEM. [/centred and underlined]
The title is, of course, from the Latin poet Horace, of if you prefer his full name, Quintus Horatius Flacus [sic], in his book of Odes, and I will translate it for those of you who have not had the benefit of a classical education. It means “Catch hold of the day”, with the implication “and squeeze every drop of value you can out of it.” The quotation continues Quam minimum credula postero (trusting[?] the next day as little as possible) – because it might never come. While on the subject of Horace, another quotation of his seems to me to be suitable, although you may well not agree, except possibly insofar as it applies to your good self – Integer vitae scelerisque purus (a man of upright life and pure from guilt.)
Having been always interested in flying, it seems to me that life is like a take-off, circuit and landing, and I have divided this account accordingly.
[underlined] UPWIND LEG [/underlined]
The upwind leg has two parts – rolling along the runway to reach flying speed, then climbing to circuit height.
[underlined] Take-off. [/underlined]
[photograph of two young children with their mother]
I was born on 24 March 1923. In the photograph, I am the little chap in the middle. My mother on the left, of course, and my elder brother John on the right. There were destined to be two other
[page break]
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brothers after me, Richard and Brian. Richard was only a year younger than me, and due mainly to the similarity in our ages he was the one who was always closest to me, although I never had anything against the others.
[newspaper cutting]
[centred and underlined] Henry Stanhope [centred and underlined]
[centred] Henry the Seventh hits the charts [/centred]
One of the more engaging trends last year was the elevation of “Henry” to the top ten of first names, as disclosed by Mrs Margaret Brown and Mr Thomas Brown in The Times last week. It now occupies seventh place, enjoying – without the benefit of royal patronage – its most significant renaissance since the early Tudors.
To the 47 boys whose parents proclaimed their choice in the columns of this newspaper, I say “Welcome” – before adding a short introduction to the life that lies ahead of them. They should not be deceived for instance by those dictionaries of surnames which one thumbs through in W. H. Smith’s but never actually buys. These will tell you that it means “head of the house” and no doubt to the Plantaganet kings it seemed peculiarly apposite.
“Henry!” to the modern cartoonist, however, is a little man with a toothbrush moustache and half-moon glasses, washing up in a frilly apron while his virago of a wife slumbers next door in their surburban sitting room. The best portrait to be hoped for is that of an elderly Tory in hairy tweeds unloading his Scotch in the gunroom while his equally hairy wife is bullying the vicar at the village fete. The image is rarely swinging.
Nor is it a name which lends itself to some comfortable sobriquet or short-form – which, of course, is one reason why mothers like it. At school they solved it by calling me Stanhope, at college by switching to “H”. During National Service, fellow gunners, nonplussed by having a Henry in their midst toyed with “Harry” but settled for “Stan”, which struck a more agreeably percussive note in the barrack room. My first editor, on being introduced, scratched his head doubtfully and said he had a cocker spaniel called Henry. “What should we actually call you?” he asked.
At school I would gladly have swopped the dynamo on my bike for a name like Bob, or Bill or – as it was in Wales, Glyn, Gwyn, Bryn or even Geraint. Boys see safety in numbers and being called Henry was only one up on being Christopher Robin. Survival had to be fought for.
It is however a name one grows into and, in middle age, can offer some interesting advantages. It is, for instance, not easily forgotten and one which acquires a life of its own. Who would think of referring to Irving, Cooper, Kelly, Jackson, Kissinger or the fictitious Higgins (“Just you wait, ‘enry ‘iggins”) without their given name (“Christian” now being considered ethnically discriminatory)? An invisible hyphen welds them together like bacon and eggs.
There are also, as yet anyway, not enough of us in the English-speaking world to cause confusion. Having said that, it is arguable that when two Henrys do appear in the same office, battalion or school, the mix-ups are almost embarrassing.
They can also at times be quite flattering. In the elitist circles of East Coast America in the 1970s, to be called Henry was almost a passport to any dinner party in town. “There’s no disputing that Henry has a really first-class mind”, I once heard a Harvard professor say, unaware of the warm glow of pleasure he was causing six feet behind during that brief moment of self-delusion. I have never been confused with Henry Cooper, but that is perhaps because he is really called ‘Enery – though I would never do so to his face.
My “hooray!” for the 1982 Henrys is not therefore unmuted. Our image needs polishing. When someone calls “Henry” I still want to turn round – not just carry on walking like the Toms, Dicks and Harrys (no doubt corruptions of the original) who can always assume that it’s not meant for them. Back to the sink ….
[/newspaper cutting]
My mother and father were both Irish, which of course makes me Irish by birth, although later in life I took out naturalisation papers to become a
[page break]
4
British citizen. Of my father’s family I know nothing, but my mother came from an upper-class county family, the Strongs. I still have a salver with their family crest in the centre. We lived in a big house on the shores of a bay at Strand Hill, in County Sligo. The only person I can remember there is my grandfather, a grand old man with a white spade-shaped beard, who smoked a pipe. There being no such things as pipe-cleaners in those days, Richard and I brought in feathers for him, saying: “A fedder for Pa’s pike.” Regrettably, I knew little of my father; it was obviously not a happy marriage, and my parents separated when I was above five. I do know, however, that he was a man of many parts – he had a degree in theology from Trinity College, Dublin, a qualification in dentistry, and he was a well-known sporting shot, contributing to a magazine called The Shooting Times and British Sportsman. For my mother’s part, she was a keen hockey player, and also an Irish county golfer.
When I was three or so, we moved to England, for reasons unknown to me, and our first home was in a village called Sonning Common, near Reading. We lived in quite a large house called The Laurels, with a large orchard (apples, pears, plums, greengages, damsons and cherries) and a one-acre field at the back. There being no refuse-collection in those days, there was a big hole at the far end of the orchard, known as the ashpit. When it was full, another one had to be dug. In the field, my father had a clay-pigeon trap, and used to gather cronies there from time to time for shooting parties. He had a gun-room in the house, with possibly about thirty guns of various calibres, and several hundred cartridges, and Richard and I used to go in there and play – what madness to let two little boys loose among so much lethal apparatus. An old chap used to come and cut the front lawn with a scythe, and one day we threw cartridges at him out of the window, which pleased him not at all. Another room was the dental surgery, which terrified us when we were called in for treatment, as dental surgery was in its infancy in those days, and equipment was primitive. You could be sure of a painful session there. I remember seeing in one of the magazines a picture of
[page break]
5
a set of false teeth, and I thought to myself: “They don't just take out the teeth, they take out the whole top of your mouth as well.”
Two years after arriving there, my father left, and I never saw him again. My mother was left to bring up four boys on her own, with occasional financial contributions from my father, and a hard time she had of it. Heating was by means of coal fires, cooking was done on an old-fashioned range, lighting was an Aladdin pressure lamp and candles, and there was no hot water. Monday was washing-day, using a coal-fired copper, so Monday dinner was always cold meat, the remnants of the Sunday joint. Other days, it might be stew, hash, or corned beef, with rice or macaroni pudding. Breakfasts were always porridge, and tea was bread and jam, with cake on Sundays. Shopping was done at Plumb’s stores, down the road, where there were no packed foods – everything was weighed up and served separately, and there were chairs for people to sit down and gossip to the shopkeeper while the order was being made up. Biscuits came out of big tins with glass tops, butter was cut off the block. A jug was left out for Mr. Saunders, the milkman, who came round with a horse and trap and carried a small pail of milk up to the door, replenished from a big churn in the trap. An old biddy, Mrs. McCallum used to deliver paraffin from cans hanging on the handlebars of her bicycle. Sweets were a rarity, but now and again we got a halfpenny to spend, with which we usually bought a Chicago Bar, a bar of evil-looking (and tasting) toffee, but which had the merit of being very long-lasting.
One Christmas, Richard and I got a small bicycle each, known as fairy-cycles, with hard tyres, and we could safely be released to ride round the village, there being hardly any traffic on the roads. Once a week, we used to go into Reading by Thames Valley bus, for bigger shopping, and used to finish up with tea and toast in the Lyons Corner Shop.
Such was the way of life in those days, and although my mother had plenty of worries, it was no hardship to us boys. We went to the village school, presided over by “Gaffer” Forder. I did two years
[page break]
6
there, the first year in Miss Cobb’s class, and the second year moved up with the dreaded Mrs. Clayton. While at Sonning Common school, I made the acquaintance of Geoffrey Dolphin, who remained a lifelong friend.
At the age of seven, then, we moved to Henley-on-Thames, to quite a nice house in a quiet road, St. Mark’s Road. This even had the benefit of gas-lighting downstairs, otherwise illumination was still by candle. There was a large walnut – tree in the back garden, which we were always climbing. John was sent off as a boarder to the Bluecoat School in Reading, and Richard and I started attending the National School, a grim fortress-like granite building very different from a village school and peopled by hard urban nuts of a type that we were not accustomed to, so we quite often had a rough time. The Avery’s, Blackall’s and the Fowler’s come to mind. Richard went into Mrs. Plumb’s class, I being a year older went into Mrs. Piper’s class, and she was much addicted to frequent use of the cane. In fact, I got it on my first day there. Lessons in those days tended to be of the repetitive rather than the interesting variety; this particular geography lesson consisted of repeating the names of mountains in Britain, from north to south. Of course, the names meant nothing to me, nor did they, I suppose, to anyone else in the class, but those who could not remember them were lined up in front and received a stroke of the cane. The most feared teacher in the school was Mr. Ackroyd, who was even more liberal than Mrs. Piper in his dispensation of correction; at the end of “playtime”, he blew a whistle, whereupon everyone stood stock-still. At a second blast, everyone moved to a place where their number of class was painted on the playground. Then he would shout “Classed, right and left turn”, and you turned in the direction of your classroom. One day, I turned in the wrong direction, and received a stroke of the cane for “disobedience”. Physical education consisted of what was known as “drill”, and this meant standing in lines on the playground and obeying order such as “touching the toes”, “clapping hands above the head”, and “running on the spot”. What strides have been made since, in the way of gymnastic exercises with proper equipment!
After two years at the National School, when I was nine, the
[page break]
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educational system was reorganised, and Richard and I went to a junior school, called Trinity School, run under the auspices of Trinity Church, where I was married twenty-seven years later. This was presided over by Mrs. Billingham, known as Governess, and under whose instruction I first started taking a real interest in learning. At the age of eleven, there was an examination to determine who would go to Henley Grammar School and who would return to the dreaded National School, and I was relieved to be one of the successful 23%. By this time, we had moved to a council house in Western Avenue, the family circumstances having become even more [indecipherable word]. It must have been something of a strain for my mother, having to buy uniform, games kit and P.W. kit, but there was a small grant from the Grammar School foundation Trust to help those who found the going difficult. At Trinity School, I became friends with Jim Clark, who is still a good friend, and especially of Jim Davies, who lived just down the road from us. Jim Davies was a Fleet Air Arm fighter pilot, on Corsairs, during the war. Afterwards, he took a degree in law at Oxford, then worked in the Attorney-General’s office. He was killed in a Douglas DC 10 crash after taking off from Paris; a baggage-door had not been properly fastened, and it opened in flight. The ensuing decompression buckled the floor, which jammed the controls, and all aboard were killed.
This concludes the runway section, then. The aircraft is nicely on the move, has flying speed, and the way ahead, barring accidents, is clear, and there is plenty of room for manoeuvre. The next section of the circuit is the climb-out, gaining height, looking round and feeling the air.
[underlined] Climb-out. [/underlined]
The climb-out begins with the commencement of education proper at Henley Grammar School. I arrived there in September 1934, with Jim Clark. Education was undertaken seriously before the war – you had to work hard in order to qualify for a good job. I had no idea what sort of work I would eventually do, there being no careers guidance in those days. But part from
[page break]
8
the underlying seriousness, there was no worry attached to the whole business, and it was an enjoyable time. This is the little lad who started at the Grammar School at the age of eleven.
[photograph]
In the 1930’s, competitiveness was encouraged in both sport and games. Nowadays, it is actively discouraged – no sense of inferiority must be allowed to develop, even among those who know they are inferior. Any attempt to be better than the rest is frowned upon, because it would tend towards divisiveness and the creation of an elite, so everyone must conform to a lower level. But in those times, prizes were awarded for academic achievement and medals and cups given for sporting excellence – there was every encouragement to do better. So everyone worked to the best of their ability, and I do not think anyone suffered for that reason.
About the time that I started at the Grammar School, I took my first tentative steps in the world of golf. Richard was the moving spirit behind this, and we bought ourselves a putter each from
[page break]
9
Woolworths, price six denarii, and we used to take them up to a field about a mile away and just hack about. Jim Davies joined us too, and nearly all our spare time was spent in that pursuit. Balls were obtained by looking for them in hedges adjoining the gold course. Finding more than enough for our needs, we thought about how we might turn them to profit. We used to make the occasional cycle journey into Reading and sell them at a sports shop. A dozen would bring in three shillings or so (about 15 pence in modern money); later, we developed contacts among local golfers, notably Tom Luker and Bert Butler, which saved the trip to Reading. Most of the money was saved with the intention of buying a bag of clubs each, but 3d. a week was spent on the Saturday afternoon visit to the cinema and 1d. on sweets. When enough money was saved, we went into Reading and went round the Junk-shops, obtaining a bag each (and scruffy old things they were), and a motley selection of old rusty wooden-shafted clubs. And so we were in business. There was no way of joining Henley Gold Club, golf being the preserve of the upper crust, but there was a nine-hole course on a public common at Peppard, some four miles distant, where one could play for 10/6d. a year. We cycled there whenever time and weather permitted, clubs over the shoulder, sandwiches in saddle-bags. Jim Davis was with us in this venture, and you couldn’t have found a happier lot, day in, day out, through holidays. Through a good deal of my life, I have had enormous pleasure from golf, and met so many friends. Golf is a great leveller, and when a man is on the course, his wealth and social status matter not a scrap. What is important is his attitude to the game. A young American golfer of great promise, Tony Lema, who was regrettably killed in a light aeroplane crash on his way to a tournament, wrote in his book “Champagne Golf” – “Golf is the one game that really gives a man the opportunity to play the gentleman.” One does occasionally come across the other sort on a golf course, but they are not true golfers, and may
[page break]
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be disregarded.
Another activity which took up some of our time, mainly in summer, was kite-flying. The materials were inexpensive, as we made our own. My mother would cut up old curtains into large octagons, about two feet across, hem them, and stitch a pocket in each corner. All that was needed was 3d ball of string and a fishing - net. Fishing net? Yes. The net itself was discarded, the bamboo split down the middle and used to make four struts. Many an afternoon we spent sitting on the grass gazing up at the kites and giving an occasional twitch on the string. Threepenny gliders, launched by catapult, also provided a lot of entertainment while the kite string was tied to a fence.
Next - door to Jim Davies lived a young lad with the reputation of being something of a crazy inventor. His name was Reggie Cripps. One scheme he thought up was that if old armchair springs were attached to the bottom of an orange-box, it would, if dropped from a few feet with him aboard, bounce ever higher and higher. Where he thought it would all end I don’t know. A preliminary trial resulted in a dull thud. He suggested attaching a multiplicity of springs and dropping him from the roof of his shed, but we declined to participate. Another idea was that he should jump out of his bedroom window, using his mother’s umbrellas as a parachute, but his mother enters a firm nolle prosequi.
Throughout my time at the Grammar School, staff wore academic gowns, which was a novelty for me. In my first year, I made the acquaintance of Mr. Clifford, who taught me my first words of French. Boys sat on one side of the classroom, girls on the other. Next to me sat Anthony Griffiths, son of the local Baptist minister. I met him again in May 1945, in Germany. Part of the camp I was in was being moved by train, and the train was in sidings at Luckenwalde station. Walking along beside the track, I saw an officer who looked familiar, and asked if his name was Griffiths. He had been a Spitfire pilot, and was shot down on a sweep over France. Also in the same class was Dougie Blows. We used to stay behind after school, until quite late, playing Fives, and indulging in practical jokes with bicycles in the sheds. One
[page break]
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trick was to slacken off the nut, turn the saddle round and tighten the nut again. Another was to suspend bicycles up the trees, another to weave thin wire in and out of the links of the chain. A further member of the class was Nelson Swinney, who had the enviable reputation of being the only boy able to spit over the fives-court wall. In this class too I renewed the acquaintance of Geoff Dolphin, and we remained together throughout our Grammar School career.
Early on, I was given the nickname Otto, which remained with me while I was at school.
At the end of the first year, I was presented with the Form Prize, a copy of “Captains Courageous”, which I still have.
Physical education was in the hands of Mr. Clifford, and although in the gymnasium where there was some apparatus, it was not very imaginative. Sport was rugby football, which I considered a rough game and to be avoided if possible, if not possible, keep as far from the ball as you could - if caught in possession of the ball, you were likely to be done over. This attitude persisted for a couple of years, then I did get caught in possession of the ball and realised that the only thing to do was to make a run for it. Having got away with it unscathed once, I did not mind so much having a go a second time, and gradually began to enjoy the rough and tumble of the game. So much so that for my last three years at school I was a regular member of the First XV, and received rugby colours. This entitled one to wear a special cap, dark blue velvet with gold piping and tassel, when going to play in matches. I played rugby for many years thereafter, and derived as much enjoyment from it as I did from golf. I still enjoy seeing a good rugby match on television. Summer sports were cricket and tennis, but I never made much of these. I liked watching cricket, and found my niche when I was appointed first-team scorer.
In the second year, the study of Latin was introduced, taught by the somewhat austere Mr. “Fuzzy” Phillips, and I soon realised that the languages were my strong point, not the sciences. I found science interesting but did not excel at it. Mathematics I found
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very difficult, and spent many hours poring over problems on the nights when there was Maths homework. I used to retreat to the front room to do my two hours or so of homework in the evenings, illumination was provided by a guttering candle, as it was in all the bedrooms - there was only gaslight in the dining room, and that was none too brilliant. There was no temptation to skimp homework, as there was no television or any other distraction.
And so the years passed until I entered the Fifth Form, the year of the school certificate. To pass this, to get a certificate at all, one had to pass in a certain range of subjects - English language and maths were obligatory, also a language, then a choice of history or geography, then a practical subject, where I just scraped a pass in art, having minimal ability in that subject. If you did not get a School Certificate, you stayed in the Fifth Form for another year to have another rack at it. If you passed, you moved into the Sixth Form for a two-year course leading to the Higher School Certificate. The work was of a different dimension altogether, far more advanced. To get a certificate, you had to pass in two subjects at Main level and two at Subsidiary level. I took English and French at Main level, and Geography and Latin at Subsidiary level. At least, that was my intention, but the Headmaster, “Sammy” Barnes enquired why I was not also taking mathematics, having passed therein in School Certificate. “I’m no good at maths, sir”, I said. “Wagner, you’re taking maths,” he said. “Yes sir”, I replied, and I was unwillingly plunged into the calculus, co-ordinate geometry, the binomial theorem, and the like. English was in the hands of Miss Smith, a lively young thing; French was taught by the deputy head, Miss “Misery” Hunter, Latin by Mr. Darling, who also took P.E., maths by Mr. Potter, and Geography by Mr. Bryant, who was later killed in the war. I passed in all these subjects, which qualified me for University entrance.
At the beginning of the Lower Sixth year, I was made a prefect, and a year later captain of Periam House. Meanwhile, the
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13
golf had gone on pace. We played at Peppard until the end of 1937, with the occasional day on Henley golf course when we had 2:6d to spare (12 1/2 pence in modern parlance.) We knocked up the Henley professional, Bill Pedler, at 8 a.m. to pay the green fee (which pleased him not at all), played one round, then another half a round, had the sandwiches which we brought with us, finished that round, played another round, went home for tea, and played another round in the evening - 72 holes in one day - good value for 12 1/2 pence. At the beginning of 1938, we enquired about joining the junior section of the club, but this was beyond our means. However, they would admit us to the Artisan section for £1, which we gratefully accepted. A full 18-hole golf course and no more bike-rides over to Peppard. And we made good use of the course, being on it at every possible opportunity.
September 1939 and the war came. It was not unexpected, but to us boys it did not mean a great deal. We expected it to be over quite quickly, never dreaming that we would become embroiled in it ourselves in the fulness of time. Preparations had been going on for some time in the past - gas-masks had been issued, evacuees came from London (and to our horror stooped so low as to dig in the bunkers on the golf course as if they were on the beach.) This was the beginning of my second year in the Sixth Form, working for the Higher School Certificate. To pass this you had to get six units (two for a subject at Ordinary level, one for a subject at Subsidiary level, get them any way you liked.) I took an extra one, Mathematics, at the instigation of the Headmaster (I see I got this slightly wrong on the previous page, but now have the certificate for your kindly perusal.) Studies were somewhat interrupted by the fact that we had to share our school premises with a school evacuated from London, Archbishop Tennyson’s School. We worked in the mornings, they had the place in the afternoons, leaving me free in the afternoons to sneak off occasionally for a game of golf. Also, Richard and I bought a folding two-seater canoe, on instalments, paid for with money we earned finding golf-balls, and we often
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took it out on the Thames when weather permitted.
To go back to the day war was declared, Sunday 3 September. We listened to the sad announcement by the Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, on the radio (or wireless, as it was called then), at 11 a.m. Shortly afterwards, the air-raid sirens sounded, and gas-masks were brought to the ready - nobody knew what to expect. It was a false alarm though, and soon afterwards we settled down for our Sunday dinner. Then Richard and I set off over the golf-course. It was completely deserted except for us two. At one tee, adjoining the road, we were taken to task and heartily condemned by a passer-by for indulging in a frivolous pursuit at a time of national catastrophe, but it is difficult to see how we could have helped by staying at home. With the departure into the Services of most of the greenkeepers, labour was short, and Richard and I volunteered to go over on Fridays and mow a few of the greens for week-end play, as did other members of the Artisans. Big shots among the Artisans in those days were Bill Steptoe, Cyril Moss (handicap 1), Alf Smith, Percy Clayton, and George Piggott (“I can’t never ketch ‘old o them shots, I can’t, no, not them shots”, speaking of the lofted chip.) I understand his feelings, because I am not much of a dab at them either.
My elder brother, John, went into the Army, the rest of us were still at school. Rationing began to bite; breakfasts were usually scrambled dried egg, dinners either sausage-meat or fish, and tea was bread and jam. We each had our own pot of jam (1 lb. / month), and we would sit miserably at teatime wondering whether or not to have another slice and keeping an eye on the level in other people’s pots. There was also some very dubious meat or fish paste about.
And so we made our way into 1940 and the end of my school career. I had by this time made up my mind to go to University and subsequently into teaching. There was no careers guidance in those times - you had to make up your own mind what you would like to do. I was accepted for Reading University, travelling in each day by bicycle (7 miles), and home in the evening, in all
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15
weathers. At this time I made the acquaintance of Ken Ablewhite, who had gone to the University the year before, and we used to do the journey together.
[page break]
[university shielf]
UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
LOCAL EXAMINATIONS SYNDICATE
HIGHER SCHOOL CERTIFICATE
This is to certify that HENRY W WAGNER of Henley Grammar School
Passed the Higher School Certificate Examination in July 1940 having satisfied the general requirements of the examination and having reached the standards shown (Advanced, Ordinary, or Subsidiary) in the following five subjects:
French Ordinary
Geography Ordinary
English Subsidiary
Latin Subsidiary
Mathematics Subsidiary
Index number 570
Place of examination Henley
Date of birth 24 March 1923
[signature]
Vice-Chancellor
THE BOARD OF EDUCATION accept the examination as reaching the approved standard.
Signed on behalf of the Board of Education
[signature]
Assistant Secretary
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We used to leave home at 8 a.m. in order to arrive for the 9 o’clock lecture, work till 12.30, have lunch in the Buttery, work again in the afternoon (usually in the library, as there were no afternoon lectures), have tea in St. David’s Hall (tea, toast and jam, and a lardy cake), then work in the evening until about 8 o’clock. It called for a good deal of self-discipline – you could waste an awful lot of time if you were so minded. Geoff Dolphin, whom I have mentioned before, also joined us at the University. In the first year, I had to study four subjects, two of which would be subsequently dropped. I took French (Professor Dessignet[sic], Dr. Bowen, Miss Paton, Miss Dale), Latin (Mr. Cormack), Geography (Professor Miller and Miss Campbell) and Logic (Professor Hodges). This first year course was called Intermediate Arts. In the sporting line, I played rugby, and even did a bit of rowing.
In the summer of 1940, before going to the University, I worked on a farm with Ken Ablewhite. Labour was scarce, and farmers were glad of anyone who could help them out. The days were long and tiring, but the work was very satisfying, especially as there were a couple of lively land-girls working there as well – Pat Pepper (as hot as her name suggests), and Mary Kew. We indulged in turnip-hoeing, sheep-dipping, silage-making, and harvesting until it got too dark to work any more. Dick Green, the farmer, used to lend me a 12-bore when the corn was being cut, and I supplemented the meat-ration at home with quite a few rabbits.
At the University, the men all enrolled in the Officers’ Training Corps with a view to joining the Army. This was not at all to my liking, but I did it because everybody else did. Wednesday afternoons were given over to training, wearing Army uniform, and consisted of drill, weapon-training, tactical exercises, etc., under the supervision of Captain Gillett and Sgt. Major Warwick. After a few months, an Air Training Corps was started, and I thankfully transferred to that. Flying had always been a great interest of mine, and the A.T.C. was much more to my liking. The Commanding
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Officer was Professor Miller, with the rank of Squadron Leader, but he knew little about the Air Force. All the administration was done by a regular R.A.F. Officer, Flt. Lt. Jordan. He had been shot down in a Hurricane and was badly burned about the face. He was assisted by Sgt. Linton, a W/Op Air Gunner, who had been shot down in the desert and had walked back to our own lines. He mounted a Vickers Gas-operated machine-gun in the grounds, and always manned it when the sirens went, hoping for a crack at a low-flying German aircraft.
As I said, flying had always interested me, and I had my first flight five years before the war began. It was just a matter of good luck, as paying for a flight was obviously not on. Sir Alan Cobham’s air circus was due to come to Henley in 1934, and by way of publicity coupons were printed in the Henley Standard, the first to be drawn out to be awarded a free flight. I went round all the hours in the neighbourhood asking if I could have their coupons, and sent in a whole batch. One of them brought home the bacon. The flight was in an Armstrong-Whitworth biplane which seated about 12 people, and lasted for some 20 minutes, over and around Henley. The next flights were undertaken when I was in the University Air Squadron; Flt. Lt. Jordan used to put up a list in the week of those wanting to fly on Sunday afternoon. He allocated the flights as equally as possible. We flew in various 2-seater Miles aircraft from Woodley aerodrome.
After working at Dick Green’s farm in the summer of 1940, Ken Ablewhite and I bought a motorcycle each. I got a 150c.c. Royal Enfield two-stroke for £15 and Ken got a 150c.c. Excelsior for £17.10.0d. Neither of us had ever ridden a motorcycle before, so the dealer that we got them from took us into an alley that ran behind his yard and explained the process and let us have a go for a few minutes, then he turned us loose to ride them back to Henley, without any tax, insurance or driving licence. Now and again we used them to go in to the University, but not often, as there was not much petrol allowed on the ration. Before long,
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I changed my Royal Enfield for a 250c.c. O.K. Supreme, a 4-stroke, which was a great improvement.
[photograph of Henry]
Photograph taken for identification purposes on joining Reading University Air Squadron.
[photograph of Geoff Dolphin]
Re the photo of me taken for Air Squadron purposes:- a pupil at the Queen’s Girls’ School, Wisbech, saw it and said: “Cor, I wish I’d ‘a knowed you in them days, Mr Wagner.” I said: “What’s the matter with me now, then?”, and she said “Well, it aint the same, is it.” I signed, and said: “No”.
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[photograph] Family photograph taken in 1940. Me in the blazer, next to my brother John. Brian on the right and Richard on the left. [/photograph]
And so we move on into 1941, in the summer of which I took, and passed, the Intermediate Examination of Arts. I started keeping diaries about this time, and some of them are still to hand, so I have many reminders of details which I would otherwise have forgotten. I note, for instance, that the air-raid siren was a frequent occurrence, even in the daytime, but there was never anything near Henley. The nearest bombs, and they were only small ones, fell at Doble’s farm, Shiplake, about three miles away. In this second year at the University, I took up cross-country running, and was a regular member of the team. Matches took place on Saturday afternoons, usually with two other teams from other universities taking part. The distance was 8-9 miles, and I noted, on one occasion “going was easy at first, but rather hard after halfway, mainly over soaking boggy ploughed fields and wet muddy lanes.” The 1941 diary is remarkable to me now for the amount that I managed to cram into each day. While actually at the University, every possible moment was spent working, often until 9 p.m. or later. And yet I seemed to go to the cinema at least twice a week and play golf at least twice, with swimming canoeing and a multitude of other activities
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thrown in, particularly at week-ends and in the vacations. In the summer, I worked again with Ken Ablewhite on Dick Green’s farm.
In September, having passed the Intermediate Arts examination, I returned to the university for one more academic year, to take First Year Finals in the summer of 1942 – call-up into the Air Force was deferred until after that examination.
On 8 December 1941, the Japanese attacked the American fleet at Pearl Harbour, and thereafter a state of war existed between Japan on the one hand and America and Britain on the other.
After the Christmas term ended, I worked in the Post Office at Henley, sorting letters and parcels. Extra staff were always taken on in the run-up to Christmas, and the pay was very welcome.
In June 1942 I took First Year finals and reached an acceptable standard, studying French with subsidiary Latin. This left one more year to complete the degree course, but there I had to leave it. For me, that completed the upwind leg. The circuit had been planned out reasonably well and everything seemed to be in working order. I knew where I was going, barring accidents, attacks by Gremlins, and that sort of thing, but there was the matter of the war to be dealt with first, and this constituted for me the
[underlined] CROSSWIND LEG. [/underlined]
Towards the end of August 1942 (the month in which I got the only hole-in-one I have ever had, playing a friendly game on Henley Golf Course with one David Mitchell), my call-up papers arrived and I duly reported to the Aircrew Reception Centre (ACRC, known as Arsy-tarsy) at St. Johns Wood in London. After a medical along with other members of the University Air Squadron, we were moved to a big block of what were before the war luxury flats (although there was not much luxurious about them then) called Viceroy Court, at Regents Park, to await events. It was the normal practice for prospective aircrew to be sent to an Initial Training Wing (there was one at Ilfracombe), but since we had done our initial training in the University Air Squadron, we were spared that, and went to a holding unit at Brighton, billeted in the Metropole Hotel, right on the front,
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which had been taken over by the Air Force for the duration. While there, I had this photograph taken. They must have done a brisk trade at Empire Studies because all the Air Force personnel seemed to patronise them.
[photograph]
People say to me sometimes: “Why did you join up? You were of Irish nationality and therefore not under any obligation.” But I felt that this was now my country, and that the obligation did exist. Then they say: “Well, why volunteer for aircrew then?” But the adventure of flying always enticed me; I felt that that was a job I could do as well as the next man, and that therefore there was no excuse for chickening out. Admittedly, there was not much chance of coming safely out at the other end, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles.
After a fortnight or so, postings came through to various Grading Schools. These were elementary flying training schools where prospective pilots or navigators were given a 12-hour course on Tiger Moths. Most were hoping to be pilots, of course, but instructors decided on suitability. I went to Brough, near Hull, and came under the instruction of Flying Officer Rothbone (later killed when a pupil landed a Tiger Moth on top of the one he
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was taking off in.) I went solo after 9¾ hours, about the average time, and was graded as a pupil pilot.
From Brough, I went on leave, and then back to Brighton again, this time billeted in the Grand Hotel. The time there was spent in drill, P.T., signals, aircraft recognition, navigation, armament, and clay-pigeon shooting. After some three weeks there, we were warned for posting, and one night, left Brighton on a special train which drew out at 2.30 a.m., arriving at Heaton Park, Manchester, at 11 a.m. Heaton Park was where those on overseas posting awaited their draft to a ship, and was a miserable hanging-about restless sort of place. Manchester is a rainy place anyway, and this was in January 1943. It was usually fog-bound and gloomy, and I was in a billet in Salford, some miles from the camp, a damp dingy tenement. Thankfully, I was not there long before my draft came through, and proceeded by train to Blackpool. All those on draft were dispersed round boarding-houses with typical seaside landladies. Tropical kit was issued, so we knew we were off somewhere warm. Three kit-bags had to have numbers and names put on in Indian ink – ordinary, flying, and tropical. That evening, Lee was one of the first away for the evening’s drinking; Bassingthwaite never got away at all. The time at Blackpool was spent just hanging about waiting – attending lectures, drill, route marches, going to the cinema, and that sort of thing. Finally, after about three weeks, towards the end of February, orders came to move. We went by train to Liverpool, marched to the docks, and embarked on a troopship, the S.S. Strathmore, 23,000 tons, and got organised on board, initiated into the process of slinging hammocks. These were slung from bars in the ceiling, and were difficult to get into because they were inclined to throw you out again. Also, the bars were too close together, with the result that you head was looking directly across at your feet. I soon gave up hammock-slinging, and laid mine out on the floor, but I was on the lowest deck of all, below the waterline; one of the propeller shafts ran just under the floor and thumped – thumped away all night, so sleeping was not the rest it should have been. The next day, the ship set sail from the Mersey and headed out round the north of Ireland.
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The sea was green and rough; almost everyone was seasick, and the evening meal was tripe and onions swimming in milk. There were not many takers. Life on board was pretty leisurely – there were a few lectures, frequent action-stations practice, but most of the time was spent reading and talking, and just sitting in the sun as the weather got progressively hotter. The ship was not in convoy, but sailing alone with one destroyer escort. It went far out into the Atlantic, then turned east, and ten days later land was sighted, and we entered harbour at Freetown, where the heat was stifling. There were many other ships in the harbour. The destroyer released depth-charges outside the harbour, having presumably detected a submarine. Three days later, the ship put to sea again, and in another fortnight arrived in Durban, South Africa. We then went by train to the Imperial Forces Transhipment Camp at Clairwood, just outside Durban. South Africa was a new world to all of us, far removed from the austerity of England. There was no black-out, and the shops were full of things unobtainable at home. The first things I bought were a big slab of chocolate and a tin of sweetened condensed milk, both of which I consumed as soon as I got back to camp. I used to go to the cinema every day in Durban with Peter Taylor and Maurice Gregson, and often we went swimming. Only one other thing stands out in my mind about that time, which was an organised visit to the Lever Brothers soap factory. I have always enjoyed visits to factories – Huntley and Palmers biscuit factory in Reading, Fry’s chocolate factory in Bristol, the Tusker Brewery in Nairobi.
After some ten days at Durban, we entrained for a two-day journey up through the Drakensberg mountains to the high veldt, to get another holding unit at Nigel. This was on an aerodrome, on Advanced Flying Training School where pupil pilots trained on Oxfords. A week later, postings came through, and we were dispersed to various Elementary Flying Training Schools to train on Tiger Moths. I came under the instruction of a South Africa officer, Lt. Goddard, not the easiest of men to get on with and somewhat anti-British. Circuits and landings was the first part of the programme, for which
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We flew about 20 miles to Rietgat, [sic] a small auxiliary aerodrome, just a part of the Veldt fenced in by barbed wire. Apart from circuits, the flying was done from the main aerodrome at Kroonstad, Orange Free State. Eventually, I had a solo test with Lt. Hooper, and did two solo circuits, going on later to solo steep turns, spins and loops. Three thousand feet was the statutory minimum for loops, but I always went up to four, being a great believer in plenty of height. They always say that the two most useless things in flying are height above you and runway behind you.
When I had done 10 1/2 hours solo, an incident occurred with Lt. Goddard which put paid to my aspirations to becoming a pilot. We flew to Rietgat [sic] and carried out various exercises, then Lt. Goddard said: “Just do one solo circuit, Wagner, then we'll go back to Kroonstad. Don't take long over it, because I'll have another pupil waiting.” He took out his control-column, secured the straps, and off I went. As I said, it was a very small field, and as I came in over the wire, I could see I was too high, so I opened up and went round again. This time also I could see I was too high, and opened up again. I saw Lt. Goddard standing in one corner of the field waving his control-column in the air and obviously in a rage. The third time, I was on the high side again, but I thought to myself that I had to get down at all costs. The Tiger Moth ran and ran – having no brakes, I could not arrest its progress, and it stopped about two yards from the wire, too close to turn it under power. So I undid my straps, got out, caught it by the tail-skid, pulled it back a few yards, turned it, got back in, and taxied back to where Lt. Goddard was waiting. “Right, Wagner,” he said, “fly me back to Kroonstad and make a good job of it because it is the last time you'll be at the controls.” And regretfully that was the end of my pilot training. I was “washed out”, as the saying went, and was, of course, very disappointed. Within three days, I was on my way to Roberts Heights, Pretoria, where I was re-graded as a Navigator. The three weeks I spent there were just time-wasting, doing odd jobs and often going into Pretoria to the cinema, waiting for a vacancy at a Navigational Training School. Eventually, a posting
[picture of Tiger Moth “I could fly one of these before I could drive a car”.]
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came through to 43 Air School, East London, which was quite a long way off. The train journey was through some spectacular scenery, down through the mountains to the coast. This was an Initial Training School where the rudiments of navigation were taught. I was, in fact starting again from scratch. Here, I met Graham Walker, who had been at the University Air Squadron with me, and who had been graded as a navigator from the start, and we kept together. For the first three weeks, nothing much happened, and Graham and I spent most of our time in town, going to the cinema, or swimming in the Indian Ocean from Orient Beach. We did quite a lot of P.T., had a few rugby games and had a lot of rifle and ordinary drill. While doing rifle-drill one day, the Station Warrant Officer, W/O Barnett came out to watch. He was a big fat man with piggy little eyes, a most unpleasant character. Observing the manoeuvre “Put down-arms”, when the rifle had to be laid on the ground, he remarked: “you bloody lot remind me of a lot of Waafs getting down on a jerry”, and I thought to myself: “What a common man, what a low lad.” Eventually, the course proper started, with lectures on DR navigation, plotting, meteorology, armament, signals, radio-navigation, aircraft recognition, compasses, and astro-navigation. This was all very concentrated stuff, and lasted for ten weeks, ending with an examination.
At the end of the course, postings came through, and I went with two friends, Graham Walker and Dave Wright, on an overnight train journey down the coast to Port Alfred, a small town miles from anywhere. This was where the practical navigation was done, interspersed with lectures. We were billeted in tents. There was a beautiful beach, almost deserted, where huge rollers came in from the Indian Ocean, picked you up and tumbled you along through the surf. There were sharks outside the line of breakers, so you had to be wary about going any further out.
the Flying Training was done in Ansons, with South African Air Force pilots. Their Ansons did not have hydraulics on the undercarriage, and it had to be wound up by hand, which was an awful chore. All right letting it down though. On alternate flights,
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one was either first or second navigator; the first navigator was responsible for plotting, wind-finding, working out courses, ground-speed and time of arrival, while the second navigator did photography and obtained fixes and bearings using the Astro Compass (which was not a magnetic compass but more of a bearing-plate) – all very well in the clear daylight skies of South Africa, but not likely to be much use in Europe where the ground was mostly obscured by cloud and everything was blacked-out at night. Also the second navigator took sights on stars, using a sextant, but astro fixes were far from reliable. Sights had to be taken on two stars and the readings converted into position-lines, using the Air Almanac. It took about 20 minutes to get a fix plotted, by which time you were about 40 miles further on.
And so the course went on until the middle of December. There were written examinations in all subjects. The last flight was a long navigational exercise, from the eastern side of the country to the western, and was by way of being a celebration. Base – Uitenhage – out to sea – George – Oudtshoorn, - Youngsfield (just outside Capetown). We stayed two days at a hotel in Capetown, and were disappointed not to be able to go up Table Mountain, as the weather closed in. We flew back to Port Alfred, and that was the end of the course.
[Picture of The Lagoon, Port Alfred]
On 23 December 1943, the passing-out parade took place, and brevets were pinned on with all due formality.
[Navigators Brevet]
Sergeant’s stripes were sewn on later onto best blue, battle-dress and greatcoat. That evening, there was a flight dinner at the Bathurst Hotel in Port Alfred. The traditional services Christmas dinner took place on the 25th, all serving being done by the officers.
[Air School logo on menu]
43 AIR SCHOOL
PORT ALFRED, South Africa
Christmas, 1943
DINNER
Fried Stock Fish and Butter Sauce
Roast Turkey and Boiled Ham
Roast Potatoes
Boiled Potatoes
Green peas
Cauliflower and White Sauce
Christmas Pudding and Brandy Sauce
Fruit, Nuts, Sweets, Mince pies,
Beer
Toast: Absent Friends
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We left Port Alfred on Boxing Day, for the 2½ - day journey back to Clairwood Camp, Durban. There was the usual splitting-up of friends on posting, but by this time I was in company with Leslie Shawcross. This Shawcross had crashed on a low-level map-reading exercise, when the pilot flew too low and the aircraft skated across the countryside, so he had had a narrow escape, very nearly being yet another of the many thousands killed in training.
[photograph] ‘No. 5 Air Navigators Course’ [/photograph]
And so we move on into 1944. At Clairwood, we were members of the Sergeants’ Mess, and this was quite a luxurious place, with very good food and a bar. There was plenty of free time and no harassment, as we were just waiting for a ship back to England. We were not waiting long – on 6 January we embarked in Durban Harbour on the S.S. Arundel Castle, 19,000 tons. We were on an upper deck this time, sleeping in bunks instead of hammocks. Unfortunately for me, mine was the top of a stack of four, right under an emergency light which had to be left on all night and shone directly onto my face. Furthermore, a card-school gathered below and played all night, with frequent calls of “Twist”, “Bust”, “I’ll see you,” so sleep was intermittent. Life aboard was generally very leisurely, with the
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occasional gun-crew, look-out or messing duties, and most of the time was spent reading, talking or seeing cinema shows.
On 7 January, we were tugged out of Durban Harbour, and steamed around waiting for the convoy to assemble. On 12 January, we entered Mombasa Harbour; little did I know I would be there again 23 years later. We left that same day, headed out to sea and then turned north. On 17 January we entered harbour at Aden, left the next day and steamed into the Red Sea, and thence to the Gulf of Suez, where we anchored. Aircrew destined for the Middle East disembarked here, mostly South Africans.
A pilot, Flt. Sgt. Fillmore, lent me a book of Tennyson’s poems, which I enjoyed reading over and over again. My favourite was The Song of the Lotos-Eaters, and the most poignant is Crossing the Bar, which you will find at the end of this book. I have always liked reading poetry (proper poetry, that is, not what passes for poetry these days), and am quite happy reading again through old friends in An Anthology of Modern Verse. Think of all the philosophy of life wrapped up in this one:-
[centred and underlined] IF [/centred and underlined]
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors[sic] just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
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Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling
Back to Port Suez – no, that wasn’t its name, it was Tewfik. Although the ship was anchored some two miles off-shore, an all pervading smell of burning tar and sulphur wafted out over us, its purpose being, so we were told, to counteract an outbreak of bubonic plague on shore. The ship steadily filled up with naval and R.A.F. personnel heading for home, and there was little room to move about. On 2 February, we entered the Suez Canal. About half-way along the Canal, it passes through the wide expanse of the Bitter Lakes, and it was the practice for north and south-bound convoys to pass each other at this point. There was a lot to be seen there – ex-Italian warships, submarines, flak-ships, army camps, gun-positions. All those aboard the troopship were able to indulge in the luxury of
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shouting abuse and obscenities at Military Police on guard at the gate of an army camp, about twenty yards away. The Canal is very narrow, and there was only about ten yards to spare on either side of the ship. At Port Said, after passage through the Canal, we took on oil and water from tankers, joined a convoy of four other troopships and three destroyers, and moved out into the Mediterranean. Torches and emergency rations were issued, as the northern coasts of the Med. were still in German hands and there was still enemy activity, although by this time the North African coast was in our hands. This coast was plainly visible to port, between Tobruk and Benghazi. Four days later, the coast of Sicily was sighted. The rest of the convoy went off to Italy, and the Arundel Castle was Stirling Castle entered harbour at Port Augusta. We left next day, joined a new convoy, and headed west, the next stop being at Algiers for one day. This was the last stop on the way home. We passed the lights of Tangier to port, went through the Straits of Gibraltar, round the north of Ireland and into the Mersey. Disembarked immediately, and proceeded by train to Harrogate. There was not much to be done there – kit inspection, medical, documentation – and at the end of February I went home to Henley on leave, for three weeks, returning to Harrogate thereafter.
After a few days at Harrogate, a posting came through to Whitley Bay, Northumberland. This was yet another holding unit. Aircrew were churned out from the training schools, then gradually moved up the line as vacancies occurred, heading inevitably for the squadrons – there was always an ample pool of trained men to draw upon. In Whitley Bay, we were billeted in ex seaside boarding houses, run by typical seaside landladies, and very sparsely furnished, food to match. There was much hanging about, parades, kit inspections, route marches, drill and lectures. On one occasion, even, I was detailed to dig the front garden of the boarding-house. I was not sorry to leave Whitley Bay.
The next posting was to an Advanced Flying Unit at West
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Freugh, near Stranraer, in Scotland. There was, of course, more waiting about while things got organised – lectures on the Browning gun, firing it on the range, dinghy drill, hydraulic systems of aircraft, flying control, night-vision, beacons and occults, radio procedures, astro, parachute drill, and “airmanship” (which covered just about everything). Here, I made the acquaintance of “Biff” Brewer, so-called because he was a keen golfer. Fortunately, the Sports Officer was also a keen golfer, and he often gathered together a few officionados and took us to Portpatrick Golf Club, where the professional had sets of clubs which he loaned out. It was a good course, along the cliff-tops, from where you could see Ireland across the water. There was a flying-boat base at Stranraer, and Sunderlands could be seen taking-off and alighting in the lough.
At West Freugh, these photographs were taken. They were intended to be handed to resistance groups in the event of being shot down, to aid in the preparation of false papers. These were known as [indecipherable word] photos.
[three facial photographs]
Flying training was done on Ansons on this course, an extension of the work done in South Africa, but under more difficult conditions. The weather was much worse, and on night-flying there were no lights to be seen, only the beacons and occults, and more use had to be made of radio bearings. The routes were generally N.W., over the Irish Sea, where there would be less traffic, a typical one being Base – Ayr - Rathlin Island (N. Ireland), - Dungannon – Peel (Isle of Man) – Base.
This course lasted six weeks or so, then the next posting was to an Operational Training Unit at Abingdon. There were talks
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on new aspects of navigation, such as navigating on the climb and descent, and on Gee, a radar device which enabled the navigator to get an instant and very accurate fix – no more need for getting position-lines and transferring them as necessary. There was much practice in plotting in the navigational trainer. There were also talks on the German Air Force, and other Intelligence matters, and on Escaping and Evasion.
At Abingdon, crewing-up took place. Twenty pilots, twenty navigators, twenty bomb-aimers, twenty wireless-operators and forty gunners were assembled in a hall and left to their own devices. It was up to each one to slot himself in, and in the end twenty crews emerged. My own crew consisted of :-
Warrant-officer Wilfred Bates – pilot (Newcastle)
Myself as navigator. (Henley-on -Thames)
Sgt. Leslie Roberts – bomb-aimer (Liverpool)
Sgt. Jack Jones – wireless-operator. (Lampeter, Wales)
Sgt. Thomas Worthington – mid-upper gunner. (Liverpool)
Sgt. Robert Thomas – rear-gunner. (Whitehaven)
There was no need for a Flight-engineer at this stage, as training was carried out on Armstrong – Whitworth Whitleys, which only had two engines. Later, on Heavy Conversion Unit, we were joined by Sgt. Eric Berry (Sale, Cheshire).
The Whitley was a heavy bomber in service at the beginning of the war, but since superseded. It was not a pleasant aircraft to fly in, being very cramped, cold, lumbering, and having no radar navigational equipment. Also it was very difficult to get out of in an emergency. The wing chord was very thick, the two wings being joined by a narrow tunnel across the fuselage, through which one had to crawl to reach the escape-hatch, encumbered by heavy flying-gear and a parachute-pack. It was engined by two Rolls-Royce Merlins. The Whitleys we trained on were tired and worn-out, and would not get above 12,000 feet.
As runways were being laid at Abingdon, we moved to Stanton Harcourt, a satellite for Abingdon, and flew from there.
[picture of Armstrong – Whitworth Whitley.]
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[photograph] Warrant-officer W.A. Bates. Pilot.
[photograph] Sgt. L.G. Roberts. Bomb-aimer.
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[photograph] Sgt. T.W. Worthington. Mid-upper gunner.
[photograph] Sgt. E. Berry. Flight-engineer.
The flights in the Whitley were, of course, longer than those in the Anson, a typical one being Stanton Harcourt, Newquay, Milford Haven, Stanton Harcourt, about 4 1/2 hours, including an hour or so on the bombing-range. One trip I have noted shows some of the difficulties that could be encountered : “Took off in fine weather 10.30, but ran into cloud half-way to Newquay. Started to descend, but the
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cloud got lower and thicker. Climbed to 12,000 feet, but icing started, so went down to 7,000 feet, still in cloud. Spotted a hole in the clouds, and went down through it to have a look. Identified position as Falmouth. Headed north, homed along the St. Eval beam, landed, and had dinner. Took off again 1500, and flew low along the coast, looking upwards at the cliffs of Hartland Point as we passed. Cut inland at Burnham and flew eastwards via Swindon through low cloud and bad weather, back to Stanton Harcourt.”
Apart from the long trips, there were many shorter ones, such as practice on the bombing-range and fighter affiliation, and quite a few navigational trips in Ansons while pilots were on familiarisation on the Whitleys.
The OTU course finished early in August; we returned to Abingdon, and a couple of days later went on leave. After leave, the next posting was to 4 Group Aircrew Training School, Acaster Malbis, near York. Being now in 4 Group meant that we would be operating on Halifaxes. Training School it might have been, but it was in fact yet another holding unit. Nevertheless, there were lectures on many diverse topics, such as broadcast wind velocities for bombing, pathfinder techniques, pyrotechnics, oscilloscopes, dinghy radios, hydraulic systems, German targets, flak, H2S, air-position indicator, homing on Gee, airborne lifeboat, - all good stuff.
The next move was to 1652 Heavy Conversion Unit, Marston Moor, near York. Here, we were introduced to the Handley Page Halifax, Mark III, on which we would be operating. Pilots had to learn the technique of flying a large four-engined aircraft, and the rest of the crew had to familiarise themselves with their positions in the aircraft and new equipment, as well as the general layout of the aircraft, such as flare-chutes, escape-hatches, oxygen equipment etc. The Halifax was engined with 4 Bristol Hercules sleeve-valve engines, and its all-up weight was some 30 tons. It did not quite match up to the Lancaster in performance and weight-lifting, but it was a good airman’s aircraft, solid, robust, and very dependable – it could take more knocking about than a Lancaster. It cruised at about 230 knots indicated airspeed when light, 210 when loaded. Fuel consumption was .9 air
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miles per gallon, and could carry about 5 tons of bombs, depending on the distance of the target. The bomb-load was usually mixed - perhaps one 2000 pounder, two thousand-pounders, four 500 pounders, and the rest made up of incendiaries, either 30-pounders or canisters of 4-pounders. The aim being to knock the target about and then set fire to it.
Here, we were joined by Sgt. Eri Berry, flight - engineer, and were now a complete crew of seven.
[photograph]
The first few Halifax flights were for W/O Bates to learn how to handle the Halifax and get used to doing so, including 3-engined flying, and for the bomb-aimer to drop practice-bombs on the range, so there was not much for me to do - just keep tabs on where we were. Even if lost, it was easy enough to get a Gee Fix and give a course for base. Air - to - air firing, for the benefit of the gunners, took place out to sea, beyond Flamborough Head. Flying was often cancelled through bad weather, or because of unserviceability of aircraft, since these were rather tired ex-operational aircraft, or ones
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which had been damaged by accidents. After about a fortnight of this sort of thing, the time came to venture further afield. The first attempt was a failure - Base S/C climbing to 16,00 feet - March - then the port inner engine packed up, so the propellor was feathered and we returned to base. It was another fortnight before we did a navigational trip again, the only flying in the meantime being night circuits. Much of the time in between was spent going into York to the pictures with one or more of the crew, or drinking in the Boot and Shoe or Spotted Ox at Tockwith, the nearest village.
A typical cross-country was Base - Darlington - Goole - Bury St. Edmunds - Market Harborough - Coventry - Nottingham - Base, but equipment of some sort often went wrong - one of the engines, Gee, H2S, DR compass - involving an early return. Sometimes we did not even get off the ground , as equipment proved unserviceable on being tested, or flying was cancelled at the last moment. If anything went wrong with the flying of the aircraft, there was a very efficient service known as Darkie (you couldn’t get away with that name nowadays.) The procedure was to call Darkie, and on enquiring the nature of the emergency , type of aircraft, whether heavy or light (i.e. bombs on or not), they would give a course to fly to the nearest aerodrome which could accept the aircraft, and monitor your progress to it. One such occasion reads “after 20 minutes, port inner packed up. Called Darkie, and landed 2125 at Bottesford, near Nottingham, a Lancaster Conversion Unit. Reported in at Flying Control, drew blankets, had supper, and turned in. Left 1340 the next day and flew back to base.”
At the end of the Heavy Conversion Unit course, the sausage-machine churned out the next, and final, posting, which was to 51 Squadron at Snaith, not far from Doncaster. We were now a fully trained crew, ready to be let loose on the Germans. All the crew were billeted together in a Nissen hut, which was shared with one other crew. Most of the daytime was spent in the Navigation Section or in the Bombing Section with Robbie, doing nothing in particular, playing draughts perhaps, or Chinese Checkers. The radio was always playing, a popular tune at that time being “Would you like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar…..” I became heartily sick of that tune, and still dislike it even now. Another
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popular tune was “I hate to see that evening sun go down” (true enough), and, prophetically, “Don’t fence me in.”
The first few flights were familiarisation of various sorts - practice bombing, air-to-air firing, fighter affiliation. On the first flight, we did 3 circuits, then a tyre burst, so that was the end of that. On the first cross-country, which was up to Scotland, down to the Isle of Man and back to base, bad weather prevented us landing there, and we were diverted to Melbourne, returning to Snaith the next day. The next cross-country was Base - York - Belfast - Liverpool - Sheffield - Base, and was for practice in using the navigational aid H2S. If you will look back to the picture of the Halifax, you will see a bulge under the fuselage back towards the tail. This contained a rotating scanner. When radio waves were transmitted from it and hit something vertical, they were reflected back and showed as white patches on the appropriate receiver at the navigator’s position. Thus towns showed up extremely well and could be identified from a special map. Open ground showed up quite well; from water, there was no return. Controls on the set enabled the navigator to get his bearing and distance once the pinpoint was identified. Here is a photo of the H2S screen taken on a cross-country, while heading out over the Irish Sea. It says on the reverse “29.10.44 // 14,000 feet. 282˚ T. ISLE OF MAN. Range marker 10 miles. Sgt. Wagner.”
[photograph]
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The white patch towards the bottom is the northern tip of the Isle of Man. The white line going towards the left is the aircraft’s heading 282˚ True. The black line in the centre was over the northern tip of the Isle of Man when I took the bearing, which was shown on a rotating ring round the outside of the screen. The large circle was the range-marker, which I had set at 10 miles - 10 nautical miles, that is - we never worked in m.p.h. and statute miles, but knots and nautical miles.
Here is an example of a navigator’s log, and it gives some idea of how unremitting a navigator’s job was. An X means that the fix was obtained from H2S. The first fix is shown as X 173 YORK 13, which means that the aircraft was on a bearing of 173˚ from York, and 13 miles from the centre.
[missing photograph]
For the benefit of those of you who know nothing of the navigator’s craft, I will give a very brief description of the bare essentials. If you pointed a car at a destination on a limitless extent of tarmac, and proceeded at a set speed, you would arrive at that destination,
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and you would know how long the journey would take. Not so in an aircraft. The aircraft is suspended in a moving body of air, and where that air is going, the aircraft also goes, in the same direction and at the same speed, as when you have a goldfish in a bowl of water, so due allowance has to be made for wind speed and direction. “Well, once you know the wind speed and direction - - - - .” All very well, but first you have to find out what it is; then, it keeps changing, so you have to go on finding out what it is. Why does it keep changing? Imagine flying from A to B across an area of low pressure (see digram.) The wind-pattern in areas of low pressure is as shown by the arrows.
[diagram]
A comparison between where the aircraft actually is and where it would be if there was no wind gives the wind speed and direction, but it constantly needs updating.
Furthermore, the speed of the aircraft varied considerably through the air (and so over the ground), depending on height. Air becomes less dense the higher you, so there is less resistance to the aircraft flying through it. And density, of course, varies with the temperature - the warmer it is, the less dense, so temperature had to be taken into account as well. To complicate matters even further, aircraft on operations did not maintain a steady height for long; if they did, it would make matters easier for the Germans - they could inform their night-fighters of the height of the stream, and also fuse all their anti-aircraft shells for that height. So almost all navigating had
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to be done on the climb or descent. This meant that not only was the wind changing because of the particular weather pattern but was also different at different heights, as was the airspeed. So the navigator had to calculate and estimate what was likely to happen, without much hard information to go on.
Of course, on an operational sortie, the bomber-stream approached the target by a roundabout route, never heading towards it till the last few minutes, to keep the Germans guessing. Even then, it might divide say ten minutes before H-hour, and attack two different targets simultaneously, to divide the night-fighter force. There might be five or six different ‘legs’ to fly before reaching the target. Supposing the distance “out” was 600 miles, if you did not arrive within three minutes (early or late) of your allotted time, the Station Navigation Officer would want to know all about it. He would likewise be none too happy if at any time, “out” or “home”, you had strayed more than three miles off track. It was, of course, in your own interest to stay exactly on track – safety in numbers – night-fighters would prefer to catch solitary stragglers out of the main stream.
Pilots had a small route-map with the turning-points lettered, and I often got the query: “Pilot to navigator. Where are we, Wag?” and I would answer, for instance: “Leg[?] C to D, about 1/3 of the way along, on track, half a minute late.” It must have been monotonous for him sitting up there looking out into the darkness, turning as directed, but not having the faintest idea of how it was going or where we were. Although the bomber-stream contained several hundred aircraft, you never saw another one until in the vicinity of the target. You know all about navigation now, do you? Well done. As you appreciate, navigation was not on exact science, but more of an approximation. The art of the craft, if I may so put it, was to reduce the uncertainty and keep it within tolerable limits. Overleaf, you will find a letter taken from Picture Post, a popular magazine of the time, written by a member of a bomber crew, appreciating the navigator’s work.
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[newspaper cutting] The Key Man of a Bomber Crew
I am an American serving with the Royal Air Force, and have been serving since the outbreak of the war. Being a member of a bomber crew, and really knowing what goes on, I’m amazed at the way the British Press, including yourselves (“The Last Hour in a Lancaster,” May 15), refer to certain members of the crew as the “key man.” There is a “key man” in a bomber, but it isn’t the flight engineer, pilot, rear gunner, or wireless operator – it is the man whom Bomber Command refer to as the “key man”, namely, the navigator.
When we are flying over enemy territory, I often look at the other members of the crew (who, by comparison, are having an easy time), and then look at the navigator, who is working from take-off to landing. I realise then that it is from that map-strewn table that my destiny is controlled. The control column may be the nerve centre, but it is the navigation table that is the brain of an aircraft.
An Ally, R.A.F. Station, Somewhere in England. [/newspaper cutting]
To return to Smith, 16 November 1944. Woken 0740 by an airman and navigators were told to report to the Navigation Department for preliminary briefing for operations. This was so that navigators would know the target in advance (being warned to keep their mouths shut about it), and be able to get part of their work done beforehand. This consisted of marking turning-points, drawing in tracks on the charts, measuring the compass bearing of each and the distance, and seeing that everyone was in agreement. Then we had breakfast, at 0920, and went to the Briefing Room at 1000, with complete crews, for the main briefing, attended by the Commanding Officer (Wing-Commander Holford), Navigation Officer, Bombing Leader, Met. Officer, Intelligence Officer and Armament Officer. Afterwards everyone repaired[?] to the locker-room and put on flying gear. This consisted of inner quilted flying-suit, outer gaberdine suit, flying boots lined with lambswool, and parachute-harness. Contents of pockets were handed in, helmet, goggles and oxygen-mask picked up, as well as three pairs of gloves (woollen, silk, and leather gauntlets), microphone and intercomm[sic] lead. I carried the gloves only for use in emergency, in case of fire, and goggles for the same reason. If so desired, one could draw a revolver and six rounds, which I always did. You never knew when it might be needed; one of the great fears was coming down in the target area, where the natives would be vicious, and five rounds could be used on the Germans, the last one being kept for personal use. * So, with all this gear and parachute-pack and navigation bag containing all the necessary equipment (pencils, rubber, ruler, charts, Douglas protractor, dividers, Dalton computer), I repaired to the aircraft (C6A) together with the rest of the crew. We took off at 1250 and did a Radius
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Extract from “The Bomber Battle for Berlin”, by Air Commodore John Searby DSO DFC, published by Airlife Publishing Ltd, 101 Longden Road, Shrewsbury. [inserted in red] COPYRIGHT? [/inserted in red] [inserted] Applied for and granted. [/inserted]
Confidence in the skill of the navigator came only second to that placed in the captain: This aspect of the work of the crew has not always received the prominence it deserves, though somewhat earlier in this narrative I have made the statement that Bomber Command stood or fell by the quality of its navigators; and this is true. To be ‘lost’ over enemy territory was a frequent occurrence in the early days of the bomber offensive, as we have seen, but the consequences were nothing like so frightening as later on when the night sky was stiff with opposition. With a multiplicity of aids available after 1942 and in the context of a streamlined technique with Pathfinders to light the way there and back such incidents were few. However, on some occasions, when windspeed at altitude was unusually high, it could happen and could be damaging in the sense that security of the crew was impaired – seemingly – and those not in the know, such as the gunners, were entitled to feel anxious. We all took the navigator for granted – both captains and the remainder of the crew alike – he had the answers and was expected to produce them at the drop of a hat. A competent and confident navigator was a powerful factor for morale from first to last – courage, determination and the will to press on in the face of flak and fighters was one thing; but only the skill of the navigator could ensure that the effort was taken to the [indecipherable word] spot. The demands on his services were frequent, and we all heard with relief the familiar voice over the intercom on the way home: “Dead on track, Skipper – you should see the coastline in a few minutes – you can start letting down any time now.” A shaky navigator could be an uncomfortable thought in the minds of the rest of the crew – so much depended on him, and whatever the situation he must remain cool and capable of using his head quickly to calculate the new course to get us out of trouble. With punctured tanks, and the fuel running low, a single mistake on his
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part could result in a ‘ditching’ on a winter’s night with a rough sea below: likewise, he could run us over heavily massed defences such as the Ruhr perimeter by miscalculation. When the unexpected arose he was the first to be asked if we were still on the correct track and if not, then why not? Like the policeman – his lot was not a happy one.
And another reference later on:-
Navigators bore a heavy responsibility in getting aircraft to the target. Theirs was an unenviable task, subjected to a constant barrage of noise, working in the worst possible conditions, interrupted occasionally by enemy action and ‘nagged’ not infrequently by requests for information; they were expected to remain oblivious to all external alarms.[?]
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of action. This was necessary so that the whole squadron could set course over base at the same time. In order not to have a lot of aircraft milling about in the circuit at the same time, each navigator was given a track outward from base, towards the NW, each a few degrees different from one another so that aircraft coming back did not collide with any still outward bound. It was up to each navigator to determine his course to fly to maintain that track, and how long to fly it before turning to arrive over base at the appointed time of departure. In this case it was 1340, and the target was Julich, a small town not far from Aachen, only just inside Germany, being used as a supply and transit centre for the front-line forces, so we were not long over hostile territory. Bombing height was low, 10,000 feet. There was a little flak and no fighters. At the same time, a force of Lancasters was attacking Duren, a similar town a few miles to the south. It was an uneventful trip, but very effective, as this clipping from next day’s Daily Telegraph shows:-
[newspaper cutting] Two Rhine Towns Written Off
Photographs of Duren and Julich taken two days after they were attacked by very forces of R.A.F. bombers on November 16 show a close concentration of bomb craters almost without parallel in any previous attack by the R.A.F.
The centres of both these recently fortified towns, which were among the main defences of the Rhine, have been completely destroyed. [/newspaper cutting]
The following day, bombing photographs were on the board in the Intelligence Room. A camera was always operated a certain number of seconds after the bomb-release was pressed and took a photo of the point of impact. Our photo was in the centre, and enlarged, and showed the best strikes of the squadron, 200 yards from the centre of the town.
The second operation took place on 18 November, and was another daylight trip. The target was Munster. Navigators’ briefing was before breakfast, main briefing after. Took off 1245, radius of action, and set course 1325. Flak was light, no fighters were seen. Munster was covered by cloud. Concentration appeared poor on this attack. A word here about target-marking. There were two methods, Newhaven and Wanganui. Newhaven was used when the target was clear of cloud.
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Pathfinder “illuminators” would go in first and drop white flares, by whose light the second lot of pathfinders could identify the aiming-point. As near to this as possible they dropped the appropriate marker-flares. There were several different sorts – red shooting yellow stars, green shooting red stars etc. - and bomb-aimers knew which to look for. This did not give the Germans time to confuse the issue with their own flares some distance away. Most large German targets had decoy sites a few miles away where fires were often lit to simulate and attack, and these did a [sic] times attract a number of bombs. Wanganui marking was used when the target was obscured. Pathfinders dropped parachute flares upwind of the aiming-point, or rather upwind of the centre of the town. These burned for two minutes or so, and bomb-aimers aimed at them. This method was obviously not so precise as Newhaven, but it ensured a good spread of bombs, hopefully in the target area. Flares had to be continuously renewed throughout the attack. Always, some pathfinders were Wanganui-equipped, just in case the target could not be seen. So, after, at briefing, the instruction was: “Newhaven, with emergency Wanganui,” If all else failed, and nothing could be seen, bombs could be dropped by making use of the navigational device Gee. This was accurate to within 1/4 mile or so, and was therefore acceptable for this purpose. The bombsight was not used, and bombs were released on instructions from the navigator. Gee, however, could not be used on distant targets; it depended on signals sent out from England, and was susceptible to jamming. As one proceeded further away from the transmitting stations, the signals became weaker, and more difficult to identify, and on the cathode-ray tube gradually disappeared among all the clutter provided by the Germans. On some raids, a Master Bomber would orbit higher up, watching progress and giving instructions. There was a natural tendency for bomb-aimers to release the load a few seconds early, and this progression led to a “creep-back”, so that the Master Bomber had to advise a change of aiming-point. I heard once an instruction from
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him: “Apple Pie to main force. Bomb upwind edge of smoke.” And then later, when we were on our way home:” Well done, chaps. Now get off home and have your breakfast.”
On return from the Munster attack, Warrant Officer Bruce crashed in collision while waiting to land. After putting all the gear away, crews were de-briefed by specialist officers who took notes on how things had gone, and anything unusual that might have happened, and while this was going on, mugs of thick cocoa were provided, and tots of rum. I always took the rum neat, but there were some who tipped it into their cocoa, and almost unbelievably some who refused it altogether. After this second operation, we went on leave for ten days, during which Bob Thomas, our rear-gunner, got married.
Two days after return, operations were notified, the target being Essen, in the Ruhr. Navigators' briefing took place at 8 p.m., main briefing at 11. Took off 0226, radius of action, set course 0311. Usual route, base - Reading, - Beachy Head – over to France. Arrived over target 2 minutes late, bombed Wanganui flares 0539, arrived base 0823. De-briefing, breakfast, went to bed and slept till 5 o'clock. Heavy flak, some fighters in the target area, and this would be a suitable juncture to digress for a few words on flak. Intelligence knew where the heaviest concentrations of flak were, and aircraft were routed to avoid them, but there was no dodging it on the approach to, and over, the target. Bombing heights usually varied from 21,000 to 18,000 feet, different waves being allocated different heights. The Germans, knowing this, could only spread their shells about, barrage fashion, filling the sky with as much explosive as possible, in the hope of catching someone at random. The greatest concentrations were naturally north, west and south of the target, and it was not possible to avoid them. You could not go over the top because the aircraft, loaded, would not go high enough; you could not go round the outside because fighters lurked there, and anyway everybody would be coming in at different angles, causing collisions galore; you could not go underneath because of the risk of “friendly” bombs falling on you. So the only thing you could do was get your head down and run the gauntlet hell for leather through the middle, hoping that nothing
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had got your name on it. I only looked out twice over the target; it was like a fairground on Saturday night – target indicators, fires burning, photo flashes going off, anti-aircraft shells bursting, searchlights. After that, I just didn't want to know, preferring the scholarly calm of the “office.”
Here, I attach an account of the briefing for the Essen raid; you will see how much intricate organisation went into planning an attack. [account missing]
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Following the briefing and report on the operation, there are notes on some of the many devices used to outwit the Germans. References to “Window” may need some explanation. These were strips of metallised paper, cut to the wavelength on which German radar operated; each strip gave off briefly an echo on their cathode-ray tubes, the same as an aircraft did, with the result that their screens were hopelessly confused and it was impossible to pick out individual aircraft. It was first used in the fire-storm attacks on Hamburg, and vastly reduced flak casualties. There were two sorts, the broad and the narrow, the second working on night-fighter frequencies. Here is a strip of the narrow. [inserted]
The following night, there was an operation on Duisburg (docks and transport.) It was an uneventful trip. Took off 1640, radius of action, set course 1714. Base – Reading – Beachy Head – France – Duisburg. Surprisingly, flak negligible, no fighters. Bombed 2006 on Wanganui flares, arrived back at base 2340, supper, and into bed 0100.
The next operation was two nights later, on Hagen, in the Ruhr. Set course 1814. Over Reading, the port inner engine failed, so we went NE and jettisoned the bombs in the North Sea beyond Flamborough Head, and returned to base.
On Monday 4 December, there was a short local trip, down to Derby, followed by a blind bombing run on York, using H2S. A further word about H2S here. It was quite accurate on a fairly large target (provided it had been positively identified first – not much use though in a large conurbation such as the Ruhr.) The bombs were released on instructions from the navigator. I did not like using H2S for any purpose, and steered clear of it except in case of necessity. German fighters were known to home onto its transmissions, so I left it switched off as far as possible.
At this juncture, it would be appropriate to digress for a while (with your kind permission, of course), and describe briefly the modus operandi
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of the German night-fighter force. The ever-increasing activities of Bomber Command forced the Germans to withdraw large numbers of fighters from other fronts, so there were plenty of them about, mostly in Holland, northern France and western Germany. The single-engined types were Me 109’s and FW 190’s; the twin-engined were Me 110’s, Me 210’s, a small number of the later Me 410’s and most effective of all, Ju. 88’s which started out early in the war as bombers but were later converted largely to night-fighting. The single-engined aircraft operated on a system which the Germans called “Wild Boar”; they were vectored onto the bomber-stream and left to their own devices, to find and attack as best they could. The twin-engined operated on the “Tame Boar” system and came under close control from the ground; they were also equipped with radar, so that once they latched onto a target they were hard to shake off. The two standard methods of evasion were a violent “corkscrew” or a violent diving turn to port or starboard. Knowing that its presence had been detected, a fighter would often go and try its luck elsewhere, trying for a more unwary victim.
Now, if you had taken the trouble to read that list of various devices in the plastic envelope a couple of pages back, you would have noticed the one called Mandrel. Aircraft of 100 Group (Counter Measures), usually Stirlings (which were not fit for bomber operations because they could not get up very high), flew a “race-course” pattern out in the Channel, jamming the German Wurzburgs, which were long-range radar detectors. The Germans therefore knew that a raid was pending, but did not know where the main force would emerge from behind the screen. So they had two radio beacons a long way from each other, called Otto and Ida, and fighters orbited these beacons waiting for the main force to manifest itself, and when It did, half of them anyway were in the vicinity. It became the practice for the R.A.F. to insert a Mosquito among those orbiting these beacons, and he might be lucky enough to get a couple before they rumbled what was going on, and dispersed. At any rate, it made them nervous and threw them out of gear. This operation was known as a Mahmoud. There were many other operations designed to
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deceive and disrupt - a Mosquito would lurk near every fighter aerodrome, and catch fighters taking off or returning to refuel. “Spoof” raids would be taking place by smaller forces on widely-separated targets, or just several aircraft dropping target-indicators and then nothing else happened.
In the second half of 1944, the Germans hit upon the most effective way of dealing with a bomber once it was found and identified, so simple that it is amazing it was never thought of before, and it was a long time before anyone twigged what was happening. Early in the war, more aircraft, notably Wellingtons, had a turret underneath, but the fitting of these was discontinued, so there was no protection from below. Two tail-warning and downward-looking radars, Monica and Fishpond, were fitted, but these were removed when it was found that the Germans were homing onto them. Realising that they had a clear field from underneath, the German Fighter, invisible against the dark background below, would gradually increase its height until it was some 150 to 200 feet below the bomber, with the bomber silhouetted against the lighter sky above and its exhaust flames clearly visible. On the same course and at the same speed, the bomber was a sitting duck. German twin-engined fighters had a cannon sticking out through the roof, and the gunner could let rip with a no-deflection shot. They always aimed for the starboard wing-tanks, not the fuselage where there would be a risk of detonating explosives on board. Having thus set the aircraft on fire, they departed in reach of other prey. They carried no tracer among their ammunition, so that there was no give-away, and a bomber seemed to others round about just to catch fire for no apparent reason.
To return to Snaith. On Tuesday 5 December, the warning was given at 1130 for operations that night, the target being Soest, on the eastern edge of the Ruhr, which meant flying all the way round the industrial and heavily-defended complex. Main briefing 1415, out to aircraft, back for alterations to the flight plan, out to aircraft again, took off 1700 and set course 1800. Arrived over target 2 minutes late. Bombed on Gee, as the bombsight was unserviceable. Flak heavy over Hamm on the way in, light over the target. Arrived back at base 0200, a nine hour trip. Four
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aircraft went missing on this attack.
The following night, operations were laid on against Osnabruck. Took off 1600, set course 1625. Down to Reading at 2,000 feet, and saw Henley on the port side on the way. Passed over Reading bridge when workers were on their way home and the lights of vehicles were clearly visible. The sky was full of aircraft heading S.E. Climbed through icing cloud, proceeded on time over France and so to the target, one of the first aircraft in. Bombed on Gee. Out north over Holland, arriving back at base 2210, a six-hour trip. Flak very heavy over target. Eight aircraft missing from this attack.
The next day we did dinghy-drill in a reservoir, very cold, wet and muddy. On the 9th we did a practice flight, three simulated bombing runs of York, followed by practice-bombs on the range. On the 10th, roused at 0245 for operations, but cancellation came through after main briefing, the target being Bielefeld (presumably the viaduct.) This was laid on again next day, but cancelled again when everybody had got their flying-kit on. On the 12th, an operation was laid on against Essen. Flight-planning 1200, main briefing 1330. Took off 1600, set course 1620, bombed on Wanganui flares 1939, and arrived back at base 2200. Heavy flak in target area, as was to be expected over the Ruhr. Six aircraft failed to return. On the 15th, an operation was laid on against Dortmund, but later cancelled.
On the evening of the 17th December, briefing took place for an attack on Duisburg at 2230, then we had supper. Took off 0300 on the usual route via Reading and Beachy Head, and out over France. The weather deteriorated rapidly, wind velocity rose to over 100 knots, and the meteorological forecast was very wrong, so that the main force became widely scattered. Tried to make up a bit of time by cutting corners, but nevertheless arrived over the target seven minutes late. No marker flares were seen - with that wind velocity they would not have been much use, so we bombed using Gee. Soon after turning for home, we were set upon by a twin-engined fighter, which was driven off three times by our gunners. There followed a short interval when he seemed
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to have gone elsewhere, but such was not the case.
Here, I will digress once more (“what, again? Oh, all right then, if you must.”), and consider the possibility of surviving a tour of operations, I have already indicated that they were not very great. A tour consisted of 30 trips; average losses about 4%, therefore after 25 trips, a man was statistically dead, and therefore again the average man could expect to last 12 or 13. Some of course went on their first and some on their thirtieth, and obviously you needed a lot of luck on your side - it was not so much a matter of skill as of luck - a flak shell could catch any crew, no matter how skilful. As to the attitude of aircrews in general, there was a certain amount of fatalism involved, induced by the perithanatic situation in which they found themselves. I hope you will bear with me while I explain perithanatic for the benefit of lesser mortals than yourself. It comes, of course, from the Greek “peri” meaning ‘around’ (perimeter, peripatetic, periscope), and ‘thanatos’ meaning ‘death’ (euthanasia), and psychologists say that when in this situation there is an acceptance of what is going to happen and it ceases to worry. Personally, I never saw in others any evidence of fear - apprehension, yes, but not fear. When I say that the average man could expect to last 12 or 13 trips (i.e. rather less than half a tour,) this is borne out by the overall statistics of Bomber Command for the whole of the war - some 100,000 men flew with Bomber Command, and 57,000 were killed (i.e. rather more than half.) Today being Remembrance Sunday, I am reminded of a remark by Richard Dimbleby, commenting on the service at the Cenotaph: “Those that took the wings of the morning, or set their course by the stars into unimaginable dangers - - -.” The hazards were well enough known, though, “and their name was legion, for they were many.” - flak, fighters, mechanical malfunction, icing, cumulo - nimbus clouds and lightening, base fogged in on return, shortage of petrol, collision, fire, to name a few. In church the preacher, Canon [deleted] one indecipherable word [/deleted] [inserted] Hartley, [/inserted] an ex-prisoner of the Japanese, said: “I wonder how long Remembrance Day will go on. Until, I suppose, there is nobody left who remembers.”
To return to the situation in which we found ourselves. After
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three or four minutes there was a series of rapid thumps from the starboard wing, and almost immediately the Flight Engineer said: “Wilf, we’re on fire.” I looked back from my position down in the nose, and could see that there was a roaring mass of flame where the wing-root joined the fuselage and that the situation was obviously beyond control - burning petrol swilling in from the tanks, round the oxygen bottles, which would explode in due course. There was only one thing to do, which was to get out, and that right speedily, because one of two things was going to happen in a very short time - either the tanks would explode or the main-spar would melt and the wing would fall off. So even before the order came to abandon the aircraft, I was already buckling my parachute pack onto the harness. My seat, on springs, folded itself against the starboard wall when I stood up; I kicked away the legs of the navigation table, which folded itself down onto the port wall, leaving an open space on the floor with the escape-hatch in the middle. This was the way out for the three of us in the nose - myself, bomb-aimer and radio-operator. The mid-upper gunner would use the entrance - door half-way back down the fuselage, but the turret was difficult to get out of, and it took time. The rear-gunner would swivel his turret and drop out over the end, but again the turret was not easy to get out of, and furthermore his parachute pack was stored in the fuselage outside the turret. The pilot and flight-engineer would use whichever exit they could get at most quickly. I opened the hatch, raised it above the vertical, lifted it off its hinges, and dropped it through the hole. I then sat on the forward edge of the hatch and dropped through. A few words of explanation about how the parachute harness was designed. The pack was clipped onto two buckles on separate straps which came down from the shoulders and were attached to the main harness-straps by two pieces of string. The intention was that when the parachute opened, the string would snap, the pack would swing upwards, and you were left suspended from the shoulders. As I dropped through the hole, though, the pack
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caught on the rear edge, snapping the string, so that by the time I was in free fall, the pack was way up above my head, and to make matters worse the release-ring was facing backwards, so that I had to scrabble about to find the release-ring behind the back of my head. It was a relief, therefore, when there was a violent jerk as the parachute opened, and I was safely on the way down. The aircraft had been at a height of 14,000 feet, and the descent would take about 1/4 hour. After a few seconds, there was a whoomph as the tanks blew up, and I did not know whether anybody else had got clear. There were flashes of light and a rumbling in the distance, which I took to be thunder, but realised later were anti-aircraft fire, also, it was raining hard. As a factual observation, and with no intent to blow my own trumpet, there was no feeling of fear or panic in me - fear only comes when one has an alternative, and in this case there was not one, there was only one thing to do - rather a feeling of annoyance that when I got down I was going to be caught and stuck inside for the rest of the war. One of the advantages of being the navigator was that I had a pretty good idea of where we were; I knew we were over the British side of the lines, but knew also that there was a strong westerly wind which would probably carry me back inside Germany. If you take an average wind-speed on the way down of 80 m.p.h., I was going to drift some 20 miles. It was about 6.30 a.m., and still dark - perhaps just a hint of daylight - “dawn’s left hand was in the sky” (Omar Khayyam) - so I could not see where I was going to land, and in fact plunged down through branches of a tree and hit the ground. The advice was that when you landed, you were supposed to roll your parachute up and hide it. I realised that this was not on, as it was draped over the tree; furthermore, it was an apple - tree in the back garden of a house, and the curtains in one of the bedroom windows parted and a face peered out. So I took off my life - jacket, dumped it, and went down the side path and out of the front gate. Turning left, I heard the sound of marching feet approaching, so I turned right, and in a few minutes was out of the village and in open country. It was now getting light, and the thing to do was to find concealment wherein to [deleted] ly [/deleted] lie up for the day. Soon I found a wood of fir trees, and took
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refuge. First, judging by the sound of gunfire from the west, I knew I was in fact inside Germany. Then I examined the contents of my evasion-pack. This was a flattish plastic box, slightly curved to fit inside the thigh-pocket of a flying suit. It contained a map on silk, razor, rubber water-bottle with a packet of Halazone water-purifying tablets, energy tablets, Horlicks tablets, barley-sugar and chewing-gum, also a small compass of about 1” diameter. And there was a small slab of nut toffee.
My clothes were by this time wet through, and it was cold as well, so I did not have a comfortable day. Set off walking south, as soon as it was dark, keeping clear of the roads and going across country, over ditches full of water, through fences. The intention was to walk into France where I might make contact with the Resistance, and knowing the language would be a help. At daybreak, heavy rain came on again. Hid in a small fir plantation, after taking off wet flying-suit and boots, but could not sleep due to cold and general discomfort. Children with their mother and a couple of dogs passed within a few yards of me, but apparently did not see me. I ate three Horlicks tablets, one piece of toffee and a piece of barley-sugar, which I planned to be my ration for two weeks. It was a bad time of the year for evasion, there being nothing in the fields in the way of berries, fruit or vegetables. I drank from streams or troughs, using the water-bottle and purifying tablets. Set off again at dusk and walked till about 4 a.m., then came across a barn and stepped inside. As soon as it was properly light, I saw that there was a loft full of hay, with a ladder leading up to it, so I went up there, took off wet flying-suit and boots, stuffed them with hay, burrowed well down, and went to sleep. Not that stuffing them with hay did any good – they were still wet and cold when I put them on again. Pushed on again when it was dark, over the waterlogged fields. At daybreak I saw what appeared to be a dilapidated farmhouse, and I approached it with the intention of sleeping therein. It was occupied though; a middle-aged woman came out, and must have recognised me for
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what I was. Obviously, though, she was not in any position to cause trouble; I followed her inside and made sure there was nobody else in residence. She indicated I was to sit at the table, and gave me a few small apples, two slices of bread and two cups of coffee. It was by now broad daylight, so after leaving, there was not time to look for a good place of concealment[?]; the best I could do was a copse with wet brambles in it, so I hid up there for the day, although it was only half a mile or so from the farmhouse and one could expect the German woman to alert the authorities. There was not much sleep that day because I kept waking up with severe cramp, induced no doubt by wearing wet clothes for so long. I decided it was no use going on south, the distance being too great, so I turned back north towards Holland. The reasoning was this :-
[diagram]
There was no way of getting through the lines by going due west – anyway, the River Rhine was in the way, and that would be well-guarded. However, the British advance northwards into Holland had been very rapid, and looked like continuing, so I thought I would head NW round the corner in the lines and either hide up or maybe fall in with the Dutch resistance until the fighting moved on further north. An outside chance, but any chance is better than none.
That night, 21 December, it rained hard again. Towards dawn, I wandered about looking for somewhere dry to sleep. Stayed for a while in a shed beside the road, then it stopped raining so I carried on for another three miles. Found a stack of loose straw, so I dug some out and made a cubby-hole in the side, climbed in and went to
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sleep for the day. Got out at dark, put on flying suit and set out again. That night, it froze, and my flying-suit, being wet, froze stiff and the zips would not work so I could not get at my ration-pack. Suffered pains from cramp again. Walked all night, breaking ice on puddles to drink from. By this time, for various reasons all added together, I was getting light in the head and not thinking very clearly. I came to a railway embankment and climbed up. When I got onto the track, I thought: “This is stupid, all I have to do is walk along till I come to a station and get a train home.” So I turned left and walked along the track for about 20 minutes; seeing the lights of a station ahead, and hearing voices, brough me to my senses, so I got down off the track and pushed on. At daylight, bedded down in a partly-cut wood of fir trees. American bombers passed overhead. Pressed on again at night, and without thinking what I was doing, went through a village instead of skirting round it, as usual. At the far end, there was the click of a rifle-bolt, and a voice: “Halt, wer da?”, so I knew that was the end of my run. “Englische flieger,” I said, and the reply came: “Hande loch[?]”. I had run into a sentry-post. The soldier approached and indicated with his rifle that I should go into the post, which was a dug-out about ten feet square, entered by going down some steps. In it, there was a table, a chair, a bench, and it was heated by a wood-burning stove and lit by a pressure-lamp. The sentry was an oldish chap, well-meaning and obviously not one to make life difficult – he didn’t want any trouble, and I was in no state to give him any anyway. I patted the chest of my flying-suit and said: [five foreign words] and he indicated I should put it on the table, meanwhile keeping me closely covered with his rifle. He indicated also that anything else in my pockets should be put on the table. After that, the atmosphere became less strained, and he provided me with a bowl of soup. Then, seeing my clothes were wet, he told me to take them off and he hung them in front of the stove to dry, giving me his
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blanket to wrap round myself, and indicating that I should lie down on the bench and go to sleep. In the morning he permitted me to shave, using the razor from my evasion-pack, and then gave me a slice of bread and some of his meat-paste. As I said, not a bad old chap at all. By this time, his relief had arrived, and being apprised of the state of affairs, went to fetch another man. With this new man and the old original guard, I walked 8 km. to a fighter aerodrome at Alpen. This was on Christmas Eve. I was taken into the Officers Mess and subjected to all sorts of questions (but not of an operational nature) by those gathered therein. None, as it happened, could speak English, but one spoke French, and he translated for the rest. He asked how many times I had been over Germany, and when I said “eight”, he said that was nothing, he had been over London 66 times. They were interested in my flying gear, and also in the contents of my evasion pack. They gave me some of their dinner, which was a sort of spaghetti bolognese, but I was shunted aside into an alcove to eat it on my own. I was then handed over to their Service Police and made to sit on a stool in the middle of the room, watched over by a surly individual with a rifle. After several hours of this, my back ached, so I moved the stool against the wall, but an outburst and rifle-waving indicated I should stay where I was put. That night, I slept down in a warm cellar, locked in.
The next morning, that is on Christmas Day, I left Alpen with one guard; we walked five kilometres, then got a lift in a car to the nearest station and went by electric train to Dusseldorf. This was one of the R.A.F.’s main targets, and was much knocked about. On the platform I noticed a rat-faced little man going from person to person, talking to them and indicating me with a nod of the head. A few started drifting in my direction, and I didn’t like the look of things at all, but the guard saw what was happening as well and unshouldered his rifle, which caused them to lose interest. Bomber-crews were known throughout Germany as terrorflieger – (terror-flyers), which
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I used to think was unfair, as we were only going about our lawful business, and I don’t suppose German Airmen considered themselves as terrorflieger when they were bombing English towns. On the other hand, one can understand the attitude of civilians. The carpet-bombing of German towns was aimed at breaking the will of the nation as a whole to continue the war, by means of terror and destruction – any factories, military installations or transport facilities were a bonus unless they had been specially pinpointed for attack.
We waited for an hour in the waiting-room, then got a train to Frankfurt-am-Main, via Hagen and Giesen; Giesen had at one time been subject to attack, as the sidings were littered with smashed goods-wagons. It had started to snow by this time, and it was bitterly cold in the train. Civilians sitting opposite were much interested in the nature and qualify of my flying-gear, especially the boots. On detraining at Frankfurt, we walked a few km. to the Aircrew Interrogation Centre at Oberursel and I was handed in to official custody. My flying-gear was all taken away, except for the boots, and I was shoved into a cell in solitary confinement. The cell measured about eight feet by four; there was a bench along one wall with a blanket, a small barred window high up, and a light which never went out. There was a radiator below the window which came on at times during the day, but was off at night, so that it was hard to sleep because of the cold, and to make matters worse, footwear was taken away at night. There was a spyhole in the door, and beside the door, a handle. To go to the toilet, one pulled this handle, which caused a signal-arm to clang down in the corridor outside; this brough along a guard who escorted one back and forth. Outside each cell was a box containing sheets of toilet-paper; the first time, I took two sheets, but it was made very plain to me that the standard ration was just one. Hard luck on anyone who happened to be suffering from a common prisoner-of-war complaint known as the squitters or
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screamers. The daily allowance of food was four slices of bread, one plate of soup and two cups of warm weak coffee without sugar or milk. I presume the object of this solitary confinement, without seeing any one else and with absolutely nothing to do was a sort of weakening-up process, to make one more willing to talk when the time came for interrogation. It didn't bother me a lot, though, as I have always been somewhat solitary by nature.
After two days, I was taken out in the evening and up to a comfortably-furnished softly-lit room, smelling richly of cigar smoke, where an officer started off with general small-talk, then came to Air Force matters. The Geneva Convention states that all a prisoner is obliged to do is give his number, rank and name, which I did. He asked how long it was since I was shot down, and I saw no harm in answering that correctly, but when he said “That would be the night of an attack on Duisburg”, I thought I had said quite enough, and when he asked about squadron number and type of aircraft, I said: “You know I can't give details such as that, sir.” He persisted for a while with other questions, then gave up, and I was taken back to the cell for another couple of days, returning to the same interrogation room and interrogating-officer as before. This time, the approach was somewhat different. He began by remarking on the fact that I wore no identification discs. There were two of these, one round red one and one oblong green one with the corners clipped off. The were made of some sort of fibre, and the red one was fireproof. They were normally worn round the neck, but the string on mine had broken the day before the last flight, and I was intending to renew it when I got back. The dialogue went something like this:-
“There are two things that worry me about you, Sergeant Wagner. Here we have one single man in R.A.F. uniform who cannot, or will not identify himself, and who moreover claims a German name. How do I know you are who you say you are? Some details of your last flight might help to clear things up.”
(I could see what he was getting at – a veiled threat – but I
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explained the matter of the identity-discs, and said I could say no more.) He continued: -
“The second thing is that here we have an airman who has been wandering about in Germany for six days, claiming to have been shot down, but we have no others of the crew, and to crown it all, no wreckage of an aircraft that he came from. How do you explain this?”
“I jumped out over Holland and drifted back into Germany on the way down. Presumably the aircraft disintegrated over British-held territory.”
“Well, as it happens, Sgt. Wagner, I know more about you than you think. You come from 51 Squadron, Snaith, flying Halifaxes. The Commanding Officer is Wing-Commander Holford, and.....”(He went on to name the Navigation Leader, Bombing Leader and Signals Officer.) “You see, I have had other crews from 51 Squadron, and they have said more than you are saying. Now, what I would like to know are what operations you have been on, and what was your route and height to Duisburg. And what was the bomb-load.”
“The bomb-load was no concern of mine – I don’t know what it was. The height varied continually, and I can’t remember the exact routeing. Even if I could, the Geneva Convention only permits me to give Number, Rank and Name.”
At this stage, he desisted, and I was returned to my cell. I was roused at 2 a.m. and given a piece of bread and a cup of coffee. Departed 4 a.m., and walked with about fifty others, mostly Americans, to the station. Waited about for two hours in the cold, then went by train to Wetzlar, not a long journey, about two hours. Marched 4 km. to a camp, searched, given a P.O.W capture-parcel, and allocated a billet in a room of 3-tier bunks containing some 20 men. The Capture-parcel was a small fibre suitcase containing pyjamas, towel, socks, shaving-kit, soap, darning-holdall, toothbrush and toothpaste, comb, chocolate,
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and pipe and tobacco or cigarettes, and came by courtesy of the Red Cross. I dumped this on my bunk, stood up, and recognised the man in the bunk above. This was John Trumble, whom I had done some of my training with in South Africa, and we remained together through the hard times that lay ahead. His face lit up, and he said: ”Waggie!” and I said: “Hello John. A right old turn-up this isn’t it?” He had no other members of his crew with him either, so we teamed up. We spent six days altogether at Wetzlar, which was what would be called, I suppose, an Aircrew Disposal Centre, always cold and hungry, and that took us over into January 1945.
I stayed together with John through many difficulties for the rest of the time in Germany and returned to England with him. I stayed with him for a few days in the summer of 1945, then unfortunately we lost touch with each other, as so often happened in those days. It should not have happened, but it did. I often wondered what had become of him, and after writing the above, resolved to make a determined effort to find him. I knew his address was, in those times, Pottene Park Farm Devizes, but he had no connection with the farm, just lived in a rented cottage there. I thought of writing to the present occupier of the farm, asking him to send my letter on if John was still local, or perhaps he could look in the local telephone directory and see if he was listed. Then it dawned on me – “Phone directory, that’s it”, the library in Wisbech having directories for the whole country, about sixty of them. So I waded through some forty directories, and found several A. Trumble’s, but by a bit of good luck John always used the whole three Christian-name initials, A.H.J., and I located him in a village near Truro. If his name had been Smith or Jones, this method would not have been practical, of course.
There follow now some extracts from a diary I kept at the time, with some notes where further explanation is necessary.
5 Jan. 1945. Posting-lists up in the mess-hall. I am going tomorrow with John to Stalag Luft 7, Bankau, Silesia.
6 Jan. Marched down to station in the afternoon, after being searched and given
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a packet of chewing-gum each. Entrained in 2 cattle-trucks, 25 to a truck. One Red Cross parcel between 2 issued for journey. Half the truck occupied by guards.
7,8,9 January, on the train.
10 Jan. Detrained 0800 and walked up to the camp through deep snow. No greatcoats. Searched. Got a billet with John, & we got organised in a combine with 2 others for food-parcels and meals. Filled a paillasse with wood-shavings.
11 Jan. 1 Red cross parcel per man per fortnight promised, and reasonable German rations. First parade 0915 & the other at 1615. Quite a good library. Snow on the ground all the time, and very cold. Got greatcoat. Walked round perimeter track occasionally.
14 Jan. Went to church service in the evening. (The camp padre was an Army officer, Captain Collins. Air Force padres were, in the nature of things, unlikely to be captured. Captain Collins was a remarkable man, but more of him later. A very large proportion of prisoners attended church services, not I think because there was nothing else to do but because a belief gave a man something to hold onto in difficult times.)
One evening, there was a Russian Air-raid in the vicinity of the camp. I had just put margarine and honey on a slice of bread when the sirens went and the lights were put out, so I put it down on a stool and went to look out of the window. When the lights came on again, no bread. Accusations of theft, but everybody denied responsibility. Then I saw a mangled piece of bread stuck to the rear of another man’s trousers. I scraped it off and ate it.
18 Jan. Warned to be ready to evacuate the camp as the Russians were getting close. Packed case, packed as much food as we could, and wolfed the rest. I was ready to carry case, food parcel, and blanket wrapped round neck. Had to wear flying-boots as no ordinary ones were available. (These were lambswool lined, loose-fitting, and not designed for walking.) Very close Russian bombing. Sleepless night, as we had to be ready to move off any minute.
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(By this time, I had been issued with this identity-tag, and was officially “on the books.” In the event of death, the lower half was broken off and kept for records, the other half was buried with the body.)
[inserted]
19 Jan. Departed 0500 in bitter weather, after hanging about in the cold for a long time. Marched all day, 27 km. to Winterfeld. Had to eat snow as no water was available. spent the night wedged in a very small barn – hardly slept at all.
20 Jan. Wakened 5 a.m. and set off again. Marched all the morning, 12 km. to an abandoned brick-factory at Karlsruhe. Warm and dry. Had something to eat, a brew of coffee, then went to sleep. Feet very bad with blisters, so tied boots on with wire. Started dragging case inside the lid of another abandoned one, towing it along with a bootlace. Much kit jettisoned by the side of the road. Left 2000, as the Russians were getting close again. Marched without stopping all night.
21 Jan. Crossed the Oder 0500 – bridge mined, ready to blow up. Stopped in a village, but no accommodation was available, so pressed on another 5 km., making 41 km. in all (i.e. 25 miles). Many chaps dropped out during the night because of bad feet and exhaustion. Arrived Barrkwitz 1100. Got bed-space in a barn and had something to eat. A bull charged in scattering everybody. When it was ejected, went to sleep.
22 Jan. Roused 0300, as Russians were still pressing on Issued with a few carraway biscuits. The Germans had a bit of a job getting the chaps moving again, and there was some shooting. Pushed on 16 km. to Jenkwitz, arriving at noon. Moved some cattle out of a barn and got a bed-space organised. Warm, but very damp and smelling strongly of cattle. Ration 1 cup of coffee, 1/2 a biscuit and marge.
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(Coffee issued by the Germans was made of acorns roaster and ground up, and with milk and sugar from Red Cross parcels was not too bad at all.)
23 Jan. Left 0900. Marched 25 km. to Wassen[?]. Small bread issue and 1 cup of soup.
24 Jan. Spent the day at Wassen[?] trying to get some rest.
25 Jan. Left 0600 and marched 27 km. (17 miles) to Heidersdorf.
26 Jan. Stayed the day at Heidersdorf. Ration 2/5 of a loaf, and marge.
27 Jan. Left 1100 and marched 24 km. to Pfaffendorf, arriving at 1700. Small barn, wretched cramped bed-space, underneath a ladder – grain falling down from above all the time. Made up a double bed with John.
28 Jan. Left 0400; did 22 km. to Stansdort, in bitter weather, a fierce cold wind and driving snow. (You could rake your finger-nails down your face and not feel a thing, a real blizzard.) Arrived noon, dead-beat. Ration 4 biscuits and ½ cup of soup. (The German soup was watery in the extreme. There were two varieties – a) made from shredded dried turnip, and b) a less popular variety made from a very dark green cabbage of some sort, like spinach, known to the consumers as Whispering Grass, after a well-known song at the time.) Cold uncomfortable bed-space. Left 1830, still dragging case – nothing jettisoned. Collected 2 packets of hard biscuits (8 in all) outside a town after 3 km. Walked all night through a fierce blizzard – heavy snow, roads sometimes blocked, so had to clamber through drifts. Much transport abandoned. Many more chaps dropped out during this night.
29 Jan. Very heavy going. Slow halting freezing march. Arrived Peterwitz 0200 in an exhausted condition. Got a good warm ample bed-space; made a double bed with John and turned in, too tired even to wait for soup from the field-kitchen.
30 and 31 Jan. Spent at Peterwitz, resting.
1 Feb. Left 1000 and did 17 km. to Prausnitz.[?] Snow thawed half way, so had to start carrying case, and found it very heavy. Small dirty farmyard, absolutely crowded. However, got a good dry bed-space upstairs
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in a barn, by a water-cistern. Much brewing of coffee and porridge on fires in the farmyard. Soup twice a day from the field-kitchens.
[underlined] 2, 3, 4 Feb. [/underlined] At Prausnitz. On the evening of the 4th, issued with marching rations – 1/3 loaf, 1/3 tin of liver-paste, & some margarine. Although you could not style our progress as “marching” – we shambled along in a dejected shabby column, with German guards along the sides accompanied by Alsations.
[underlined] 5 Feb. [/underlined] Roused 0400; left 0700 and did 7 km. to Goldberg. Slight rain. Stole some sugar-beet along the way and gnawed at it. Packed into cattle trucks at the station, 55 men to a truck, and locked in. (These trucks, common on the continent, bore the legend 40 hommes, 8 chevaux, so we were well over the limit. There was not even enough room for everyone to sit down. There was a small barred window in each corner, also one large tin for toilet purposes. The vicinity of this tin was not rated very highly.) Travel slow, with many long halts of 7 to 8 hours.
[underlined] 6, 7, 8 Feb. [/underlined] On the train. Very hungry. Ate some spoonfuls of flour, barley and sugar mixed, from a cocoa tin. No water. Bought a crust of bread from Eddie, which he found beside the track, for tobacco.
9 Feb. Arrived at Luckenwalde, 23 miles S.W. of Berlin, 0800, feeling very weak. Marched 5 km. up to the camp, Stalag IIIA. Much hanging about. Brewed coffee. Queued up all the afternoon and had a hot shower. Got a billet with John – not too bad a position, on the floor on wood-straw, underneath a window. Warm and light anyhow, and room to stretch out. Porridge and potatoes from the Germans and a cup of soup from our own field kitchen.
10 Feb. Changed into pyjamas and washed dirty clothes. Had a shave.
11 Feb. German rations 1/6 loaf, 5 potatoes, 1/3 litre of soup, and German tea in the morning and evening. (This tea was a herbal mixture, and with milk and sugar made a reasonable drink. A count was held in the mornings early, to find who wanted their tea brewed and who wanted the mixture dry, to smoke – it was just like herbal tobacco. The potatoes were grown in a field near the camp, the crop being fertilised with the contents of the latrine (or “abort” in German), and were boiled in their skins.)
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[Newspaper cutting from “The Prisoner of War” dated May 1945, detailing the journey of prisoners to Stalag Luft VII and the conditions in Stalag IIIA, Luckenwalde]
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68.
12 Feb. Wrote home. (This letter, however, did not arrive.) Bad attack of dysentery, which made me even weaker – nearly everybody had it. (This was brought on by eating raw or undercooked food, insufficient bulk, the freezing conditions of the march, and by general weakness and lack of resistance. For the first few days at Luckenwalde, everyone just lay on the floor, listless and apathetic, except for occasional dashes to the abort – not everyone made it in time!)
14 Feb. Usual day, weak with hunger and dysentery.
16 Feb. and thereafter, a succession of wretched days, very little food. Listened to BBC news brought round and read out daily in each barrack block, received on an illicit radio. This was known to the Germans, but they failed to unearth the set. Anyway, even if they did, there were others in reserve. Shaved and washed once a week. Two roll-call parades in the freezing cold every day, between 30 minutes and an hour each.
[photograph of the bunks]
Three-tier bunks of the type encountered at [indecipherable word] prison camps such as Bankau. At Luckenwalde we just lay on the floor.
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[photograph of ‘feeding quarters’]
Feeding-quarters for a “combine” of six.
[photograph] Luckenwalde. Bringing up one barrock-block’s daily ration of soup. The tub was known as a “keevil”. Blankets airing on the barbed-wire. [/photograph]
This was not the outer perimeter of the camp – there was the no-man’s land of some 50 yards, then the proper fence interspersed with towers (known as “goon boxes”) occupied by machine gunners. The term “goon” was used slightingly of all Germans, named after a comic-strip of the time – The Goons were a stupid shapeless lot of sub-humans. All
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Germans were treated with contempt by R.A.F. Prisoners.
[photograph of prisoners exercising}
Prisoners from the “cooler” at exercise. The usually got there for insulting the guards.
[photograph of soldiers in compound]
American compound. The Americans were late arrivals; all the huts were occupied, so they were accommodated in tents.
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[photograph of soldiers cooking]
Americans operating their cooking-stove, known as “blowers” or “Smokey Joes”, worked by means of a forced-draught propelled along a tunnel by a fan. All made from good-tins and pieces of wood. John's and my Smokey Joe stood on a base detached from over the doorway to the abort. The abort, by the way, was in a long hut, wooden box-like structures, perforated at suitable intervals, over a deep trench, and accommodating about 30 people. It was a social meeting-place and the centre for gathering and passing on rumours.
27 Feb. On fatigue. Slept last night fully dressed because it was so cold. Up 0600, in the dark, collected keevil and went down for tea. Parade. Breakfast. Another parade for blanket inspection. Had a wash and shave in cold water in a dirty wash-place. Afternoon roll-call 1700, then a Red Cross parcel issue, one between four, which greatly improved morale. Shared it out and had some real food. Then the sirens went and the lights went out, so turned in.
Parcel issue was not usually as convenient as this – it was often one between seven or one between nine, which made sharing difficult. Some people made nearly all the contents of their parcels into a sort of solid cake, known as “glop”, but we preferred to use one item at a time.
In 1982, I went to a Stalag Luft 7 reunion at Nottingham,
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and this is the menu and address to those present. Note the amounts stated in the menu, maintaining the tradition of difficult share-outs. How do you share six prunes between ten?
[menu missing]
Klim was dried powdered milk from American Red Cross parcels. The Limburg fish-cheese is worthy of note. It came in wooden
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boxes which, when opened, revealed about twenty oval flattish cakes covered with some sort of skin, and gave off an appalling stench. The only way of eating this delicacy was to strip off the skin, liberally douse the content with pepper and salt, hold your nose, and consume the cheese with the utmost despatch. There were not many takers, so there was plenty for those with stomachs strong enough to take it, but over-consumption could precipitate an attack of the squitters.
A few other items from this programme:-
Amongst the “sporting activities”, we find Louse Hunting. Lice thrived in the crowded insanitary conditions. If you have not had the privilege of encountering any, they were flat dirt-grey insects, hard-shelled – if you squeezed one between your fingers, it had no effect. The lurked in the seams of clothing, so had to be winkled out and crushed between thumb-nails, and there was a little spot of blood if they had recently fed. They carried, of course, the germs of typhus, and the Germans were always much perturbed to hear of increased infestation – any plague would have swept like wildfire through the camp, and while I don’t suppose the effect on prisoners would have worried them a great deal, it would eventually have affected the Germans themselves.
Dog-walking to Kreuzberg. Kreuzberg was the nearest town, and any prisoner requiring dental or medical treatment had to walk there, accompanied by a guard and the inevitable Alsatian.
Goon-baiting, which accounted for the majority of the inmates of the “cooler”, and was a popular sport aimed at making the Germans feel uncomfortable. I don’t think it took place much in Army camps, as soldiers were used to taking orders and doing as they were told, but aircrew were more rebellious independent spirits inclined to follow their own dictates. In a bomber-crew, for instance, the pilot was the captain, and any decision must ultimately be his, but he rarely had to give orders; in case of necessity, he took advice from the appropriate crew-member, a specialist who knew more than he did, weighed up the advice and then made his decision, but it was more a matter of consensus than orders. Goon-baiting usually consisted of telling the Germans that their country was finished, in ruins, that
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they had been misled, and that things were going to be tough for them. Ferreting came into the same category of making the Germans feel uncomfortable and inferior. A ferret was a member of the camp staff who prowled around looking for illegal activity, and was dealt with by the “duty pilot” system. The airman on duty, accompanied by a runner and a tail, would take up position at the entrance to the compound. When a ferret appeared, his name and time of arrival would be written down, making sure that he knew what was happening. The runner was sent off to go into each hut and call out : “Goon in the block”. The “tail” followed closely behind the ferret, making his presence felt. If the ferret turned round and remonstrated with him, he melted away into the crowd and a replacement took over. The object of all this was to inform the Germans that the compound was our preserve and that they only came in under sufferance.
And now a tribute to Captain John Collins, the Stalag Luft 7 padre. Read again the paragraph that describes him; every word is true, but words alone cannot do him justice. Where most of us were trudging along, heads down, concerned only for ourselves, he would appear at different parts of the column, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing down, so that everybody had a share of inspiration from his company. I can picture him now, face reddened by the blizzard, always cheerful, always optimistic, his arm round the shoulder of a man beginning to despair, carrying his gear for a little way as well as his own, then a pat on the back and off to find someone else. And the man he had just left thought: “If he can bloody well do it, so can I.” Truly a “man among men”, and I am sure his inspiration did save lives.
I kept some record of day-to-day events while at Luckenwalde, on odd scraps of paper: here is one such, written on the end-paper of a library-book, and making the best use of available space: -
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[pencilled notes indecipherable]
and on another scrap, a drawing of a Halifax; John, being a Lancaster man, asked me to do it so that we could see the differences between the two types:-
[pencil drawing]
MH were the identification letters of 51 Squadron.
16 March. Germans cut rations to potatoes every other day, 1/6 of a loaf a day, and half margarine and sugar rations.
21 March. Cold. High wind blowing dust all over the place. Difficult day for Smokey Joe – cut up a Klim[?] tin and made a windshield for him. Issue of 1 American Red Cross No. 10 per man – prunes, chocolate
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peanut butter, tuna, plum jam, Camel cigarettes. 3 wrapped chocolate for raisins. News good today – Worms, Ludwigshafen, Neustadt and Homburg taken. Germans in chaos all along the line.
24 March. Twenty-two today. They’ll probably be thinking of me at home and wondering what sort of birthday I’m having. (There had been no news for them from 19 Dec. to 6 March, so they had only heard less than three weeks before.) Shifted dirty straw from bedspace and burned it, in response to an anti-typhus purge by the Germans, so we lay on the bare boards thereafter.
27 March. Issue of the dreaded Limburg fish cheese. Got a bundle of wood from a Russian for 2 cigarettes. Diphtheria broke out in our barrack – block – enforced gargling the opening of windows.
30 March. Good Friday. Washed, shaved, & put on hair-grease. (This was an issue of an evil-looking black grease, much resembling axle-grease, which it may well have been. Goodness knows why they issued it.) Cleaned shoes. Parade by main gate 0920 for church – The Seven Words from the Cross, by Captain Collins.
2 April. Day dragged interminably. Made some prune jam, but it was cold and windy, a bad day for Smokey Joes.
5 April. Issue of 1 American Red Cross No. 10 per man. One more and they will all be finished – time to tighten belts again. Destruction of German rail-system and rolling-stock by the R.A.F. prevents supply of more parcels.
11 April. This evening, it was announced that a partial evacuation from Luckenwolde would begin tomorrow. All officers going, & N.C.O.’s from Barrack 3 and 33 from Barrack 7. John and I volunteered to be among the 33 because we thought the others might not get transport and would have to march. Packed kit and shared our food for carrying; we had a whole case full of tins of food stored up, a little from every parcel.
12 April. Called out to move off after soup 1100. Much checking and roll-calls. Search, just before which we had to get cracking in a hurry and puncture all our tins. Nothing taken, except they took one of John’s blankets. Marched down to Luckenwolde station. We had our
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blower[?] with us – John insisted on bringing it, and just outside the station we set it down and had a hot brew, which was very welcome although it was a hot day. Issue of 40 cigarettes per man. Entrained in cattle trucks, 40 per truck. Stole porage[sic] oats from a nearby train. (Looking up through the floorboards of a truck, we saw sacks inside. On being slit open with a knife, a steady stream of oats came through a wide crack, which was much appreciated by those in the vicinity.) Sleeping-space cramped, but I have been in worse. Very hot and stuffy – no ventilation.
13 April. Up 0600 & brewed up. Had bread, then stewed prunes. Talk by Wing Commander in charge of the party. Bombing of the line down at Treuenbrietzen means we can’t leave here for some time. BBC news read out during evening, also it was announced we go back to camp tomorrow.
14 April. Up 0600. Porridge, thin bread. Results of trading with German civvies – ½ loaf, 2 onions, 6 eggs, 30 saccharine tablets, and 4 lbs of potatoes for 65 cigarettes and 2 bars of soap. Marched back to camp and got organised in our same barrack. While we were away, 2 R.A.F. chaps shot trying to climb the wire – “stir-crazy”, I suppose.
17 April. Issue of 1 parcel between 2. That is the last now. Water turned off nearly all day.
18 April. News good today. Our advance appears to have slowed down, but the Russians have started a big push on the Berlin front, and are doing well. Organisation going ahead for running the camp ourselves when the Germans leave.
20 April. Bombing of Potsdam and Wriezenburg[sic] by U.S. heavies. Lovely fine day. Clouds of smoke over target. Made out a list of food in stock and rationed it to last 5 weeks. This evening there was a feeling in the air that something was going to happen, but there was no definite news. Russian artillery plainly heard, red glows in the sky.
21 April. Heard German staff moving out with lorries, tractors and cars during the night. Not called out on parade this morning. A few German guards still left, but not many. Russian tank crews brought in – short imprisonment for them. Looting of German staff quarters, but not much to be had. Prisoners record-cards from the camp offices were distributed – here
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is mine:-
[blank page]
Dull rainy day. Wing Commander Beamont[?] (who later became chief pilot for English Electric, and was in charge of test-flying Camberras and Lightnings), announced that the Germans had left, the camp was surrounded, and the Russians were fighting in Luckenwalde and Juterbog last night.
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22 April. Slept fully dressed last night in case we had to make a dash for the trenches. French and British flags flying at the gate, and a big red Russian one over the cookhouse. White flags at intervals round the perimeter barbed wire. At 1030 Russian tanks and lorries arrived in force. All the Russian prisoners were given rifles and moved out straight away, anxious to kill Germans. (Russia was not a signatory to the Geneva Convention for treatment of prisoners of war, and they had a terrible time of it in the camp, almost starved or worked to death. The same treatment was accorded to German prisoners held by the Russians.)
Artillery duel just outside the camp in the evening, between Germans hiding in a wood and a party of Russians.
[pencilled notes indecipherable]
The next few pages are photo-copies of the part of Wing Commander Beamont’s[?] book The War in the Air, which deals with the liberation of Luckenwalde.
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THE WAR IN THE AIR
then came the end in Europe. For some it was sudden: the nights suddenly quiet because no engines had to be tested for the dawn; the days suddenly long because they knew there would be a tomorrow. But for others, in the prisoner-of-war camps, it was a more drawn-out affair.
THE LONG LIBERATION
10th April. After weeks of better and better news, and of resigning ourselves to waiting for a few more weeks until final liberation, strated [sic] by our fighters, it will be an amazing stroke of fortune (and I know well enough what 20-mm can do to trains). However should this move come off, my policy will be to try and stay behind with the sick. This is the allied target area – not Munich.
Two days ago we saw a Mosquito release a cloud of leaflets overhead at about 20,000 feet. Intelligence reports that the contents are telling Russian prisoners-of-war that they will be liberated within ten to fifteen days.
The Russians have been literally starved by the goons and are dying in dozens of TB. The hospital is crammed with them. We had collections of food which we can hardly spare for them. Meanwhile great preparation of emergency food. Am fairly well off this time. One lives and learns. Over and above the Red Cross parcel I have acquired six chocolate bars, a tin of fish and three pounds of chocolate pemmican by judicious trading during the past weeks. So even without food from the Germans I should have nearly two weeks food at a bare living rate. In addition I have just traded a blue sweater and a pair of Jack Sharkies for two boxes of prunes, value 2s. 6d. But two days' food.
Midday. Germans announce officially that we move tomorrow. Have sent name in as unfit to travel – this is only partially true. But one risk is as good as another and I prefer this one as a fat better chance of liberation.
11th April. We have informed the Germans that this move is being carried out entirely without our co-operation. The only possible reason must be that we are intended to be held as hostages in the last stronghold in the mountainous area of Munich.
3 pm, Thursday, 12th April. After another night of tension, the camp was marched out to entrain for the incredible journey through the battle area to Munich this morning. As a notable change from the normal practice the move took place to the endless accompaniment of 'bitte,' absolutely no 'Raus! Raus!” at all.
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Even more amazing, my scheme has come off. I have been left behind with the sick bods against all the advice of the well-meaning older kriegies who were, I think, suffering from a surfeit of sour grapes. This was the best chance, and now, not three hours after the main party had gone, comes the news that the allies have cut the Magdeburg – Berlin autobahn. They could be here tomorrow.
The suspense is something of which I have never experienced the like. Waiting for a big low-attack show is a tea party in comparison! Atmosphere is electric.
The German officer on appel said, when I asked permission to remove a partition in a block for a new camp office: ‘One does not start a new building at five to twelve.’ At least they know the form.
The main party was still reported at the station, having spent the night in the trucks waiting for an engine which the Reichbahn [sic] people think is unlikely to materialise.
At 9.30 pm we received word that the boys were coming back as transport is impossible. Tank spearheads are reported at Brandenburg, Wittenberg – thirty miles from here – north of Halle and Leipzig. We are directly in front of the three-pronged thrust, and nothing short of fantastic ill-fortune can prevent our freedom in the next few days.
Saturday, 14th April. We worked late into last night trying to repair the damage in the blocks, caused by the departed kriegies themselves. In seven barracks there was hardly a serviceable bed. After appeals we received about fifteen per cent assistance in the big job of making sure that the returning boys would have at least a place to sleep. It is galling, the number of men who are not in the least concerned about the welfare of their friends and think only about themselves.
Still, somehow we arranged things and this morning the first party came in at 10 am, to the accompaniment of clapping and cheering from the Poles, and a loud chorus of ‘Hey, hey, the gang’s all here!’ from the Americans, accompanied by a trumpet, a violin and a mouth organ.
During yesterday’s appel we held a two minutes’ silence at attention in memory of Roosevelt who died yesterday. Particularly effective as the Americans were not on appel at the time, and remarkable
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because the company of German guards, who had paraded and were about to march off, remained at attention with us.
Reminder that the Germans are still in control came last night when two RAF NCOs attempted to climb the wire at the eleventh hour. One attacked a sentry with a bottle and was shot and killed. The other wounded. Bloody fools.
15th April. Terrific raid on Berlin suburb about twelve miles north of here last night. Made London show seem quite insignificant. Incredible din and display. Patton has a security blackout on the drive across the Elbe at Magdeburg. It is fifty miles away and is heading for us. Groups of kriegies stand in the compound all day staring south-west.
The atmosphere has more than expectancy, however, as the abort, always unsavoury, has sprung a leak.
Today’s big tragedy – I sat on my pipe and broke it.
Monday, 16th April. Tantalising news that the camp at Magdeburg to which the remainder of Luft 3 were sent from Sagen, has been liberated intact! When will our turn come?
Tuesday, 17th April. Another great Fortress raid passed over this morning. Mustangs and Thunderboirs [sic] are constantly in sight. Every thud and explosion, every flash of light in the sky is taken to be an indication of the advancing Americans.
Stalag II A consisting of some 4,000 Allied soldiers was evacuated into this area last week and, having arrived, had nowhere to go. They are living in the open, with no food supplies and no medical attention, and are in a tragic condition. The SBO sent our last reserve of Red Cross parcels to them yesterday together with two doctors and drugs.
Four hundred Russian sick were suddenly taken from our camp yesterday for destination unknown.
Wednesday, 18th April. Day after day, rumours add to the tension. The Russians are advancing fifty miles to the east, the Allies form miles to the west and south, but we are still here! The new optimisty [sic] has not borne fruit and now there is a new situation: no more Red Cross food.
Thursday, 19th April, night. The strain of boredom of the last few days was relieved at midnight when the Wing Commanders were routed out for a meeting with the SBO. His office was crammed with
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a circle of figures crouched round the table upon which lay a map of the area and two guttering lamps. He told us that the Russians had broken through south-east of us, were less than thirty miles away, and that the Germans proposed to march the whole camp unit of 4,000 prisoners-of-war in hostile country with no destination and no supplies of food or drugs, and most probably no shelter. The whole district is a battle area and such an action on the part of the goons cannot but have tragic results.
Friday, 20th April, morning. Still no further action by the Germans. We have our remaining food stocks packed and ready. Whether we go or stay, there will be no more food in a week’s time. With the possibility of freedom nearer than it has ever been, the chance of getting the chop is rather great. But to hell with the war! The only course is to relapse into one’s normal state of mental rigidity and sunbathe.
Saturday, 21st April. The most amazing day of my life. All night fires raged, guns thundered, and cannon shattered and at dawn a violent tank battle took place at Luckenwalde. Juterbog, twelve miles to the south, is in flames. FW 190s are ground-strafing within sight at all times. In short we are in the front line.
(By now most of the German guards had deserted, leaving the prisoners in charge of their own camp).
We are in the most critical of all stages now. Nearly free but without news of relieving forces, and in this country of brutality and horror anything might happen yet.
We know that the Russians are all round us. Perhaps they will be here tomorrow. I win £30 if they are. It is grand to have a job again. Quite a strange thing using a telephone!
Hell! An FW 190 has just strafed the whole length of the camp. I must go and see if there have been casualties.
Midnight, and no casualties. The organisation is almost complete. Amazingly enough the telephone network is operating and I have a set in my temporary office-cum-bedroom now. Very tired, have checked and arranged pickets on the of the NCOs’ compound.
Sunday, 22nd April, midday. Russians are here in force. Fighting all round. Local tank commander’s attitude is very brusque and dogmatic. I don’t think they like us very much. Tanks charging up and down have torn up our communications and in places the wire.
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The French are hysterical, the British a little less so, and the Norwegians are calm. The Americans are reported only a few miles away. I hope they get here before this comedy becomes a tragedy.
At long last the Red Air Force’s close support Aira-Cobras, Yaks, and Stormoviks fly above us. So do the Luftwaffe, putting up a brave show to the last. It was fascinating to watch a silver dart of a Messerschmitt delta jet dive straight down on to a formation of forty Fortresses, then Bang! bang! and a Fortress fell away while the Me 163 shot straight up into cloud.
In another scrap two Me 109’s shot down three out of twelve Aira-Cobras without loss. The Aira-Cobras were flying in formation under cloud. I caught a glimpse of the 109s as they dived straight astern, shot down two of the Cobras, and whipped up into cloud leaving the rest of the formation running round in circles wondering what had happened. Farther on the Me 109s came down again through another hole in the cloud and destroyed the third Aira-Cobra. They suffered no loss themselves.
1 pm. The Russians depart leaving us in temporary control. They have brought up a quantity of flak already, so it seems as if the area is nearly stabilised. However there are still plenty of bangs, and plenty of great unneighbourliness in this area.
The news announces tanks penetrating deep into Berlin.
Evening. Violent fighting in the woods to the north. Shells whistling and screaming overhead, and 109s dive-bombing the autobahn. The Russians have added heavy flak to their set-up here. The din is fantastic. More fierce fighting on the boundaries and cannon-strafing by Junkers 88s. Two Serbs and a number of Russians killed in the fighting round the camp. Violent action between a Russian tank and Germans as it left the main gate. The Russians seemed to win. They have taken General Ruge with them to fly him to Moscow. This leaves the SBO as the senior Allied CO.
(Undated.) Told officers and pickets to dissuade the men from going through the wire if possible, but if told to ‘b------- off’, to ‘b-------- off’ promptly and avoid incident. Then talked to the chaps in the blocks and reported to the SBO. Suggested that all compounds should be open, giving free circulation throughout the whole camp but within the wire. Bed at 2.30 am. Strafed by a Ju 88 at 4 am. Cannon shells all over the shop but fortunately no casualties.
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[typewritten script from The War in the Air]
1945
8 am. Another direct threat to officers. Three sections of the wire cut away and Army NCOs loose. The RAF hanging-fire though pretending to follow Army lead. Walked into each barrack and addressed the men. Think I put the position over and am more certain than ever the trouble is due to just one or two bad characters. At one point nearly used the SBO’s authority to throw the worst types into the cooler, but steered clear. Am sure freedom of circulation within the whole camp would ease the situation.
This is the worst couple of days in my experience without exception. The feeling of the possibility that we might lose control of a mass of desperate men, under condition of front-line war and artillery shells, machine-guns, rifles, aircraft cannon and bombs going off all round, is inclined to be unpleasant. I think we can hold our own, but it is not a comfortable position.
Russians killed off four German wounded hiding in the woods. Nice people!
Stormoviks and Yaks in great numbers today. They seem to operate well on their side of the front! Dog-fights between four Aira-Cobras and one Me 109 overhead this afternoon. The Russians seem to weave violently at all times. The Yak is a good little fighter in the Spitfire class.
Our pet Junkers 88 low-strafed us with front guns again in the moonlight. Plenty return 20-mm fire from the town. Very interesting to be at the other end for a change. I admire these Luftwaffe boys for carrying on to the grim end.
A Russian patrol found four French POWs in a house outside the camp with some women. Russians shot and killed the Frenchmen for refusing to obey an order. They probably wanted the women for themselves.
Our own trouble has died down for the moment. We have averted a riot I suppose, but in actual practise discipline as such is gone.
Wednesday. Still no Americans. This waiting is tricky. Plenty of food now when at odd moments I can find time to eat. Yesterday I had my first hot drink and a meal of bread and rhubarb at 3.30 pm. The Russians are giving us all they can. Very friendly now and much back slapping, but no respect.
Thursday. Situation tense again in my compound. NCOs are not the
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slightest bit prepared to meet the officers half-way, and are quite certain that we are there to make life unpleasant.
In all this turmoil the thought that we are no longer in fact prisoners-of-war and should be home soon is difficult to grasp and is not in the least exciting.
Saturday. So ends this demoralising week of passing on and handing out orders that one knows perfectly well will not be carried out. Held a roll parade to check ration strength this morning. The men took a lot of persuasion and diplomacy to turn out for that. Last night the news of a link-up between the Americans and Russians at Torgau cheered everyone immensely. The later report that a jeep bearing three American war correspondents had been seen on the way to Berlin should do much to settle the present unrest.
Watched a Mig shoot down a 190 in four short bursts. Very pretty.
Wednesday. Ten days since the Germans left. One of the biggest battles we have seen is now raging on the north-east and northern borders of the camp. Rifle and tommy-gun fire is incessant and mortar duel is in progress with us in no-man’s land. The radio has announced the release of all camps taken by the Americans and British, but has said nothing of us. Our people must be worried. So are we.
Thursday, 1800 hours. The first Yanks in the camp. Two war correspondents in a jeep from the lines at Magdeburg. They are taking taking Beatty, our press correspondent, back with them tomorrow and he will fly to Eisenhower’s headquarters with our records. Maybe things will start moving. All the boys want to push off west and are doing so in increasing numbers. I would be right with them if I hadn’t this damned responsibility. Wrote a brief note home and put it in the jeep. It might get through.
Friday. Sunshine. Many more people walking west. Two hundred of the men from this compound alone walked out yesterday. The position is intolerable. We can and should march the camp west to the Elbe with of course the Russian’s approval. The Americans are at Wittenberg. Only thirty miles away – one day or so on a bicycle.
1600 hours. American colonel from Davescourt headquarters here, said our evacuation starts at once! Trucks arriving tonight and we shall be flown home. Can it be true! Shall we, shall I be out of this country of death and home in England? It is almost too much to expect.
Wing Commander ROLAND BEAMONT’S dairy,[sic] quoted by EDWARD LANCHBERY
It was too much to expect. The Americans sent the trucks, the Russians sent them back. It was another two weeks before they got home.
[/typewritten script from The War in the Air]
[page break]
Enclosed below is an account of the last days at Luckenwalde from my own point of view, and the journey home.
[pencilled notes indecipherable]
On one of our private forging parties, John and I fell in with some Polish prisoners who had been employed at the factory making V1 flying bombs. None of us could speak the other side’s language, so everything was done by signs. We went back to their billet with them, and they produced enamel mugs and bottles of spirit, looking like lemon-barley water, which we gathered was fuel for the flying-bombs, and must have been almost pure alcohol. Some was poured on a table, a match applied, and it went “whoomph.” We imbibed a fair quantity of this, and were soon blotto. We staggered back to camp and sagged down to sleep it off; woke up with a raging thirst and had a drink of water. This had the effect of re-activating the spirit, setting the whole
[page break]
[pencilled notes indecipherable]
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88
business in motion again, so we were back in square one.
I see “Stinger” is referred to here and there. This was Staff Sergeant Nettell of the Glider Pilot Regiment, the senior N.C.O. in our hut, and something of a comedian. Rumours were rife towards the end, our prisoners were somewhat apprehensive about what the Germans might have in store for them. One day, Stinger came into the hut, called for silence, and announced: “Everyone in this hut – is to parade outside in five minutes time – to march down to the stores – to draw picks and shovels – to dig their own graves.” I thought: “So it’s come to that, has it?” There was a stunned silence for a moment, then laughter broke out – Stinger and his jokes again!
The Russians were very reluctant to let us go, and our impatience mounted. American army lorries arrived on 6 May to take us away, but the Russians sent them away empty. The next day, prisoners started off trickling away on their own, walking westwards, and John and I set off in a part of about a dozen. After walking about 7 miles, we met another convoy of American lorries heading for the camp. One of them picked us up, turned around, and set off towards the west, finishing up at a P.O.W. reception centre at Schonebeck, in what was a Junkers aircraft factory. So on 7 May we were once again in safe hands. The war officially ended the next day with unconditioned German surrender.
11 May.
Embarked in lorries and proceeded via Magdeburg and Brunswick to an ex-German fighter aerodrome at Hildesheim. Had a hot shower and a de-lousing. In the latter operation, an orderly put the nozzle of a large syringe down the front of one’s trousers and sent a blast of DDT round the interior. Assigned to an aircraft party. Got a Red Cross parcel containing soap (toilet, tooth and shaving), shaving-brush razor and blades, 2 handkerchiefs, tooth-brush, face-cloth, toilet-bag, 50 cigarettes and ½ lb of chocolate. Soup, bread, coffee and a K-ration for tea.
12 May. Called out to the aerodrome after breakfast. A steady stream
[page break]
of Dakotas was coming in, filling up and taking off again. Took off 1600, flew over the devastated areas of the Ruhr, and landed at Brussels 1800. Tea and biscuits from the Naafi waggon. Transported in lorries to 42 R.H.U. at Louvain, about 12 miles out. Deloused once again.
13 May. Taken back to Brussels Airport in the afternoon, got aboard a Dakota and flew back to England via Ostend and the Thames Estuary. Landed at Wing, near Aylesbury. Deloused yet again – they must have thought those lice were pretty hardy characters, to have survived two previous assaults. After more tea and biscuits, transported to Bicester aerodrome, where we stayed the night. Bacon and egg, bread and marmalade, for tea.
14 May. Train to Cosford, near Wolverhampton. Given new uniform and kit, went through documentation, give ration cards and leave passes, and pay. Medical exam.
15 May. Left late in the afternoon, travelled through the night, and arrived at Reading 0430. Two hours to wait for a train to Twyford, and another ½ hour for one to Henley. When I arrived home the rest of the family were still in bed and I had to knock them up.
The following letters are in order, as received by my mother. The original telegram has not survived, but it read: “Deeply regret to inform you your son Sgt. H. Wagner failed to return from an operational flight over enemy territory this morning. Pending receipt of written notification no information to be given to the Press.”
* Letters on page numbered 90 onwards.
[page break]
[newspaper cuttings relating the heroism of the aircrews of Bomber Command]
[page break]
[Three newspaper cuttings on Bomber Command – the third worded as follows:]
The campaign fought by Bomber Command was the longest and the most sustained in British military history. It lasted from September 1939 to May 1945. It cost the lives of 57,000 of its aircrew – Britons, Canadians, Australians, New Zealanders, South Africans – a total which represents well over half of all those who flew on operations. Nowhere else was the casualty rate so high, perhaps because nowhere else was battle joined with the enemy on such a continuous and relentless scale.
They were all young men, all highly-trained. They came to England from all over the Empire, to volunteer for and to create the last Imperial force there would ever be. In the darkest days they were a symbol that ultimately their world would triumph, whatever the cost. They were a special breed, on a special crusade, and possessed it seemed of a special courage. They did not ask to live, but only to win.
[page break]
[page break]
51
in charge, rumours were rife, and prisoners were somewhat apprehensive about what the Germans might have in store for them. One day, Stinger came into the hut, called for silence
[page break]
89
of Dakotas was coming in, filling up and taking off again. Took off 1600, flew over the devastated areas of the Ruhr, marvelling at the damned good job we had made of it, and landed at Brussels 1800. Tea and biscuits from the Naafi waggon [sic]. Transported in lorries to 42 R.H.U. At Louvain, about 12 miles out. De-loused once again, tea, and turned in.
13 May. Taken back to Brussels Airport in the afternoon, got aboard a Dakota and flew back to England via Ostend and the Thames Estuary. Landed at Wing, near Aylesbury. De-loused yet again – they must have considered the lice pretty hardy characters to have survived two previous assaults. After more tea and biscuits, transported to Bicester aerodrome, where we stayed the night. Bacon and egg, bread and marmalade, and tea.
14 May. Train to Cosford, near Wolverhampton. Given new uniform and kit, went through documentation, given ration cards, leave passes, and pay. Medical exam.
15 May. Left late in the afternoon, travelled through the night, and arrived at Reading 0430. Two hours to wait for a train to Twyford, and another 1/2 hr. for one to Henley. When I arrived home, the rest of the family were still in bed, and I had to knock them up.
There followed several days of seeing old friends and places again, writing to parents of the rest of my crew, playing golf, servicing motorcycle and generally relaxing and feeling glad to be home again and to be able to wander as I pleased. The following letters are in order as received by my mother. The original telegram has not survived, but it read; “Deeply regret to inform you your son Sgt. H. Wagner failed to return from an operational flight over enemy territory this morning. Pending receipt of written notification no information to be given to the Press.”
[page break]
90
No. 51 Squadron,
R.A.F. Station,
Snaith,
Nr. Goole,
Yorkshire.
Reference:- 51S/801/251/P.1.
18th December, 1944.
Dear Mrs. Wagner
It is with the deepest regret that I have to confirm the news already conveyed to you by telegram to-day, that your Son, 1604744 Sergeant H.W. Wagner, failed to return from an operational flight over enemy territory this morning.
Your Son was acting in his capacity of Navigator in an aircraft which took-off during the early hours of this morning to deliver an attack on a target at Duisburg, and I regret that nothing was heard of the aircraft or its crew after the time of take-off.
The loss of this crew is a sad blow to all of us here, particularly so in the case of your Son, who was looked upon as one of our outstanding Navigators, and who commanded the respect of all. We cherish the hope that he and his companions may yet prove to be safe and well, though prisoners of war.
Your Son's personal belongings have been gathered together by the Station Effects Officer and forwarded to the R.A.F. Central Depository, who will send them on to you in due course.
I would like to add that the request in the telegram notifying you of the casualty to your Son was included with the object of avoiding his chance of escape being prejudiced in case he was still at large. This is not to say that any information is available, but it is a precaution which is adopted in the case of all missing personnel.
Please accept the deepest sympathy of myself and all the Officers and Men of the Squadron.
Yours Sincerely
H.A.R. Holford
Wing commander, Commanding,
[underlined] No. 51 Squadron, R.A.F. [/underlined]
…./Over.
[page break]
91
AIR MINISTRY,
(casualty Branch),
73-77 OXFORD STREET,
LONDON, W.1
22 December, 1944.
Madam,
I am commanded by the Air Council to express to you their great regret on learning that your son, Sergeant Henry Wolfe Wagner, Royal Air Force, is missing as the result of air operations on 18th December, 1944, when a Halifax aircraft in which he was flying as navigator set out for action over Duisberg [sic] and failed to return.
This does not necessarily mean that he is killed or wounded, and if he is a prisoner of war he should be able to communicate with you in due course. Meanwhile enquiries are being made through the International Red Cross committee, and as soon as any definite news is received you will be at once informed.
/If
Mrs. J. E. Wagner,
14, Western Avenue,
Henley-on-Thames,
Oxon.
[page break]
If any information regarding your son is received by you from any source you are requested to be kind enough to communicate it immediately to the Air Ministry.
The air Council desire me to convey to you their sympathy in your present anxiety.
I am, Madam,
Your obedient Servant,
Charles Evans
98
[photograph]
A photograph of the cemetery in Holland, sent to me a few months after the war by Mrs Worthington, mother of our mid-upper gunner.
[photograph]
A close-up of the crew's graves before proper head-stones were fitted.
[page break]
89
of Dakotas was coming in, filling up and taking off again. Took off 1600, flew over the devastated areas of the Ruhr, marvelling at the damned good job we had made of it, and landed at Brussels 1800. Tea and biscuits from the Naafi waggon [sic]. Transported in lorries to 42 R.H.U. At Louvain, about 12 miles out. De-loused once again, tea, and turned in.
13 May. Taken back to Brussels Airport in the afternoon, got aboard a Dakota and flew back to England via Ostend and the Thames Estuary. Landed at Wing, near Aylesbury. De-loused yet again – they must have considered the lice pretty hardy characters to have survived two previous assaults. After more tea and biscuits, transported to Bicester aerodrome, where we stayed the night. Bacon and egg, bread and marmalade, and tea.
14 May. Train to Cosford, near Wolverhampton. Given new uniform and kit, went through documentation, given ration cards, leave passes, and pay. Medical exam.
15 May. Left late in the afternoon, travelled through the night, and arrived at Reading 0430. Two hours to wait for a train to Twyford, and another 1/2 hr. for one to Henley. When I arrived home, the rest of the family were still in bed, and I had to knock them up.
There followed several days of seeing old friends and places again, writing to parents of the rest of my crew, playing golf, servicing motorcycle and generally relaxing and feeling glad to be home again and to be able to wander as I pleased. The following letters are in order as received by my mother. The original telegram has not survived, but it read; “Deeply regret to inform you your son Sgt. H. Wagner failed to return from an operational flight over enemy territory this morning. Pending receipt of written notification no information to be given to the Press.”
[page break]
90
No. 51 Squadron,
R.A.F. Station,
Snaith,
Nr. Goole,
Yorkshire.
Reference:- 51S/801/251/P.1.
18th December, 1944.
Dear Mrs. Wagner
It is with the deepest regret that I have to confirm the news already conveyed to you by telegram to-day, that your Son, 1604744 Sergeant H.W. Wagner, failed to return from an operational flight over enemy territory this morning.
Your Son was acting in his capacity of Navigator in an aircraft which took-off during the early hours of this morning to deliver an attack on a target at Duisburg, and I regret that nothing was heard of the aircraft or its crew after the time of take-off.
The loss of this crew is a sad blow to all of us here, particularly so in the case of your Son, who was looked upon as one of our outstanding Navigators, and who commanded the respect of all. We cherish the hope that he and his companions may yet prove to be safe and well, though prisoners of war.
Your Son's personal belongings have been gathered together by the Station Effects Officer and forwarded to the R.A.F. Central Depository, who will send them on to you in due course.
I would like to add that the request in the telegram notifying you of the casualty to your Son was included with the object of avoiding his chance of escape being prejudiced in case he was still at large. This is not to say that any information is available, but it is a precaution which is adopted in the case of all missing personnel.
Please accept the deepest sympathy of myself and all the Officers and Men of the Squadron.
Yours Sincerely
H.A.R. Holford
Wing commander, Commanding,
[underlined] No. 51 Squadron, R.A.F. [/underlined]
…./Over.
[page break]
91
AIR MINISTRY,
(casualty Branch),
73-77 OXFORD STREET,
LONDON, W.1
22 December, 1944.
Madam,
I am commanded by the Air Council to express to you their great regret on learning that your son, Sergeant Henry Wolfe Wagner, Royal Air Force, is missing as the result of air operations on 18th December, 1944, when a Halifax aircraft in which he was flying as navigator set out for action over Duisberg [sic] and failed to return.
This does not necessarily mean that he is killed or wounded, and if he is a prisoner of war he should be able to communicate with you in due course. Meanwhile enquiries are being made through the International Red Cross committee, and as soon as any definite news is received you will be at once informed.
/If
Mrs. J. E. Wagner,
14, Western Avenue,
Henley-on-Thames,
Oxon.
[page break]
If any information regarding your son is received by you from any source you are requested to be kind enough to communicate it immediately to the Air Ministry.
The air Council desire me to convey to you their sympathy in your present anxiety.
I am, Madam,
Your obedient Servant,
Charles Evans
98
[photograph]
A photograph of the cemetery in Holland, sent to me a few months after the war by Mrs Worthington, mother of our mid-upper gunner.
[photograph]
A close-up of the crew's graves before proper head-stones were fitted.
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99
[photograph] Some of the graves. This photo was taken about 1982 by Mrs. Worthington's daughter, Joan.
In 1989, I saw a notice in “Airmail” inserted by a man who had visited Venray and seen the graves of 12 R.A.F. Men. He named them, and offered to send photos to relatives. I told him the names of my crew and the circumstances that led to their being there, and he sent me the following photographs.
[photograph] Warrant Officer W.A. Bates, pilot.
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100
[photograph] Flight Sergeant L.G. Roberts, Bomb-aimer.
[photograph] Sgt. E. Berry, Flight engineer
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101
[Photograph] Sgt. T.W. Worthington, Mid-upper gunner.
[photograph] Sgt. R. Thomas, Rear-gunner.
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102
Shortly after the war, I applied to join the Caterpillar Club, membership of which is limited to those who have saved their lives by means of a parachute. The club was founded by Leslie Irvin, who invented the modern parachute.
[inserted] Membership card to the Caterpillar Club. [/inserted]
In the middle of June, I went to stay for a couple of days [inserted] with John [/inserted] and his long-time girl-friend (now his wife) Vilna. They lived in a cottage at Potterne Park Farm, Devizes, Wiltshire. A very pleasant visit it was, the last time but one that I saw them for 44 years. But more of that later. We lost touch; it shouldn't have happened, but this sort of thing often did.
My leave expired on 11 July 1945, and I returned to Cosford. This was only for a few days, for the purposes of medical examination, documentation and getting fitted out in full kit. It was a time of unease, restlessness and doubt. I knew only one other person there, Frankie Sedgewick, who had been with John and me at Barkau and Luckenwalde. He was a great virtuoso on the piano and the accordion; although he could not read music, he knew all the tunes, and had a wonderful sense of rhythm. Before we left Barkau for the march, he had become the possessor of a beautiful accordion, thanks to the Red Cross. On the point of departure from Barkau, he slashed it with a knife, tears streaming down his face, and said: “I can't carry it, and those bastards aren't having it.”
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and said: “I can’t carry it, and those bastards aren’t having it.” He had been a member of a Stirling crew, shot down dropping supplies at Arnhem. The aircraft belly-landed on a road, skated along it and ground to a halt. The crew evacuated – Frankie into a ditch on one side, the other six into a ditch on the opposite side, all under fire. The six were on the British side and got away; Frankie was on the German side and got pulled in.
By the 15th of July, I was back on leave again, until the end of August. I spent those six weeks working on harvesting at Dick Green’s farm, playing golf, going swimming, and generally having a relaxed and leisurely time among friends. The war with Japan ended after the dropping of the two atom-bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki on August 6th and 8th, as it was all over. On 29 August I reported to R.A.F. Wittering and remained there for nine days, but there was nothing much to do and no real reason for being there – the only purpose it served was to demonstrate to us that we were in fact still in the Air Force. Then there was a 48-hour pass, for which I went home, then back to Wittering again, then off on leave again.
In October, I went up to Liverpool to stay with Mr. Roberts, father of our bomb-aimer. While there, we went to visit the Worthingtons before returning home a few days later, but it was not long before I was back there again, for a fortnight this times, and the affair made good progress. It looked as if this might be it.
I applied for early release from the R.A.F. so as to continue my degree course at Reading University; this was granted, and I was demobilised shortly before Christmas, ready to start at the university again in January 1946.
This would seem to take us to the end of the crosswind leg, and it is now time to turn onto the downwind leg. This one is the longest of all the legs of a circuit, and the most peaceful. Everything should be organised and running smoothly; there is nothing of any urgency requiring to be done, and one may proceed with dignity and decorum towards
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the next turning-point, meanwhile watching the world go by.
[underlined] DOWNWIND LEG. [/underlined]
In January 1946 I returned to Reading University. When I left, I had one year to do for my degree, but now I had two extra terms, which were quite welcome as they gave me an opportunity to settle down again. I was only doing two subjects (as usual for an honours degree) – French and Latin. The French consisted not only of the language itself but also translation into French and from French, classical literature, modern literature, old French, the development of the language from Latin, essays and a considerable amount of reading. In term-time, and even during holidays, I worked very hard, often on into the night. During leisure times, I played a lot of golf, usually with my brother Richard, at Henley Golf Club. He was always a better player than me; where I would be hoping that my second shot finished somewhere on the green, he would be seen picking the spot on the green where he proposed to land his ball. During the summer, I worked on Dick Green’s farm, mainly on harvesting, and often borrowed a gun from him to go rabbiting. Tight rationing was still in force, so a rabbit was always welcome as an alternative to the dreary diet of sausage-meat or fish. Being a hot summer, I frequently went after work for a swim at Shiplake Swimming Baths, on the River Thames.
Joan came down from Liverpool for a week, and I went up to Liverpool and stayed with her family, and also spent a fortnight with them on holiday in North Wales, near Prestatyn. We became engaged during that summer, but early next year it was all over. Looking back, the affair was doomed to failure, because we could see so little of each other, living such a long way apart. There was neither the money nor the time for frequent visits, and the flame flickered and died.
1947 was the year of my final examinations, and I continued to work as hard as ever, reluctant even to give up time to play golf. I did join the University cross-country club, and used to run in
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team matches against other universities and athletics clubs on Saturday afternoons.
In June, I sat the final examinations for my degree, and when the results came out I found I had passed the B.A. with Honours in French, Class II Division 1. I did not expect a Class 1 degree, as these were rarely given. It must have been a close thing, though; some weeks afterwards, I met the Professor of French, Professor Pesseignet, and her said: “I would have liked to give you a First, but there were other considerations.” (He did not specify what they were.) However, Class II Division 1 was classified as a “good Honours degree”, so I was quite satisfied. Class II Division II was a run-of-the-mill degree, and Class III was for those who only just scraped through.
I acquired another motorcycle that summer. I disposed of the old 250 c.c. O.K. Supreme and took over a 500 c.c. high-camshaft MSS Velocette, a far superior machine in every respect. One evening, I went over to Maidenhead to help my friend Geoff Dolphin do some work on his 350 c.c. Royal Enfield. When the job was done, we repaired to the local for some refreshment and got talking at the bar to a Mr. Jupp. He ran a holiday-camp for London youth-clubs in the Isle of Wight, and asked if I would like a job helping in the cookhouse for a few weeks. Having nothing lined up in the way of holidays, I accepted, and went down there several days later. One evening, I was sitting at a table outside, reading, when a girl came and sat down and started reading too. After half an hour, I said: “That’s another book finished,” and stood up to leave. She said: “Would you like to read the paper?”, so I said: “Yes, please”, and she went and got her Daily Mirror. (Years afterwards, she said to me: “I didn’t know how near I was to losing you, offering you the Daily Mirror.”) When it got duck, I said: “It’s too dark to read any more. Shall we take a ride up to Culver Point?” and that is how it all started. Before leaving her that evening, I said: “Are you committed to anything tomorrow?” When she said no, I said: “I have to go up to Brading in the morning to get the cakes for the canteen. Then we could go along to the other end of the island, to the Needles and Alum Bay, and have
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something to eat on the way back. Would you come with me?” By the time that day was over, the friendship was pretty firmly established. Many years later, I said to her: “Why me?”, and she said: “I liked the look of you.” Honest to the nth degree.
She also said: “I threw myself at you, didn’t I?”. I said: “No, you didn’t throw yourself. All you did was open the door. What you were saying, in effect, was: “If you like what you see, do something about it.” The ball was always in my court, it was always up to me to make the next move, if I wanted to.”
The following day, as she was leaving for London again, I said: “Write to me”, and she said: “No, you write to me,” and I realised that of course it was not up to the girl to do the pushing, that was my job. This is the photograph she gave me as she left, with her address on the back. [photograph not included]
[page break]
[certificate]
UNIVERSITY OF READING.
It is hereby certified that HENRY W. WAGNER has been duly admitted to the Degree of Bachelor of Arts of this University. (Honours School of French Class II Division 1)
[signed] E. Smith [/signed] Registrar.
July 5, 1947. [/certificate]
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[photograph] [inserted] All my love, Darling, Joan xxxx [/inserted]
and this is one I acquired later, taken when she was a little girl.
[photograph]
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108
And so the affair progressed; we were very happy in each other’s company, and I quickly got to know her as a gentle, understanding, kind-hearted, undemanding and completely straightforward and honest, completely unselfish, and those characteristics remained with her, unchanged, for as long as she lived. There were never any words of anger, recrimination, accusation or petty temper between us. It did not take me long to realise I had got a good one.
Sometimes, I went up to London, to her home, for the week-end, sometimes she came to Henley, and we saw each other very frequently.
In the autumn of 1947, I went back to the University for one more year, to take a Diploma in Education, a necessary qualification for teaching in grammar schools. After finishing the course, I toyed with the idea of going into the R.A.F. Education Branch, but by the time the paper-work was all completed, I found out that the main requirements were for teachers of English, mathematics and physics. By that time, it was too late to apply for jobs in state-schools, but I got a job at Bodington College, Leatherhead, Surrey, a private boarding-school for boys 11 - 18, and started there in September 1948.
[photograph]
I taught mainly French and Latin, with some English, mathematics
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[missing photograph or document]
and geography. The classes were small, the fees high. The boys all came from upper-class families, and were easy to get on with. Masters were in contact with them a great deal in leisure-times. I used to run a model aircraft club, and we flew diesel-engined control-line models on the playing-filed when weather permitted, and built or repaired them on
[page break]
[University of Reading Diploma]
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110
dark evenings or in wet and windy weather. I was in charge of Rugby Football, and this led to many discussions on team selection and tactics. There were lessons in the evening instead of the afternoon, leaving afternoons free for games - I either played or refereed. There was always a match against another school or a club on Saturdays and sometimes on Wednesdays as well. In the summer I umpired cricket.
The headmaster, the Reverend J. G. Wilkie, was a man of liberal views on education, only hard on those who transgressed the boundaries of good conduct and gentlemanly behaviour. Prefects were allowed to smoke in their studies, and to brew coffee, and often when I was on duty and had seen all the boys into their dormitories and put the lights out, some of the prefects would say: “Come in and have a smoke and a cup of coffee, Mr. Wagner, and we’ll talk about Saturday’s team.”
On alternate week-ends, provided I was not on duty at the school, I used to go up to London and stay at Joan’s; the other week-ends, I went by motorcycle to Henley, and Joan came to Henley by bus, and the love-affair progressed well. One day she said to me: “Henry, are you going to marry me?” I had taken this for granted, it had never crossed my mind that it might be otherwise. I realised that a girl needs to have it put in so many words, and it was remiss of me not to have made the situation clear before. So it was settled, and the wedding was fixed for August 1949. The greatest worry was where we were going to live, as only four years after the war housing was desperately short, and we had no money to start buying a house. Talking the matter over with the Headmaster, he said that there was accommodation available in one of the blocks round the old stable-yard, which we could have at a low rent. So I spent all my available spare time redecorating this, and eventually it looked quite nice. Furniture and carpets were acquired on hire-purchase - you had to have “dockets” to get these, - and Joan
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made curtains and gradually accumulated the bare necessities. I had a radio of my own, but televisions and washing-machines were almost unheard-of, and we did not hanker after them. Nor did we have a refrigerator.
[photograph] Badingham College, from the playing-fields. [/photograph]
[photograph] My Velocette, in the stable-yard. [/photograph]
[photograph] Joan on the motorcycle, taken at Henley. [/photograph]
[photograph] Joan on holiday (right) with her friend Joan Rampton. [/photograph]
Joan made her own wedding-dress and the bridesmaids’ dresses. Joan Rampton was the chief bridesmaid, and her (Joan Rampton’s) little sister the second bridesmaid. For our honeymoon, we
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would be going to Bantry, in the far south-west corner of Ireland. These are the photos we had taken for our passports. [two photographs]
The wedding took place at 11 a.m. at Holy Trinity Church, Henley-on-Thames. Richard was my best man.
[photograph of the bride and groom]
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[photograph of the wedding party]
[photograph] Leaving the reception. [/photograph]
This was held at a hotel just
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across the street from Henley station, so we did not have far to go to the train. Train to Fishguard, overnight ferry to Cork, bus to Bantry.
On our return a fortnight later, we settled in to The Cottage, Badingham College, Leatherhead, Surrey. One of my first jobs was to go down to the bank to get out some money. I came out of the bank, and was handing over some of the money to Joan when the cashier came out. He said: “Did you know your account was overdrawn, Mr Wagner?” I must have miscalculated somehow, and I said: “No. I suppose you had better have this back, hadn’t you?”, and he said: “Yes, I suppose I had,” and took it. Joan said: “Right, I’ll see about a job then,” and immediately went and got herself a job in a grocery shop. What with her money, an advance on my salary, and a loan of £60 from my brother John, we were able to carry on until we got ourselves sorted out. But money was always scarce, as I suppose it is for nearly every newly-married couple, and there were no luxuries. We used to go to the cinema twice a week – no golf, no drinking, and holidays were in caravans or boarding-houses, travelling by motorbike. The furniture was being paid off at just over £9 a month. Food was still severely rationed. We did not ask for much – we had each other, and that was enough.
I enjoyed my work, Joan enjoyed working and being with other people. She always liked to have other people round her, and even later in life when money was not so important, preferred to be working than staying at home. We still went to London and to Henley on alternate week-ends.
The even tenor of life continued at Badingham for another three years. In the summer of 1952, on our return from holiday in Colwyn Bay, the headmaster said that, owing to expansion, he needed part of our house. That meant we would have to go. There was no chance of accomodation[sic] in the “Stockbroker Belt” of Leatherhead, so I gave in my notice for December 1952.
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and set about applying for jobs in the vicinity of Henley, as my mother was willing to put us up until we got sorted out. I got one at Earley, on the outskirts of Reading, at Woodley Hill Grammar School, a boys’ school. This meant a journey of seven miles by motorbike, but that was no hardship except on bitter winter days or in heavy rain. Richard did some auctioneering for a firm in Henley, and they had space to store our furniture above the auction-rooms, so that cost us nothing.
So in January 1953 I started work at Woodley Hill, and Joan got herself a job in a shop in Henley. Richard, being a partner in a firm of estate-agents, would keep an eye open for possible living accomodation[sic] for us, but this was still in extremely short supply. After a few months, nothing seemed to be coming up, so I began to apply for a job in South Africa, where the conditions of life would be better and we would find somewhere of our own to live. Joan was in agreement – she was always willing to try anything, and never raised any objections in major decisions of this sort. But no sooner had I started to apply than Richard came up with something that suited us absolutely. A golfing friend of his, Gerald Mundey, lived with his mother and his sister Joy on a big estate up in the woods at Harpsden, about 1½ miles out of Henley; the gardener’s cottage had become vacant, and we could have it at the modest rent of £10/month. So we moved our furniture up there and settled in. It was fairly isolated, but we got on well with the Mundeys and Joan was still out all day working. I started playing golf again and joined Marlow rugby club. Looking back, it was selfish of me to be out at rugby on Saturday afternoons and often well into the evening, and then go golfing on Sunday mornings, but Joan never complained, although she would have been perfectly right to do so. Once, playing rugby against Kodak, up in London, I broke my right ankle, and had to spend ten days in Henley hospital while it was mending. I had a few more days at home, then went back to work, riding the motorcycle with one leg encased in plaster, the leg which operated the gear-change lever.
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[photograph] Marlow Rugby Club First XV. [/photograph]
I played right-hand prop, and sometimes hooker when the need arose. The regular hooker was Budworth, on the right in the front row. He used to fly Beaufighters against terrorists in Malaya before he came to us. His wife usually accompanied us on coach-trips, and was one of the few women I ever knew who drank pints of bitter. Colin Gill, left in the front row, had a glass eye; in the course of one game, it dropped out into the mud and the game had to stop while we looked for it. The bath accomodation[sic] adjoining the changing-room was a deep recess about ten feet square sunk in the concrete, and we would settle down in the hot water after a game with pints of beer standing on the concrete behind us. After a particularly muddy game, the contents of the bath would be not so much hot water as thin liquid mud. Songs were sung. An invitation came once through the post
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for me to attend a stag-party. At the bottom of the card it said “Singing by our own choir.” Joan said: “That doesn’t sound very exciting, singing by our own choir,” and I said: “Oh, but you don’t know what our own choir will be singing.”
Many such memories of Marlow Rugby Club come back to me, such as the stag-party that got out of hand; the piano was adjudged not to be functioning correctly. Beer was poured into it without producing any improvement, so the instrument itself was dismantled, without finding the cause, and by that time nobody in a state to re-assemble it. After that, the committee put a stop to further stag-parties. Then there was the occasion when a large stag-party, complete with strippers, was held in one of the pavilions at Twickenham, attended by several clubs, and those in the know will recall that I made a libation to the gods of rugby-football on the centre spot of the pitch. The amount of pleasure I have had throughout my life from golf and rugby is really incalculable. Before I stopped playing rugby, I was made an honorary life-member, for services to the club. The club ran seven teams.
[Marlow Rugby Union Football Club card front]
[page break]
[Marlow Rugby Union Football Club card page 1]
[page break]
[Marlow Rugby Union Football Club card pages 2 and 3]
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for me to attend a stag-party. At the bottom of the card it said “Singing by our own choir.” John said: “That doesn't sound very exciting, singing by our own choir,” and I said: “Ah, but you don't know what our own choir will be singing.”
Many such memories of Marlow Rugby Club come back to me, such as the stag-party that got out of hand; the piano was adjudged not to be functioning correctly. Beer was poured into it without producing any improvement, so the instrument itself was dismantled, without finding the cause, and by that time nobody was in a state to re-assemble it. After that, the committee put a stop to further stag-parties. Then there was the occasion when a large stag-party, complete with strippers, was held in one of the pavilions at Twickenham, attended by several clubs, and those in the know will recall that I made a libation to the gods of rugby-football on the centre spot of the pitch. The amount of pleasure I have had throughout my life from golf and rugby is really incalculable. Before I stopped playing rugby, I was made an honorary life-member, for services to the club. The club ran seven teams.
Fixtures Sept. 1964 – April 1965
1st XV Captain: R.J. WELSFORD
“A” XV Captain: G.L. SPINKS
EX “A” XV Captain: P. TRUNKFIELD
“B” XV Captain: D.L.G. THOMAS
CYGNETS XV Captain: R.H. RAGG
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[Rugby fixtures Sept 1964 – April 1965]
[Rules of the ruby club]
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Eventually and inevitably there was an addition to the family. Helen was born at the maternity unit in Henley, and Joan was so proud of her, and she was certainly a lovely little girl. These photographs were taken while we were still living at Red Hatch Cottage, some in the garden, some on holiday.
[six photographs]
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[seven photographs]
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[six photographs]
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[two photographs]
We had been at Red Hatch Cottage about four years. Happy days though they were, money was still tight. I had the motorcycle fitted with a sidecar on Helen's arrival, so we could still get about. But we wanted a home of our own, and there did not seem to be much hope of getting one. I used to go to the bank on Saturday mornings to get out enough money for the week; the bank balance was often down to below £5, and I dreaded a month that had five Saturdays in it.
One day, I saw on the staff-room notice-board a circular from the National Union of Teachers asking anyone who had any salary queries to get in touch with them. For most of my time at Badingham the school was not recognised by the Ministry of Education and did not therefore count as reckonable services under the regulations. However, before I left, it was inspected and recognised. I put the point to the N.U.T. - was there any possibility of having this service all recognised for the purposes of stepping up the salary scale? They replied that it was up to the Local Education Authority. So I put the matter to the Berkshire Education Authority. I was called to the telephone one day at school – yes, they would recognise all that service, put me four steps up the ladder and give back-pay also for those four years. This amounted to some £270. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. When I got home, I said to Joan; “They rang me up from Shire Hall today. They won't recognise that service.” Terribly disappointed though she must have
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been, she put her arm round me and said; “Oh well, you tried.” All the time we were married, she never made me feel inadequate, not good enough for her, although I sometimes felt that was indeed the case – she deserved better than me. She never was sarcastic, never criticised me or made me feel small. All she had to know was that it was my best that I was doing; it may not have been a very good best sometimes, but as long as it was the best, that was sufficient. But even if things turned out well and I had not done my absolute best, I would be gently reminded. Her whole philosophy of life was based on love; she believed in being in love, she loved her husband, family and home. And in return, she always knew she was well loved. I was glad to be able to give her the happiness and security that she needed. Indeed, our marriage was secure in every respect - “Secure:- without care or anxiety, free from fear or danger, safe, confident, in safe keeping, of such strength as to ensure safety” (Chambers's Twentieth Century Dictionary.) I found this cutting many years later, tucked into Joan's writing -case; it obviously appealed to her, embodying as it does her whole philosophy.
[newspaper cutting – from the New Testament]
But I digress; I shall return to this theme later. Hiding her disappointment, and knowing I must have been disappointed too, she didn't complain but tried to console me with: “Oh well, you tried.” I let it ride for a few minutes, then told her the good news, and she was absolutely delighted. We would have enough money for the necessary 10% deposit on a house and to pay for the removal. There would be nothing to spare for the extras that would be needed, but these things would come in the fulness [sic] of time. So it was not long before we were looking around at new houses being built, and eventually settled for one on Ravensbourne Drive,
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Woodley, about three miles out of Reading and not far from the school where I worked. We used to go over on Sunday afternoons and see the progress being made, and as soon as it was ready we moved in. There was a great deal to be done getting the interior comfortable to live in, but Joan was a great home-maker. The garden was a wilderness containing a lot of builder's rubble, but I set to work to make it look nice and pleasant.
[two photographs]
Ravensbourne Drive, taken from outside our house, looking down the road (left) and up the road (right)
[two photographs]
The back garden. The back of the house.
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It was a big job getting the garden in order, but I was much indebted to John for a great amount of help – he used to come over and give a hand whenever he had the time. We mixed and laid concrete along the back of the house and at the side, and made the path running up the garden. I bought a concrete sectioned garage which we put up. I laid lawns, made a sand-pit for Helen, made the trellis and put climbing-roses on it to divide off the vegetable-garden, and planted the willow-tree. Made a coal-bunker too – there was no central-heating in those days. A whole range of kitchen cabinets as well – it was a matter of making things then rather than buying them. And always words of praise from Joan for what had been achieved.
Joan used to take Helen out to a nearby park in the afternoons, where there were swings, and it was there that she met Jean Hindley, who had her little girl with her. Joan was never backward in making friends (Think again how she got to know me), and Jean and Derek have been friends ever since. I always call into see them when I go down to Woodley, and there is always a warm welcome. We also made friends with Babs and Dave Read who lived a couple of doors along, and held lively parties
[eleven lines obscured by photograph]
had pints of mild and bitter, so it was quite obvious he had at least one redeeming feature. He used to be a Petty Officer in the Navy, on the engineering side. As I got to know him better, I
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was happy to consider him a good friend – straightforward, even-tempered, he took life very much as it came. Gradually, other inhabitants of Woodley joined us, and quite a large contingent from Woodley used to go over golfing at Henley – Jim Trevaskis, Bill Spelman, George Wall, Frank Way, Jeff Morgan and Alan Thorngate. I held the post of captain of the Henley Artisans Golfing Society at the time, and for a number of years thereafter. We played matches against the artisan sections of other clubs, and Joan and Anne used to make the sandwiches and come over and organise the teas for us. Good days they were, golfing at Henley in good company. Sunday mornings were the usual time, and after the game we would repair to the Bottle and Glass at Binfield Heath to take pre-prandial refreshment and play darts with the locals. On Friday evenings also we used to go out to one pub or another for beer and darts. And Joan put up with all this without a murmur of protest!
The school moved to new buildings at Winnersh, near Wokingham. In those days, and in such a school, teaching was a pleasant enough occupation and the boys were in general easy enough to get on with. There were exceptions, of course, but in the main they were a decent lot. On a journey from the front of the class to the back it might be necessary to give the odd boy a cuff, but the usual reaction seemed to be: “Fair enough, he caught me out,” and that was the end of it. Not so in these days, though. An action of that sort now would result in reports to the Head, parents up to the school, letters to the Education Department, and so forth. I remember writing on one boy’s report once: “Oafish stupidity is his outstanding characteristic.” At a parents’ evening his father said: “I take exception to this remark, Mr. Wagner. Can you justify it?” “Yes”, I said. “This very morning, when I had got the class settled down to work, he came in late, hurled the door open, which wrenched the door-stop out of the floor, slammed the door, and went to his place without a word of apology.” “Yes”, he said, “I see what you mean. I shall take the matter up with him.” On the other hand, on the last day of the summer term, one of my Sixth Form
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French students said: “Would you care to some out for a farewell drink, Mr. Wagner?”, so off we went. This would cause some raised eyebrows these days. I remember saying to him: “Two years ago, you were an inky little lad in the Fifth Form, now you’re a gentleman,” and that was the way with many of them.
While at The Forest Grammar School, my head of department was Keith Fletcher, an extremely able man and easy to get on with. He expected his staff to do their job competently and conscientiously, he consulted and advised, he did not lay down the law but what he said went, and he did not suffer fools gladly. He was a friend in those times, and has remained a friend every since. We see each other from time to time.
In the fulness of time, there was an addition to the family, and Philip made his appearance. In those days, it was the practice for only the first child to be born in hospital, so Philip was born at home. [Three photographs of Henry with his children]
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[Six photographs of the family]
[page break]
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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Henry Wagner's life story. Part one
Description
An account of the resource
Hand written by Henry, Part 1 covers his early life and time at university. It goes on to cover in some detail his time in the RAF, his time training in South Africa conversion to the Halifax and operations on 51 Squadron. It also covers his time as a prisoner of war and his post war career as a teacher in both England and Kenya. This part also covers his marriage, two children and their first house.
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Henry Wagner
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153 hand written pages with photographs
Language
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eng
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Text. Memoir
Text
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BWagnerHWWagnerHWv1-01
Coverage
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Civilian
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
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Great Britain
South Africa
Germany
Kenya
Germany--Winterfeld
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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IBCC Digital Archive
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David Bloomfield
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Henry was born Irish but later became a naturalised British Citizen. He talks of his early life in Ireland, going to school at Henley-on-Thames and went to Reading University. (Higher School Certificate p15). He joined the University Air Squadron. After passing his final year examinations he was called up and joined the RAF. (Photograph p 21).
He passed through the Aircrew Reception Centre in London, Brighton, and Liverpool, Henry found himself sailing to Durban, South Africa. He tried to become a pilot but failed a test in a Tiger Moth so was placed in the Navigational Training School. He met Graham Walker while there. On 23 December 1943 Henry became a Sergeant with a Navigator’s brevet. (Navigator brevet p27).
After moving through RAF West Freugh, Scotland, Henry was then posted to the OTU RAF Abingdon to learn more complex skills in addition to lectures about the Luftwaffe, Intelligence information and ‘Escape and Evasion’. Henry crewed up at Abingdon. (Photographs of crew p 34-5). The next move was to 4 Group Training School, and this confirmed for the crew that they would be flying Halifax Mark 3 aircraft. Here lectures were ‘all good stuff’.
The penultimate move was to 1952 HCU RAF Marston Moor to learn about the Halifax Mark 3 and meet Sergeant Eric Berry, flight engineer. (Photograph p37). Henry describes the duties of the navigator, the use of the ‘Master Bomber’, some of the anti-aircraft techniques that were used in the technological war. (Photograph using of the H2S p39, pieces of the ‘Window’ radar defence p50).
Finally, they moved to RAF Snaith. There Henry took part in raids on Julich near Essen x 2, Hagen (an aborted mission), Soest, in the Ruhr Valley, Duisburg x 2, Aachen, Munster, and Osnabruck. There was a degree of acceptance that they were statistically going to die during their duties.
Henry was returning from a raid when he appraised the pilot that there was a fire onboard. The pilot to decide to abandon the aeroplane, and Henry parachuted from his plane. He landed in the garden of a domestic house and explains the contents of his evasion-pack. He was captured, moved to the Aircrew Interrogation Centre was in Oberursel and then onto Stalag Luft 7 Bankau, Silesia. Here he rejoined John Trumble with whom Henry had undergone part of his training. There was an army padre at the camp and the influence Captain John Collins had on the POWs both at Stalag Luft 7 and when the men were marching to other camps is described. They arrived at Stalag 3A, Luckenwaldwe. Henry describes Red Cross parcel, daily life there, attacks of dysentery, and ‘Goon-baiting’.
When the ‘gen’ revealed the Russians were only 12 miles from the camp, the Germans abandoned them, and RAF Wing Commander Beamont assumed command of the camp. On 22 April 1945, the Russians arrived. They refused to release the POWs, so Henry and John walked 7 miles westwards where they were met by the Americans and taken to the Reception Centre, Schonebeck.
With VE declared and de-lousing completed they were returned to RAF Wing, Aylebury. He shows the graves of his crew (photographs p 99-101).
On demobbing Henry resumed his university studies and became a teacher. He married and had children. Henry went to a Stalag Luft 7 reunion in 1982.
Claire Campbell
1652 HCU
51 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
aerial photograph
air gunner
Air Observers School
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bale out
bomb aimer
briefing
C-47
Caterpillar Club
coping mechanism
crewing up
debriefing
Dulag Luft
evading
final resting place
flight engineer
Flying Training School
Gee
Halifax
Halifax Mk 3
Heavy Conversion Unit
incendiary device
killed in action
Master Bomber
military ethos
military living conditions
military service conditions
missing in action
navigator
Operational Training Unit
Pathfinders
perception of bombing war
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Abingdon
RAF Acaster Malbis
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Marston Moor
RAF Snaith
RAF West Freugh
recruitment
Red Cross
shot down
Stalag 3A
Stalag Luft 7
target indicator
target photograph
the long march
Tiger Moth
training
Whitley
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1181/30734/BWagnerHWWagnerHWv2.1.pdf
0efbf335be6b151165eb85b92857b0b8
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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Wagner, Henry Wolfe
H W Wagner
Description
An account of the resource
15 items. Two oral history interviews with Sergeant Henry Wolfe Wagner (1923 - 2020, 1604744 Royal Air Force), his memoirs, documents and photographs. He flew operations as a navigator with 51 Squadron from RAF Snaith and became a prisoner of war. He was demobbed in 1946 and returned to education where he remained until his retirement.
The collection was catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-05-04
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Wagner, HW
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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33
[underlined] BRIEFING FOR ATTACK ON ESSEN, 28/29 NOVEMBER 1944 [/underlined]
Snaith, Yorkshire, base of 51 Squadron, flying Halifax Mk. III.
Crews listed on battle order are sitting in the briefing room waiting for the Station Commander (Wing Commander Holford) and other officers to unveil the target map. Thick cigarette smoke haze. As the officers enter, chatter stops and there is a scuffling of chairs as crews stand to attention.
”Sit down, please. Well, we have our old target again tonight, and its entirely a group effort. (Just 4 Group alone.) Some 340 aircraft are taking part. The target is Essen.”
The Intelligence Officer takes over. “Most of you have been to Essen before, and it doesn't need much introduction from me. I remind you that it has the Krupp's armament works in the northern part of the town and also [inserted] / [/inserted] the [inserted] // [/inserted] railway facilities which are very important now – they are supplying the front-line troops. Your point of aim in the morning is the south-eastern part of the built-up area, which is adjoining the residential part. The Germans will be asleep at that time, so you will be able to wake them up with a good fire. The attack will be carried out in 4 waves of 2 minutes each – make careful note of your time on target. Aircraft of this squadron are in the 4th wave, 0536 to 0538. There are too many decoys around Essen for me to give you a whole list of them, but there is one big one which will be just on your starboard side three miles before you get to your aiming point. Watch out for their imitation Pathfinder marker flares – they are always weaker in colour and don't burn as long as the genuine ones. The Pathfinder marking method is Newhaven (ground markers) with Musical Wanganui (sky marking in case ground is not visible). The attack opens at H minus six minutes. The Musical Mosquitos will drop red ground markers, red and yellow sky markers, and green and yellow sky markers. Aim your bombs at these in the following order of preference :- 1) at the red target indicators if you can see them, 2) at the red markers shooting yellow stars, 3) at the green markers shooting yellow stars. The skymarkers ignite at 17,000 feet. If you attack the skymarkers, you must do so on an exact heading of 084° true. Remember, the red ground markers are the ones to go for if you can see them. There will be no Master Bomber. At the same time you are on Essen, No. 3 Group are sending 150 Lancasters to Neuss, which is south of Dusseldorf. Their route joins yours here”, he says,
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pointing at the map. “With regard to the jettisoning of any bombs – If you get over Germany you must drop your bombs live there, but an aircraft making an early return must jettison them safe at least 80 miles out in the North Sea. All aircraft are carrying propaganda leaflets tonight; you will find 2 packets stacked in the rest position. The mid-upper gunners will put these into the bomb bays through the inspection hatches immediately after take-off. One final warning – you must empty your pockets before you leave the briefing room. Don't take any papers across with you that may be of assistance to the enemy, and remember, should you bale out over the other side, the only thing you are allowed to tell the enemy is your name, your rank and your number.”
The next speaker is the Meteorological Officer. “There is a front tonight lying about 6° East, that is some 50 miles west of the target area, and it is fairly stable. For take-off, it will be clear with only moderate amounts of cloud, and visibility about 3 miles. You'll have the same conditions all the way down England until about Reading, but from there on to the French coast, you'll have small amounts of cumulus, building up over the Channel to 3 to 6 tenths, well broken, with tops about 10,000ft. There may be one or two tops at 12,000ft. From there on until 6° East, the same conditions. The tops will level off at 8,000ft [inserted] / [/inserted], and cloud cover will become more or less continuous from the front to the target area. Freezing level is about 3,000ft, icing index moderate, but you shouldn't be flying in cloud anywhere and the temperature will be about minus 24 degrees at 20,000ft.”
The Station Commander speaks again. “I'll go over the flight plan now. We are taking off on runway 32; you will each do your appointed Radius of Action, and we set course over base at 6,000 feet for Reading at a speed of 175. We hold 6,000ft down to Reading and there we open up and start climbing to cross the English coast at Beachy Head at 10,000 feet, climbing at 160 knots. At the French coast, after crossing the Channel in level flight, we climb again, reaching 12,000ft at 3° East. We do the next leg at 170, and here we start climbing again to be at 19,000 feet by 0450 hrs. We hold 19,000 at 160 knots to the target area. Our bombing height tonight is 19,000 feet, and we are at the lowest height – the others are bombing at 20 and 21 thousand feet. After bombing, increase speed to 170 on the short leg out of the target area and maintain height right through the Ruhr defences until we reach just north of Cologne; here we turn starboard and have a gentle dive, losing 2,000ft, increasing our airspeed to 190 and crossing our own
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lines, where we have a very rapid loss of height down to 8,000ft. We are losing height at 220 knots on that leg. At 8,000ft, we shall be just above the cloud tops and we are holding 8,000 straight and level at 190 to 03°20' East. Here we turn starboard again and head up towards the French coast. There is one point that you want to watch – Dunkirk. Avoid going within 3 or 4 miles of the town. Here we have a gentle climb to cross the French coast again at 12,000ft just in case we are too close to the town. As you know, the Germans are still there. Once we leave the French coast behind, we lose height again at 190 and cross back over the English coast at Orfordness at 8,000ft. We are going to hold 8,000ft. right the way up to the Humber, where we break cloud and head for base.
You will probably have 10/10 cloud over the target. You may be lucky and get a break so that you can see the target indicators, but anyway, there is one thing about that – you won't be troubled by the searchlights.
I have some times here. I'll see the pilots and engineers at 0030. The buses for your aircraft will leave at 0045. The first aircraft will take off at 0205. Set course from base at 0310, the raid opens at 0530 and you should be back for breakfast at 0820.
You will see that your chief bother will be night fighters, as it is expected to be a full moon and it will be very very bright over there – I think visibility will be probably something like a mile. The Signals Officer will tell you about 100 Group's (Radio Counter Measures) work tonight and their efforts to jam the enemy's radar. After leaving a point here, near Cologne, we do have this rapid loss of height of 8 - 9,000ft and that is primarily to try and fox the fighters. The rest of the way back, I should think, will be fairly quiet. Just one or two more points: we have radar silence to 05°30' East, and there are to be no navigation lights on after we leave the English coast.”
The bombing leader is next to speak. “All aircraft tonight have the same load – one 2,000 lb. high capacity bomb and twelve SBC's (small bomb containers) each containing 90 4lb. incendiaries. All aircraft are carrying photo flares and cameras. Master bomber switch will be put on for take-off and switched off once you set course and do not put it on again until you reach 06°30' East, then it has to be entered in the navigator's log. [inserted] /// [/inserted] Put your camera heater switch on before you take off and leave it on right through the target and switch it off after you have cleared the camera. Select your bombs once you have left the English coast and switch on your bomb sight a good 20 minutes before you reach your
[page break]
36
target so you will be quite prepared for your run up.
If you have to bomb on Wanganui flares, apart from the heading 084° True, you have to have zero wind set at true height on the bomb sight. There is a delay of 10 seconds between the release of the 2000 lb. bomb and the SBC's, and this must be counted very carefully. After bombing, put the jettison bars across. After you have passed through the target area, press the bomb release once, clear the camera and put the camera heater off. I possible, do your visual check on the bomb bays over Germany because then if you have any hang up you can release it live on Germany; otherwise do it over the Channel on your way back, and remember that it has to be entered in the engineer's log this time. I'll see the bomb-aimers 15 minutes before transport time for a final check.
The Signals Officer takes over. “As you've already been told, there's both WT and radar silence up to 04°30'. Keep your H2S switched off up to that point and then use it throughout the trip. The mid-upper gunner should switch the modular off when you get into the aircraft and, navigators, switch your H2S on normally when you reach 04°30' and tell your mid-upper to switch the modular on for you to save you going back and forward. There's HF, (high frequency), AI (air interception) and VHF and Wurzburg plotting by the Germans, all of which are being jammed, and there's a special Windowing force out covering you. We're carrying our own Window as well; start that off at 05°30' to the target and back to 04°00'. You are carrying two types, the broad and the ordinary. The rates are – the broad type two minutes throughout the area, and the ordinary two minutes within 20 miles radius of the target. Your RT call sign is Beatem. Check watches with your navigator as you get into the aircraft. Check with the navigator what H-hour is. Z should be used; switch it on when taking off and switch it off at the English coast coming in. The usual rules for IFF apply (Identification – Friend or Foe).”
Final encouragement from the C.O. “It's a good target tonight. It's the largest armaments works in the world, so let's have a really steady bombing run and put an end to it. The job is also to complete the destruction of an already heavily-devastated town. There isn't much of Essen left, so it needs all the more accurate bombing. Best of Luck.”
[page break]
37
Debriefing report from W/O Bates' crew. “Arrived at target 2 minutes late. Attacked at 0539 from 19,000 feet heading 084°. Bombed on green/yellow Wanganui flares through 10/10 cloud. No ground markers visible, but glow of incendiary bombs through cloud indicated a good fire well concentrated. Flak on the heavy side in the target area; some fighters seen but no attacks made. Good navigational coverage by GEE. Weather turned out much as forecast, with cloud commencing inside the continental coast, increasing to mainly 10/10 at target, tops 8 - 10,000 feet. Visibility good above cloud.”
Result of raid compiled for squadron record. “Skymarkers were not plentiful. The green/yellow appeared to be 1/2 mile south of the red/yellow. The glow of red target indicators, or fires, could be seen below cloud together with a white glow of incendiaries. The raid appeared to be fairly concentrated but it is impossible to state whether on the target or not. Some fighters seen. Moderate heavy flak, rather on the low side. No searchlights.”
Report from group. “On the night of 28/29 November, 316 bombers were despatched; 308 attacked, dropping 1,199 tons of bombs comprising 1,024 tons of high explosive and 175 tons of incendiaries. Only 2 aircraft were lost, a very unusual and welcome occurrence; much of the credit for this can be given to 100 Group aircraft which swamped the Ruhr defences, so much so that the fighters were not able to take instructions from the ground. The photo-reconnaissance report said that the attack again spread destruction over the whole area of the city and works and it particularly noted new points of damage throughout the Krupp's armament works. Some of the points were clearly from new hits, others appeared to be the result of collapse or clearance of structures damaged in previous attacks. The identified buildings to which new or further damage was seen included power-houses, foundries, rolling-mills, furnace-shops, engineering shops and others concerned with armament and heavy steel production.”
After the Essen raid, aircrew of 51 Squadron had little sleep – those on battle-orders were out again the following night on another Ruhr target – Duisberg.
[page break]
38 [inserted] Equipment operated by 100 Group (Radio Counter Measures) (also German Knickebein.) Various other items of equipment carried by Main Force aircraft. [/inserted]
[underlined] Mandrel [/underlined]: a radio device which jammed the German early-warning radar. Aircraft flew a “race-course” pattern, jamming continuously. The Germans knew the main force was approaching behind the mandrel screen, but did not know exactly where it would emerge or on what course. GEE did not function when Mandrel transmitters were operating. Transmitters operated on fixed frequencies, except for Mandrel III which was designed for spot-jamming, and incorporated a receiver to allow the operator to identify an incoming signal and tune his transmitter accordingly.
[symbol] [underlined] Shiver: [/underlined]: a modified IFF set with an additional special setting: it produced a jamming signal aimed at German Wurzburgs and fire-control radar.
[symbol] [underlined] Monica [/underlined]: tail-warning radar, with indicator at W/operator's station.
[underlined] Knickebein [/underlined]: German blind-bombing system. One beam was aimed at the target and another crossed it at right angles indicating the bomb release point. It occurred to the Counter Measures Group that if they could locate the beams, they could equally well fly down them and attack the transmitting stations. This was done in Nov. 1940, but such attacks were hotly contested by the Germans.
[underlined] Oboe [/underlined] A similar system, radar not radio, operated by Mosquitoes for target-marking, and of very great accuracy.
[symbol] [underlined] Airborne Grocer [/underlined]: device for barrage-jamming of Wurzburgs. [inserted] Extremely vulnerable to being homed onto. [/inserted]
[underlined] Bagful [/underlined]: a device for making a permanent record on paper-tape, detailing wavelength, time and duration of incoming signals.
[underlined] Blonde [/underlined]: an automatic camera which provided a continuous record of signals within a specified band, as received by a Cathode Ray Tube.
[symbol] [underlined] Coalscuttle [/underlined]: modification to aircraft's existing H2S navigational radar to give a visual bearing once every 30 secs. on a signal under investigation.
[symbol] [underlined] Airborne Cigar [/underlined] (ABC): communications jammer on VHF, used to jam reception of a running commentary on position, course and altitude of Allied bomber formations.
[symbol] [underlined] Piperack [/underlined]: a jammer aimed at enemy Airborne Interception (A.I.) radars.
[symbol] [underlined] Carpet: [/underlined] a device aimed at enemy Ground Controlled Interception (C.G.I.) radars.
[symbol] [underlined] Boozer [/underlined]: tail-warning radar, with indicator within pilot's field of view.
[underlined] Z [/underlined]: infra-red identification equipment.
[symbol] [underlined] Jostle [/underlined]: VHF communications jammer.
[symbol] [underlined] Fishpond [/underlined]: tail-warning radar making use of H2S scanner.
[underlined] Village Inn [/underlined]: gun-laying radar for tail-turret.
[underlined] Flower [/underlined]: an intruder sortie, usually by Mosquitoes, against German night-fighter airfields during bomber operations.
[underlined] Mahmoud [/underlined]: a sortie flown by a single aircraft against German night-fighter assembly points in the hope of catching the interceptors before they were vectored onto the bombers.
[symbol] [underlined] Serrate [/underlined]: a homer aimed at German AI (Airborne Interception) radar (Lichtenstein).
[symbol] [underlined] Perfectos [/underlined]: a homer designed to trigger off and then take a bearing on German AI radar.
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105
[symbol] [underlined] Moonshine [/underlined]: a jammer designed to produce spuriously large returns on German Freya early-warning radar, by picking up its signals and re-transmitting a boosted signal.
[underlined] Rebecca [/underlined]: the airborne interrogator end of a two-part system using a ground-beacon called Eureka. Designed as a homing system for the identification of ground forces during supply drops.
[symbol] [underlined] Tinsel [/underlined]: a microphone fitted in the port inner engine nacelle; it transmitted engine noise via the wireless-operator's TR 1154 on the frequency of the German night-fighter control net, jamming radio instructions to the fighters.
[underlined] Corona [/underlined] Broadcast from England, using native German speakers, giving in plain language false instructions about the bomber-stream and the target. They were thus competing with the genuine fighter-controllers in Germany, so that crews did not know who to believe. Furthermore, the two sets of controllers started slanging each other, and confusion reigned. Then the Germans started using female controllers, but this had been foreseen, and German-speaking women were standing by in England, and took over immediately.
Dublin Core
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Title
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An account of the briefing for an operation to Essen
Description
An account of the resource
An extremely detailed account of the No 51 Squadron briefing for the operation to Essen on 28/29 November 1944 by Henry. It includes all the specialist officers as well as the Station Commander's brief. It also includes Henry's crew, Station and Group action reports. There is also a comprehensive list and description of the Electronic Counter Measure techniques used by No 100 Group.
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Henry Wagner
Date
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1944-11-28
1944-11-29
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Seven handwritten pages
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eng
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Text
Text. Memoir
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BWagnerHWWagnerHWv2
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
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England--Yorkshire
Germany--Essen
Great Britain
Germany
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
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1944-11-28
1944-11-29
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Roger Dunsford
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IBCC Digital Archive
100 Group
3 Group
4 Group
51 Squadron
aerial photograph
aircrew
briefing
debriefing
Gee
ground personnel
H2S
Halifax
Halifax Mk 3
incendiary device
Lancaster
meteorological officer
Oboe
Pathfinders
propaganda
RAF Snaith
reconnaissance photograph
target indicator
target photograph
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1671/30465/BCameronDCameronDv1.1.pdf
b0bff7f94bf1612f872c86b64efb811e
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Title
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Cameron, Don
D Cameron
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2020-08-20
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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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.
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[Illustration showing Lancaster Bomber with following text superimposed]
World War II & Flying Memoirs
by Donald Cameron
[handwritten] To Neil & Diane
With love from Dad
Don Cameron
June 6, 2000 [/handwritten]
[page break]
[italics] Donald Cameron World War II and Flying Memoirs [/italics]
[Photo of man in RAF uniform]
[bold] How did I get to be in Scotland and England for 15 years? [/bold]
Most of you will have heard this story already, but just in case, here it is again.
In 1937, my sister, Miriam arranged to spend her summer holidays with a visit to Scotland. I went with Mum and Dad to see her off at Union Station. I don’t think the train was out of sight, when Dad said, “Let’s go off to Scotland too”.
I told them that I could not really go, because I had promised to go to a boys’ camp at a farm just north of Klienburg, as nature study leader. This camp was got going by one of my brothers Ken’s friends, Al Richardson. The boys were mostly from Dufferin St. Baptist Church. We had cycled up there quite often in the spring to get things all set up. Of course Ken could not go either, because he was already working.
Well my parents quickly arranged for Mrs Mascall to be our housekeeper while they were away and Mum and Dad took off for their holiday in Scotland.
1938 was the year of the Empire Exhibition in Glasgow Scotland and I was hoping that somehow I get to see it. We had friends, Dr. Ernie and Bella Pallet. We knew them as Uncle Ernie was a government veterinarian. He suggested that I should work my way to Scotland on a cattle boat. I went for that in a big way, so he
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[italics] Donald Cameron World War II and Flying Memoirs [/italics]
arranged the whole thing. I was to start my trip at the stock yards at St. Clair and Keele Street, where I was to get aboard the caboose of the cattle train. Actually I first had to climb up into the shunting engine, while they were hooking up the train, great fun for a sixteen year old. Then I climbed down and changed into the caboose. This part of my journey cost $2.00. There were three of us in the caboose, me and an old Glasgow man, as well as the regular guard. It was quite a ride. Canadian Pacific had started their express freight trains, which was something new at that time. I was surprised to see a spanking new passenger engine on the front of our train. I was able to sit up top and look out over the train and all around as we took off along the CP line across the city just north of Dupont St. very close to home, then out through Agincourt on the line that still comes through Whitby. As night came on I was given a mattress to sleep on and it was on top of what looked like a storage chest, with a flat top. Everything was just dandy until the engineer decided to slam on the brakes. This was no stop like on a passenger train. I went sliding, mattress and all right off the bed place and hit the front of the caboose. The guard had a good laugh. So did I, once I realised that nothing was wrong. This happened just near Trenton.
Next day, I had to arrange about signing on as part of the crew of the cattle boat. Apparently I was the youngest of the lot. They decided that that I should be pantry boy and that did not please me at al. I had hoped to be looking after the cattle. Strangely, the cattle were breeding stock. Usually, I thought, Canada imported breeding cattle from Europe, but apparently it worked both ways.
One of my duties was to take the brass ventilators off the officers’ cabin doors, polish them, and put them back on. I had them all set up in the pantry, perched myself on a high stool and started to clean them up. Well, the captain came by and started yelling at me. I hadn’t a clue was [sic] he was saying, although I found out later that he came from Port Gordon in Banffshire where my mother was from. Anyway, I got fired as pantry boy and was put with the other cattlemen. I was happy about that. We had a real nice smooth trip across the Atlantic. It was like a mill pond. A big Basking Shark seemed to follow us all the way. I had never seen one of them before.
There were all sorts of surprises; we were not strictly a cattle boat; we had other cargo as well. I remember watching as they loaded all sorts of stuff. I remember that there were crates marked Singer Sewing Machines. As we sailed up the Clyde, I was surprised to see the big Singer Sewing Machine factory on the banks of the Clyde.
We docked at Princess Dock in Glasgow, right in the centre of the city. We were told to wait board until Customs and Immigration came aboard to clear us. Well I sat for a good half hour and then decided that nobody seemed anxious to see me. So off I went. I had an address to go to and started off on a tram. I was meeting Emily Gault, one of the women who made our house their meeting place. These women were in Toronto in domestic Service. Emily worked in Rosedale.
We got together alright and I made some visits to the Empire Exhibition. Then Emily was to take me north to
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[italics] Donald Cameron World War II and Flying Memoirs [/italics]
visit her family in Thurso, right up in the very north of Scotland. I remember that I had a hard time realising that it could possibly be 11 p.m. and still be quite light.
[blank space - missing photo?]
My big memory from his visit was my first flight in an aircraft. The lane was a DeHaviland bi-plane with a crew of one, the pilot. The door to the cockpit was left open and I wondered how this guy could fly this plane and take pictures of the WWI battleships that had been scuttles in Scapa Flow back in those old days.
After that I went to visit all my relatives in Buckie and Aberchirder. Finally I settled in Aberdeen with Aunt Miriam and Uncle John. I had a great summer holiday.
My father had asked me to look at a course with the North of Scotland College of Agriculture. We intended to go into a horticulture business together, once I graduated from my training. I really did not want to train in Scotland and told him that I would much prefer to go to Niagara College for my training. The result was that I suddenly realised that I was due to report in Glasgow for my return trip to Canada, but had never gone to see the college in Aberdeen. Their head office was in an old Victorian building at 41 ½ Union Street on the 5th floor. The elevator was an old fashioned wire covered affair, which did not impress me at all. I took a look at the big mahogany door with frosted glass and gold lettering and decided this was not for me. Before I had turned to come away a woman came up behind me. She said, “You want the North of Scotland College of Agriculture? This way.” She seemed to almost push me through the door. I know she did not actually, but anyhow I was in.
Well they did have a good course. One of my spur of the moment decisions made me sign up for the course. So there I was a guest of my aunt and uncle which my Dad had arranged if I should decide to stay. Before I could start my course, they required a year’s experience working in horticulture. If I wanted, I could work without pay, in their experimental gardens at Craibstone. I started almost immediately.
As Craibstone was about 5 miles from where I lived in Aberdeen, I soon got permission to buy a bicycle.
I well remember the day war was declared. On Sunday, September 3rd, 1939 I came out from morning
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worship service to find that special editions of the Press and Journal were being sold on the street corners. Britain had declared war on Germany after they refused to withdraw from Poland. We had been reading about their Blitzkreig tactics throughout their take over of so many countries in Europe. I thought, “They will sink this little island!”
By this time I had finished my year at Craibstone. I started the course and I did finish my first year. Of course by this time Britain was at war with Germany. The government wanted to increase food production as much as possible. I was asked if I would postpone my training until after the war. I told them that I felt sure the answer would be, “Yes”, but as I was here at my father’s expense, it would have to be his answer. His reply to my cable agreed. The college then employed me at Craibstone as one of their gardeners
Britain had conscription, so one by one the workers were absorbed into the armed forces. I gradually took over different jobs. The last one I took over was to operate their big Dennis power mower. The lawns were to be cut with light and dark stripes and very straight. Mowing one direction I would make a light stripe. Going back the opposite direction it showed up as dark. The job was to keep all lines straight. Mr. Cox, their head gardener wondered whether I could manage this task. I was willing to try. He watched as I did a few lines and decided that I could do the job just fine. I must admit that they did look good.
My age group came along for conscription. I reported, showing my passport to show them my age. They told me that I was not a resident, just a visitor and could not be conscripted. I was amazed and asked if anything could stop me from volunteering. No, I could certainly do that. I made my way to the RAF recruiting office and volunteered for the RAFVR (Volunteer Reserve).
Eventually I was asked to report at Lord’s Cricket Grounds in London. We were in a holding centre until we could finally be sent to an ITW (Initial Training Wing). They were really pushing pilot trainees through at this time and all ITW’s were going at capacity. I was sent instead, to a bomber airfield, Hemswell in Lincolnshire, where the education officer did his best to teach us what we had to know. I did manage to pass, although more than half of our course did not make it. They were sent to a regular ITW.
After finishing my ITW course at Hemswell in Lincolnshire, I was eventually posted to a holding centre in the Metropole Hotel in Brighton. This seemed to be a place where trainees were kept until somewhere would be available to start them on their flying training. In all I was there for 16 weeks. It was a case of being present for morning parade, where a roll call ensured that you were present. This was followed by a march along the promenade, for no better reason than there was nothing else to do with us. It did not take long for a few of us to find that being in the tail end of this parade, we could easily vanish down a side street and be lost. There was a convenient Lyon’s café, that had delicious crumpets and marmalade. The local YMCA, I think it was, had a good billiard table. I became pretty good with billiards and snooker during this period. I did get a task to do in the post office in the hotel. Apart from sorting out the mail for inmates like myself, we also collected the old newspapers for
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disposal. I started doing the Daily Telegraph crossword puzzle, which developed my liking for good crosswords. We did get really fed up down in Brighton. A posting to Rhodesia came up, so I volunteered to goo there for my flying training. After getting various inoculations for all sorts of diseases, I got a week’s embarkation leave. Then I was told that since I came from overseas, I could not be sent overseas for my training. Apparently they had lost one or two who had just vanished once they were away from Britain.
Eventually I did get a posting to an elementary flying training school at Booker, near Marlow in Buckinghamshire. I was happy at last to be flying, but it had taken until March 23rd, 1942 to get to this stage. I thoroughly enjoyed flying. Apart from my actual training there are events that I will never forget.
Early in my training my instructor was flying us to an auxiliary field. I decided that my harness was not tight enough. I pulled the release and began to pull them tighter when I noticed that the horizon was beginning to slowly go around. He was doing a slow roll. I had no time to even attempt to do up any of my harness. All I could do was to brace myself on the sides of my cockpit and hold myself from dropping out as the ground went slowly pas as I looked down at it. When I told him what had happened he had a good laugh.
Again, early in my flying, it might have been my first flight (but I’m not sure about that), my instructor, an ex-fighter pilot got together with a Boston fighter bomber. The two of them decided to have a mock dog fight. It was great fun, but my poor stomach. It was not accustomed yet to this kind of thing. I sat, holding my stomach, but enjoying the whole thing.
My first experience at night flying was quite something. We took off into the inky blackness of the blackout. The idea was to fly a square pattern to the left after getting up to 1000 ft. Then as we turned to complete the square, we should find that we were approaching the landing strip again ready for descending to make a landing. It was a scary feeling, to think that we were actually doing this with no navigation aids at all. However after several circuits it gradually became just the thing to do.
I was in real trouble on Easter weekend. The day before the weekend I was flying solo doing circuits and landings. I came in to land, right in front of the commanding officer’s office. There was a gusty sort of wind and I had trouble getting the plane to land. Right away I remembered the important instructions. With any difficulty in landing, give the engine full power and go round again for anther[sic] circuit. I opened up the throttle and got the shock of my life. My port wing just dropped and hit the ground and the poor old Tiger Moth flipped right over, nose to the ground, leaving me hanging upside down in my harness. I quickly released my harness and dropped onto the ground. Then I remembered – turn off the ignition switch. I crawled back under the plane and did so. I was to report to the commanding officer right after Easter weekend.
I went into London for the weekend, and spent the time with my brother, Ken. He was stationed at RCAF
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headquarters in London at Canada House. Unfortunately I forgot the the[sic] last train from Marlebone Station left 5 minutes earlier on Sunday nights. I just missed it. In fact I saw it pulling out of the station. We went to Ken’s place overnight, and I got up and made my way to the station, but the train I got was not the first one in the morning. I was on the mat for not being back to base by 11:59 hrs. I had to see the Commanding Officer about that. Well it turned out that he gave me 7 days jankers for that. Then I had to wait to see him about my upside down landing. I was really down in the dumps, thinking I would probably fail as a pilot. What a surprise when he sent a message out that he did not want to see me about this, as he had watched my attempted landing and said I had done everything right. What a relief. I didn’t mind my 7 days of picking up litter etc. after that.
After 41 hrs. 5 min. of flying training at Booker there was another change of policy. There would be no more flying training in Britain. All training would be overseas.
All pilot trainees were to have a flying test after 8 hours flying to judge whether they should continue as pilot trainees or switch to some other aircrew training. I was told that I was to be sent to the U.S.A. for my training. We got the impression that they were sending the better flyers to the “General Arnold” scheme. I don’t think I was any better than most, but my 8 hour test was done after 41 hours flying.
Primary Training, Lakeland Florida. PT 17.(Stearman)
I finished flying at Booker EFTS on May 10th, 1942. We were sent overseas in the old ‘Leticia’ which had been converted into a troop transport. We soon found ourselves in Moncton, New Brunswick, awaiting posting to get flying once again. I somehow found that we would be two or three weeks, so applied for leave to visit Mum and Dad in Toronto. I got it! It was great to see them again and to visit with lots of people that I knew. Then it was back to Moncton where we found a good swimming hole beside a railway line, not far from our base.
Finally we boarded the troop train, which was to take us to somewhere in the southern States. One of our stops turned out to be in the Union Station in Toronto. It looked as though we would be there for a while, so I phoned home and told Mum which platform we were stuck on. She came down and was able to meet a good few of my friends who were training with me. I think she was able to spend about an hour talking to us all.
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Fourth row, fourth from right:
[photograph]
Course 43B
Lodwick School of Aeronautics[?] 1942.
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Donald Cameron: World War II and Flying Memoirs
worship service to find that special editions of the Press and Journal were being sold on the street corners. Britain had declared war on Germany after they refused to withdraw from Poland. We had been reading about their Blitzkreig tactics throughout their take over of so many countries in Europe. I thought, “They will sink this little island!”
By this time I had finished my year at Craibstone. I started the course and I did finish my first year. Of course by this time Britain was at war with Germany. The government wanted to increase food production as much as possible. I was asked if I would postpone my training until after the war. I told them that I felt sure the answer would be, “Yes”, but as I was here at my father’s expense, it would have to be his answer. His reply to my cable agreed. The college then employed me at Craibstone as one of their gardeners
Britain had conscription, so one by one the workers were absorbed into the armed forces. I gradually took over different jobs. The last one I took over was to operate their big Dennis power mower. The lawns were to be cut with light and dark stripes and very straight. Mowing one direction I would make a light stripe. Going back the opposite direction it showed up as dark. The job was to keep all lines straight. Mr. Cox, their head gardener wondered whether I could manage this task. I was willing to try. He watched as I did a few lines and decided that I could do the job just fine. I must admit that they did look good.
My age group came along for conscription. I reported, showing my passport to show them my age. They told me that I was not a resident, just a visitor and could not be conscripted. I was amazed and asked if anything could stop me from volunteering. No, I could certainly do that. I made my way to the RAF recruiting office and volunteered for the RAFVR (Volunteer Reserve).
Eventually I was asked to report at Lord’s Cricket Grounds in London. We were in a holding centre until we could finally be sent to an ITW (Initial Training Wing). They were really pushing pilot trainees through at this time and all ITW’s were going at capacity. I was sent instead, to a bomber airfield, Hemswell in Lincolnshire, where the education officer did his best to teach us what we had to know. I did manage to pass, although more than half of our course did not make it. They were sent to a regular ITW.
After finishing my ITW course at Hemswell in Lincolnshire, I was eventually posted to a holding centre in the Metropole Hotel in Brighton. This seemed to be a place where trainees were kept until somewhere would be available to start them on their flying training. In all I was there for 16 weeks. It was a case of being present for morning parade, where a roll call ensured that you were present. This was followed by a march along the promenade, for no better reason than there was nothing else to do with us. It did not take long for a few of us to find that being in the tail end of this parade, we could easily vanish down a side street and be lost. There was a convenient Lyon’s café, that had delicious crumpets and marmalade. The local YMCA, I think it was, had a good billiard table. I became pretty good with billiards and snooker during this period. I did get a task to do in the post office in the hotel. Apart from sorting out the mail for inmates like myself, we also collected the old newspapers for
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disposal. I started doing the Daily Telegraph crossword puzzle, which developed my liking for good crosswords. We did get really fed up down in Brighton. A posting to Rhodesia came up, so I volunteered to goo there for my flying training. After getting various inoculations for all sorts of diseases, I got a week’s embarkation leave. Then I was told that since I came from overseas, I could not be sent overseas for my training. Apparently they had lost one or two who had just vanished once they were away from Britain.
Eventually I did get a posting to an elementary flying training school at Booker, near Marlow in Buckinghamshire. I was happy at last to be flying, but it had taken until March 23rd, 1942 to get to this stage. I thoroughly enjoyed flying. Apart from my actual training there are events that I will never forget.
Early in my training my instructor was flying us to an auxiliary field. I decided that my harness was not tight enough. I pulled the release and began to pull them tighter when I noticed that the horizon was beginning to slowly go around. He was doing a slow roll. I had no time to even attempt to do up any of my harness. All I could do was to brace myself on the sides of my cockpit and hold myself from dropping out as the ground went slowly pas as I looked down at it. When I told him what had happened he had a good laugh.
Again, early in my flying, it might have been my first flight (but I’m not sure about that), my instructor, an ex-fighter pilot got together with a Boston fighter bomber. The two of them decided to have a mock dog fight. It was great fun, but my poor stomach. It was not accustomed yet to this kind of thing. I sat, holding my stomach, but enjoying the whole thing.
My first experience at night flying was quite something. We took off into the inky blackness of the blackout. The idea was to fly a square pattern to the left after getting up to 1000 ft. Then as we turned to complete the square, we should find that we were approaching the landing strip again ready for descending to make a landing. It was a scary feeling, to think that we were actually doing this with no navigation aids at all. However after several circuits it gradually became just the thing to do.
I was in real trouble on Easter weekend. The day before the weekend I was flying solo doing circuits and landings. I came in to land, right in front of the commanding officer’s office. There was a gusty sort of wind and I had trouble getting the plane to land. Right away I remembered the important instructions. With any difficulty in landing, give the engine full power and go round again for anther[sic] circuit. I opened up the throttle and got the shock of my life. My port wing just dropped and hit the ground and the poor old Tiger Moth flipped right over, nose to the ground, leaving me hanging upside down in my harness. I quickly released my harness and dropped onto the ground. Then I remembered – turn off the ignition switch. I crawled back under the plane and did so. I was to report to the commanding officer right after Easter weekend.
I went into London for the weekend, and spent the time with my brother, Ken. He was stationed at RCAF
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headquarters in London at Canada House. Unfortunately I forgot the the[sic] last train from Marlebone Station left 5 minutes earlier on Sunday nights. I just missed it. In fact I saw it pulling out of the station. We went to Ken’s place overnight, and I got up and made my way to the station, but the train I got was not the first one in the morning. I was on the mat for not being back to base by 11:59 hrs. I had to see the Commanding Officer about that. Well it turned out that he gave me 7 days jankers for that. Then I had to wait to see him about my upside down landing. I was really down in the dumps, thinking I would probably fail as a pilot. What a surprise when he sent a message out that he did not want to see me about this, as he had watched my attempted landing and said I had done everything right. What a relief. I didn’t mind my 7 days of picking up litter etc. after that.
After 41 hrs. 5 min. of flying training at Booker there was another change of policy. There would be no more flying training in Britain. All training would be overseas.
All pilot trainees were to have a flying test after 8 hours flying to judge whether they should continue as pilot trainees or switch to some other aircrew training. I was told that I was to be sent to the U.S.A. for my training. We got the impression that they were sending the better flyers to the “General Arnold” scheme. I don’t think I was any better than most, but my 8 hour test was done after 41 hours flying.
Primary Training, Lakeland Florida. PT 17.(Stearman)
I finished flying at Booker EFTS on May 10th, 1942. We were sent overseas in the old ‘Leticia’ which had been converted into a troop transport. We soon found ourselves in Moncton, New Brunswick, awaiting posting to get flying once again. I somehow found that we would be two or three weeks, so applied for leave to visit Mum and Dad in Toronto. I got it! It was great to see them again and to visit with lots of people that I knew. Then it was back to Moncton where we found a good swimming hole beside a railway line, not far from our base.
Finally we boarded the troop train, which was to take us to somewhere in the southern States. One of our stops turned out to be in the Union Station in Toronto. It looked as though we would be there for a while, so I phoned home and told Mum which platform we were stuck on. She came down and was able to meet a good few of my friends who were training with me. I think she was able to spend about an hour talking to us all.
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Fourth row, fourth from right:
[photograph]
Course 43B
Lodwick School of Aeronautics[?] 1942.
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While flying Oxfords, I was sent to Docking in Norfolk to practice the use of radio beam approach. Off to one side of the beam the radio signal was the letter ‘A’ in Morse code. On the other side it was ’N’. When the dot?dash merged with the dash/dot, they made a constant continuous signal and that was right on the beam.
My flying at Windrush was completed on July 20th, 1943. I was given a 72 hour pass, before reporting to No. 26 OTU (Operational Training Unit) at RAF Station Wing. On the train heading up to Aberdeen, a fellow asked what I was doing on this leave. I told him that I only had a three day pass and had no idea whether I was going to my wedding or not. I soon found out. Mary and I were married on July 24, 1943. It was a beautiful sunny Saturday too. It was in the middle of the Aberdeen Trades Week holiday and there were no facilities open for the reception. We had 14 at the reception in Mary’s Aunt’s tenement flat, next door to where Mary lived. My Aunt Barbara happened to be in Aberdeen that weekend. I insisted that she come to the wedding. She said she was ‘Black Affronted’ she had nothing to wear. I insisted that she come in whatever she was wearing. We, of course, had nowhere to go for even a brief honeymoon, but another friend, Jean, got on the telephone to another friend, Jeanie.
Jeanie had the hotel in Huntly. The phone call was hilarious. It started something like this, “Is that you Jeanie? Well this is Jean. There’s this couple just newly married. They just have this weekend. Could you put them up?” When we got to Huntly, (incidentally, my Aunt Barbara travelled with us on her way back to Buckie) we found that Jeanie had cleared out the Bridal Suite for us. (Short but sweet, the honeymoon).
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Operational Training Unit
Strangely enough, I was a day late in reporting to No. 26 Operational Training Unit, and even more strangely, nothing was ever said about it. Here, at RAF Station Wing, (Little Horwood) I was crewed up and we flew Wellingtons Mk. 3’s and 10’s. Our flying began on August 16th 1943. We worked up to our special exercise, dropping leaflets on Rouen in France. I have included this with my operational flying in detail.
During some of my night flying, I had a new experience. While taking off one night one of my tyres burst. I did manage to get the plane off the ground, but called up to let control know about it. My flight commander came on the
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radio and told me to just circle until all night flying was completed. My crew were of differing opinions as to which tyre was gone. I felt that it was the port main wheel. My bomb aimer was sure it was the starboard wheel. I decided to go with my own decision, because I was flying the plane, and it certainly felt like the port wheel. After many tedious hours of circling the airfield I got instructions to land. My flight commander spoke to me, giving me very detailed instructions as to what to do. I was to land using the starboard wheel to land on. I was to try to keep my port wheel off the runway as long as possible. I could expect the plane to veer off the runway as once the port wheel came down. I had to repeat everything back to him. Then he wished me a good landing, and said that he would be right behind me on his motor bike when I landed. Well I got it down on the starboard wheel, but as soon as we lost all lift the port wheel came down we veered into inky blackness. When we finally came to a stop, he was right there. I was calling each of the crew to make sure they were OK. He yelled to me to get out in case of a fire. Luckily there was no fire, but I did find the end of my port propellor imbedded about six inches behind my head. Nobody was hurt!
It was while we were here that Mary sent me a telegram telling me that grandmother had died. She did not specify that it had been her grandmother, so I figured I might get some time off. I went in to the commanding officer with the telegram and he gave me a 72 hour pass. I could leave in the morning after finishing all my night flying that night. By the time I arrived in Aberdeen, I had fallen asleep in the train. Mary had come to the station, but no Don. The cleaners came in, because the train had to leave again, so luckily they wakened me and I arrived at 31 Justice Street not very long after Mary and her uncle.
That crew of mine was split up after my navigator, Hugh Maher (pronounced Marr) RCAF, was invalided out of the air force and sent home to Montreal.
I was posted to No. 17 OTU at Silverstone, to take over a headless crew. Neither they nor I were very happy about this, but we soon got to know each other. They had not completed their OTU training, so I flew with them until they had all completed their various exercises.
We advanced from OTU first to 1651 Conversion Unit at RAF Station, Wratting Common, where we all had to get familiar with flying the Short Stirling. We flew the Stirling Mks. 1 and 3. I did not like the Stirling. This took us to January 5th, 1944.
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So much for the Stirling; we were off to 1678 C.F. Waterbeach where we were introduced to the Lancaster Mk.2. My first flip in the Lancaster was familiarisation with F/O Coles. Again we had a burst tyre. F/O Coles made a beautiful landing at Newmarket Race Course. On January 25th, 1944 we were sent to 115 Squadron at Witchford, near Ely. I was now a flight sergeant.
October 4th, 1943: Special Exercise
This was my first flight over enemy occupied Europe. I wondered how I would react. Fortunately I was O.K.
On this night there was a raid by 406 aircraft on Frankfurt, with a diversionary 66 Lancasters bombing Ludwigshafen. There were 12 Mosquitoes went to Knapsack power-station, 1 mosquito to Aachen, 5 Stirlings did mine laying in the River Gironde, 8 O.T.U. sorties. There were no losses on the Ludwigshave [sic] raid. On the Frankfurt raid there were 10 RAF aircraft lost, 5 Halifaxes, 3 Lancasters, 2 Stirlings. One of 3 American B17’s was lost. I was one of the 8 O.T.U. sorties. We were not aware of these other activities.
At this time I was doing my operational training, flying Wellingtons, at RAF Station, Wing. We were to go on a special exercise, our first time over enemy territory. We were to fly to Rouen in France, then up wind, a distance predetermined by the winds at the time. Then we were to drop our leaflets which would float down to Rouen to inform the French people a bit of what the Allies were doing 2.
It was a funny feeling to be flying over enemy controlled territory for the first time. Our route was planned for us, but unlike later bombing raids there was no exact timing. We were to fly south to the Needles (Isle of Wight), then across to Fecampe on the French coast, south to Rouen, and then west, almost to Le Havre, where we were to drop our leaflets. Then we were to turn north east to Fecampe once again, then home via the Isle of Wight.
The weather was fully overcast, but the clouds were quite low. We climbed into bright sunlight and headed for the needles. I had a rough idea of how long this should take us and was soon asking my navigator, Hugh Maher (pronounced Marr) if we were nearing our turning point. “No, not yet,” came the reply. It seemed to me that we must have passed the
2 I have included a copy of this leaflet in these memoirs (see page 16).
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[page written in the French language]
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needles when I asked again. He had not yet fixed our turning point. Eventually I said to Hugh that by now, I was sure that we must be right across the English Channel and over the Cherbourg Peninsula, and asked what his air plot told him. He told me that he had not maintained his air plot, because this aircraft was fitted with GEE. He had been unable to get a fix with GEE.
Great! Now I felt certain that we were lost somewhere over France. After establishing that there was no way he could work out any reckoning of where we were, I had to resort to radio. The Wireless Operator called for a fix – no reply. I asked him to try again with a priority. This he did. Yes, we were over the Cherbourg Peninsula of Normandy. I then told Hugh that we would fly north east from this fix. He was to use only dead reckoning navigation, no GEE. When we reached our intended crossing route of the Channel, he would guide us to Fecampe, Rouen, up wind to dropping point, back to Fecampe and so on. This we did. How ever after leaving the French coast, Hugh decided to get himself a fix using GEE radar. He was really worried. He came on the intercom telling me that he had just got a fix with GEE. We were not over the English Channel, but were over the North Sea.
A fix with GEE is a definite thing. I began to doubt Hugh’s ability with his dead reckoning navigation. To reach base we should fly roughly west south west. He gave me the course to fly. Eventually he told me that we should be crossing the cost. It was pitch black but there was no sign of a coastline even though the clouds were no longer below us. I told Hugh that we were certainly not crossing a coastline, but he assured me that he had been doing an air plot, dead reckoning since the Fix. Well I said that we should get an answer on the R.T. That was my job, so I called. No answer, I called using the distress call, “May Day”. No reply.
At this point I asked the Wireless Operator to ask for a fix using a priority. No reply. We were fairly low on fuel by this time so I said, “Same again with S.O.S.” Back came an immediate fix. We were over Brittany, in France.
To get home I had to turn almost 180 degrees. Then I gave my crew the serious news. One wing was completely empty of fuel. Both engines were using the almost empty port wing tanks. We still had a 60 gallon tank full, not much to fly very far. When the engines stopped we would pull the cross feed to use both engines on this 60 gallon tank. If they stopped after that was gone we would bale out.
Once again we were over 10/10 cloud, and as things turned out, this helped up. The airfield at Christchurch, near Bournemouth was having problems with their lighting. My bomb aimer was the first to see clouds off to starboard with lights going on and off, lightening them up.
We headed straight for them and I called up to get permission to land, asking what the cloud clearance was. I also told them I was very short of fuel. They told me that I had 800ft clearance under the cloud and told me to land. As we broke through the cloud, incidentally now using the last 60 gallon tank, I found right in front of me a beautiful runway lit with green lights at the beginning, white along the
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sides and red towards the far end. I did not care what airfield Command station, Hurn. Later in my career I was based at this field with B.O.A.C.
Poor Hugh! Once back at OUT, the navigation boys did a thorough review of his night’s efforts. They credited him with successfully flying to the target area and to the dropping point. It was the GEE fix that was the big error. The chain of stations were designed for the east coast of Britain. They were useless off the south coast, where we were flying. Previously he had suffered a severe bash on his head, coming out of a crew bus with his equipment. The rear slanted doors had slammed on his head. Later, while flying with another crew doing practice bombing with smoke bombs, they apparently had a very heavy landing, which set off one smoke bomb they had not dropped. He was standing in the astro-dome and figured the quickest way out of what seemed to be a burning aircraft was to bash his way through the Perspex dome.
They found that he no longer had the ability to navigate. He was invalided out of the RCAF and sent home to Montreal. My entire crew was split up. I was sent to R.A.F. Station Silverstone, where I took over a crew which had no pilot.
January 30th, 1944
This is the night I first went on a bombing raid. I did not pilot the aircraft. The pilot was F/Lt. Hallet. He was a Newfie and really wonder how he ever qualified as a pilot. When we crossed the enemy coast on the way home, he this was, I just landed. It turned out to be a Coastal asked me whether I would like to fly right back to base, which of course I gladly did. As we came in to make our landing, he asked me what the green light was, just before the runway. “There has always been a red light there before.” The light, of course was the glide path indicator. If you were high it shone amber. If you were too low it shone red. Right on the correct glide path it shone green. I explained to him what it indicated. On his next bombing trip, he actually hit the top of one of the Drem light poles on the way in.
However he was terrific as an operational pilot, and I picked up some valuable tips from him. He pointed out the slight difference between our Pathfinder markers at the target and the decoy markers dropped by the Germans. He also showed me a Lancaster going down in flames and the German oil bomb which simulated this. We called them Scarecrows. Since the end of the war, we found that the Germans had no such things as these scarecrow bombs. They had, however a type of gun and gun sight which fired up from below on an angle. They called it in German, “Slant Music.” Maybe this is what we saw.
Before the briefing, we knew it was to be a long tripfull load of fuel. However, it was still a shock to walk into the briefing room. There was a big map of Europe with a red tape running from our base at Witchford, across the North Sea, over Denmark and the Baltic Sea. Then there was a 90 degree turn south to Berlin. The homeward trip was right across Germany, south of Brunswick and Hanover, north of the Ruhr, across Holland and back to our base. I really believed that this was to be the last day of my life here on
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earth. Yet there was no thought of not going. After all, this is what all my training had been for. In fact this was some final training for me before I took my crew with me. It proved to be an excellent training trip. I did not know any of this crew I was flying with, but they did a very good job. F/Lt. Halley made a point of showing me various things, some of which I have mentioned. At interrogation after the trip they did a good job of giving an accurate account of what happened. I felt ready now to tackle such a sortie on my own. However on 115 Squadron new pilots always did two trips as second pilot. My next trip would be on February 15th, 1944.
This raid was made up of 534 aircraft. There were 440 Lancasters, 82 Halifaxes and 12 Mosquitoes. 33 aircraft were lost, 32 Lancasters and 1 Halifax or 6.2% of the force.
February 15th, 1944
This was my second sortie as a second pilot. This time I flew with a crew, every one of which had the DFM (Distinguished Flying Medal). The pilot was an excellent flyer, but in my estimation, not a good captain of his crew. I honestly believe they probably got their DFM’s in their fabulous interrogations, or de-briefings. I was really amazed at what I heard.
Fortunately it was a quiet trip, as far as contact with enemy fighters or flak were concerned. Again, the target was Berlin and we flew a very similar route to the one on January 30th. All the way along there was very little silence between crew members. One would talk to another and so on. My crew were never like that, even on local flights. On the ground we were just a great bunch of guys, but once inside the aircraft they were a real good crew.
There was a very unfortunate occurrence. After we had turned south from the Baltic and were flying towards Berlin, the intercom system broke down. There is a system of light signals for the bomb aimer to let the pilot know how to approach the target, to replace the, “right right” or “left” verbal instructions. Instead, the bomb aimer shouted his instructions from his position down by the bomb sight. The pilot couldn’t hear properly what he had shouted, turned the plane fairly quickly. The bomb aimer presumed they were being attacked by a night-fighter and jettisoned all our bomb load. There was quite a mix up until they set off for home, with bomb doors closed. As I recall, the intercom did come on again, so things settled down more or less.
In my judgement, our load of bombs were dropped well east of Berlin. Of course we were not told of other activities that night, but I did see a raid in progress in Frankfurt-on-Oder. I think our load was somewhere between these two targets.
Back at base we were ushered in for interrogation. According to that crew we had been attacked while running up to the target. The bomb aimer had taken an opportunity as we levelled off to drop our bombs, he claimed, pretty close to the markers etc. etc. I could not believe my ears. Mind you, from my point of view, I could not have had two second pilot trips with better teaching. The first on January 30th showed me how; this one showed me how not to. From now on I would be skipper of my own crew.
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There were 891 aircraft on this rain, 561 Lancasters, 314 Halifaxes and 16 Mosquitoes [sic]. The records show that on this night, apart from this raid, 23 Mosquitoes [sic] attacked 5 Night-fighter airfields in Holland, 43 Stirlings and 4 Pathfinder Halifaxes carried out mine laying in Keil Bay. Also 24 Lancasters made a diversionary raid on Frankfurt-on-Oder.
Total sorties this night were 1070. 45 aircraft were lost, (4.2%).
February 24th, 1944 - February 25th, 1944
On the 24th, I flew with my own crew for the first time. We bombed the ball bearing factory at Schweinfurt. Then, on the 25th, we bombed Augsburg. On the Schweinfurt raid there were 734 aircraft involved, 554 Lancasters, 169 Halifaxes and 11 Mosquitos. This was the first Bomber Command raid on this target. On the previous day 266 American B17’s had raided this target. Bomber command introduced a new tactic on this night. 392 aircraft and 342 aircraft separated by a two hour interval. The first wave of bombers lost 22 aircraft, 5.6% of the force. The second wave lost only 11 aircraft, 3.2% of the force. Total losses were 33 aircraft, 26 Lancasers [sic], 7 Halifaxes - 4.5% of the force. These sorties were very similar and the same thing happened to us on both trips. It was a weird sort of route and seemed to last forever. Actually it was 7 hrs 45 min on the 24th and 7 hrs 15 min on the 25th. On both occasions we were routed over France and almost to Munich, before turning north to our targets. Many of our bomber stream wandered over Switzerland in error, The Swiss, true to their neutral position, fired anti-aircraft flak, apparently well away from any planes, but giving no excuse for the Nazis to say they were favouring the Allies. We ourselves did not track over Switzerland.
Our problem was with the searchlights around Munich. Both nights they got me coned in what were obviously radar controlled lights. One lit up on me and immediately the manually controlled lights swung right onto me as well. So there I was, very new to this job and feeling very naked; on view to the whole of Nazi Germany. To say I was scared would be putting it extremely mildly.
I immediately threw the Lancaster into a violent, “Corkscrew” manoeuvre. This is what was drilled into us once we started flying bombers. Mind you, I had never actually done it before, and luckily for me, we were taking part in a second raid that night, on Schweinfurt. What I managed to do was to keep the fires of Schweinfurt somewhere in front of me as I threw that aircraft down to port and up changing to starboard and so on. It seemed like hours that I was in those searchlights. Luckily the smoke from the target area blacked out some of the searchlights, and by this time the radar-controlled lights would be trained on some other unlucky aircraft.
Ever since those two sorties I have had a strong aversion to searchlights of any kind, even those used in advertising.
Another incident happened on the Augsburg sortie. Before we were caught in the serachlights, I noticed out of the side of my vision that, “Taffy” Jones had his arm up in
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the air. What made me look round, I’ll never know, but we were very fortunate that I did. Taffy was obviously the only one who saw a Messerschmitt 110 attacking us from above and starboard. He was apparently speechless with fear, which is not really surprising, but could have killed the lot of us. As I looked round to see what Taffy was doing, I realised what was happening and gave the stick a quick shove forward. With the Lancaster II, with Bristol Hercules engines you can cut all engines by doing this. I must have dropped a few hundred feet, but we saw all the cannon fire pass overhead. I spoke to Taffy after we got back to base. I asked him to try to poke me, or something if he couldn’t speak.
On the Augsburg trip someone had timed our searchlight ordeal. We were coned in searchlights for 10 minutes.
Taffy was a very good and very thorough flight engineer. Once we were back at base, my thoughts were to get through our interrogation, then our bacon and eggs and off to bed. Taffy, of course had to give a full report which included dial readings of quite a few dials. He always was last one off the plane. I was always trying to egg him on. Once I had finished our tour, my ground crew, “Chiefy”, told me that they estimated we would last only about three or four sorties. They thought I was always arguing with my flight engineer.
Mind you, I felt that we could not possibly get through any of our sorties, even before we got airborne!
March 24th, 1944
We set off on March 22nd for a sortie to Frankfurt, but had to return to base shortly after take off because of the failure of our port inner engine.
On March 24th, our next sortie was back to Berlin for me and first time for my crew. As it turns out this was the last major bombing raid on Berlin. 811 aircraft took part in this raid, 577 Lancasters, 216 Halifaxes, and 18 Mosquitos. 72 aircraft were lost, 44 Lancasters and 28 Halifaxes - 8.9% of the force.
In spite of strong winds which were not forecast, we had no difficulty in reaching our target. Our route home was the one I had followed during two previous trips to Berlin. This was south of Brunswick and Hanover. Jog around the north end of the Ruhr, etc. If we had followed the route given me by my navigator, Rex Townsend, we would have flown right across the Ruhr with all its flak. Fortunately, many ahead of us made this mistake, and it was strictly because of a serious error in the forecast winds. At any rate, using the Ruhr searchlights for guidance, we successfully negotiated our way.
After that things began to go wrong. First of all our oxygen supply ceased to function. I maintained our height until we crossed the coast and were over the North Sea. This was very likely the cause of our troubles; 20,000 ft is far too high without oxygen.
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[missing photograph or text]
[four obscured words]
Once over the sea, we came down to under 10,000 ft so that we would not suffer any effects of lack of oxygen. Another unforeseen thing happened. Low cloud had formed over all of East Anglia We must have passed fairly close to our base, judging from the talk we heard on the RT. However my navigator was not able to get us to Witchford, in fact, according to his findings we were still a good distance from Witchford. On we flew, my RT signals were getting fainter. When Rex told me we were approaching base, I realised we were nowhere near and were getting a bit low on fuel. Fog was forming on the ground. As it turned out we were very close to Ludford Magna in Lincolnshire. They were equipped with FIDO, the fog dispersal system of gasoline fires along both sides of the runway. I called up and received permission to land. It was nice to get down onto the ground that night.
If this trip of ours to Berlin sounds a bit tame you should watch the video, “Night Bombers.” This is about a sortie to Berlin just a week or so before this. You would get some idea of what all our bombing trips were like.
How I Became a Commissioned Officer
Sometime between April 14th and April 18th, 1944 I no longer was F/S (flight sergeant) but became P/O (Pilot Officer). This is a crazy, almost unbelievable story.
Up until this time on 115 Squadron I was a flight sergeant. My crew were all sergeants. We all used the Sergeants’ Mess. We all lived in one Nissen Hut. This was a very good way to live.
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[italics] Donald Cameron: World War II and Flying Memoirs [/italics]
Our flight commander, Squadron Leader, George Mackie wanted all his pilots to be Commissioned Officers. I was well aware of this, but was quite happy living together with my crew, so did nothing about it. George Mackie was a typical air force guy, complete with a big handle-bar moustache. Incidentally, he was from Aberdeen. His family owned Mackies Dairy in Aberdeen.
I got pretty good at avoiding this little business of applying for a commission. However, one morning I made my way to the flight office. Very unusual, the office was empty, except for Mackie. As soon as I went in he said to me. “Ah Cameron, just the man I wanted to see. Take a seat at my desk.”
I could see the forms all laid out for me to complete.
Mackie went over to a filing cabinet, took out his revolver, put in a full six rounds and pointing it towards me said, “Now fill in those forms.”
He was laughing and so was I by this time. I told him that he could very well be court martialed [sic] for threatening me with his revolver.
Who would they believe with such a story, you or me?’ Well I pretty well had to fill in the forms for him. This is how I advanced from an NCO to a Pilot Officer.
One strange thing about my flight commander, he was not a pilot. He was doing his third tour as a Bomb Aimer. The pilot of his crew never got beyond the rank of Flight Sergeant. They were lost on a trip to LeMans on May 19th, 1944 after he finished his 25 sorties.
Apparently, our crew were the only ones who reported seeing a Lancaster going down in flames on that trip.
Mackie must have had access to all the interrogations. He told me that I was the only one reporting this. As you can imagine, he was very upset. He asked me whether there was a chance of any survivors. I had to tell him that if they were in that plane, none of them could possibly survive. It just blew up.
I was sent on 7 days leave at this time, so that I could purchase my new uniform. A friend of mine, who was in the RCAF, P/O Don McKechnie said that I should not travel in a NCO’s uniform, now that I was a P/O.
Mary and I had our photograph taken during this leave. We have it on the wall in our front room. A careful look would show you that the pilot wings are actually RCAF and not RAF.
May 9th, 1944
This was a very short trip, just across the Strait of Dover to Cap Griz New. We carried deep penetration bombs. Our instructions were to bring back the bombs if we could not identify the target. Our target this time was one of the rocket launching sites for the V2 rocket which could not be avoided until they exploded in London.
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Donald Cameron: World War 11 and Flying Memoirs
[photograph]
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We found the whole area was covered with 10/10ths. cloud, so we returned with our full load of bombs. Of course, we were still far too heavy to land. Our instruction were to jettison some of our fuel load, so this is what we proceeded to do. We emptied two tanks, one in each wing. One tank emptied just fine, but the other one emptied into the wing. The fuel ran into the bomb bay. The fumes from this fuel filled the whole aircraft. I didn’t realise that these fumes were affecting the crew, except the rear gunner, who was sealed from things in his gun turret.
It was not until I started to make my final approach that I began to realise that these fumes had made me a bit drunk. I certainly did not fancy landing without my full capacity to know what I was doing. Don’t ask me why, but I had not brought along my goggles. In any case I had to stick my head out my side window to clear my head. Mind you I had to more or less close them to just a slit because of the speed. Never mind, we made a good landing with our full load of bombs. I made sure that I had my goggles with me after that
These are a few other incidents that happened to us during our Bombing tour. Here are one or two incidents during some sorties.
Dusseldorf: April 22nd, 1944
597 aircraft took part in this raid. There were 323 Lancasters, 254 Halifaxes, 19 Mosquitos.
On each night bombing raid, one or two squadrons were given the task of being a support to the Pathfinder squadrons, who mark the target for the main force. We still had to try our best to bomb the target aiming point, but this was not our main function. We had two jobs. One was to give the Pathfinders a bit more cover. The other was to toss out lots and lots of, “Window.”
Window was strips of foil, the length of which were designed to appear on radar as aircraft. I believe the first time it was used was on a raid to Hamburg. It succeeded, making the German radar showing millions of aircraft. This provided cover for the main force coming behind us, but not for us. We had to try and bomb the aiming point, either by the markers, if available, or by our own recognition of the target. There was no problem; the Pathfinder Force were doing a good job.
This was entirely different from bombing with the main force. We were accustomed to a barrage of anti-aircraft fire, but this time it was not a barrage, they were aiming at individual aircraft, and that included us. This was much more scary; this was much more close generally than we were used to.
Duisburg: May 22nd, 1944
510 Lancasters and 22 Mosquitos carried out the first large raid on this target for a year. 29 Lancasters were lost, 5.5% of the force.
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Most of this trip was like any other trip, but two things stick out in my mind.
The first was as we approached the target. There were Lancasters circling everywhere, and cloud seemed to cover the whole target. They were obviously having trouble in finding the target. I instructed my Bomb Aimer, Attwood, that we would open the bomb doors as we ran up on the centre of the brightly lit clouds. If the worst came to the worst he should let them go as near to the centre of the searchlights as possible. Actually, this strategy worked in our favour. I soon found out the reason for all the circling. As we approached the centre of the lit up clouds, there was a big hole right down to ground level, and there, right on our path were the target markers. We were able to get an aiming point on our photograph. I was glad that we did not have to circle and try again.
Coming out of the target area, we had one of our many narrow escapes, and so did a German night fighter, who was heading into the target area to see what he could do. If he had been even six inches (15 cm) lower, or we had been that much higher, I am sure that we would have scraped each other and probably both planes would have been badly disabled and would have crashed. As he whizzed over us we felt the bump of the change of air pressure. That was the closest I ever got to a Junkers 88.
Cologne: April 20th, 1944
357 Lancasters and 22 Mosquitos took part in this attack. 4 Lancasters were lost.
After our Berlin Raid on March 24th, there was a change in the role of Bomber Command. Although Harris was still our commanding officer, he now came under General Dwight Eisenhower. This meant that the emphasis was no longer that of knocking out German industry, but was more designed to help with the coming, “Second Front.”
We had trips to Ville Neuve St. George on April 9th, and Laon on April 10th. We had some flak damage on this trip. Then it was Rouen on April 18th.
These were mostly railway marshalling yards, making railway transport more difficult for the Germans.
However, on April 20th, it was back to industry in Cologne. The Lancaster we were flying had one bad failing. It was very slow in climbing. All planes had various quirks, but I did not like this one.
Our route to Cologne took us to a point due south of Cologne, then we turned north to the target, climbing from 18 to 20 thousand feet. I knew that our aircraft would have no hope of making this climb and keep on time, so I instructed Rex Townsend, my navigator, to make our time at the turning point one minute ahead of the scheduled time. Unfortunately we arrived there one minute late.
I could not possibly climb to height without falling behind the bomber stream. I maintained our speed, but we could not gain much height at all.
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We went ahead and dropped our bombs on target and were immediately hit, I presumed, by flak. Two fires developed, one in the port wing outboard of the engines. The second one was in the starboard inner engine nacelle.
I gave the order, “Prepare to Abandon the Aircraft.” Then several things happened. My indicator light came on which tells me my wheels are down and locked. (I knew they were still up). Another light told me that I had the wrong supercharger gear on for landing. (Good, at 18 thousand feet I was not landing) Through my mind flashed the briefing we had before take off. The winds over the target are from 270 degrees. If we all bailed out, we would float right back into Cologne in our parachutes. I made a spur of the moment decision to blow up with the aircraft along with all my crew. We had it drilled into us that the maximum time we would have was 2 minutes, before the plane would blow up. Even today, I wonder how I could decide to kill all 7 of us. I guess it was the thought of floating back into Cologne in our parachutes.
Taffy Jones, my flight engineer, had clipped on his parachute in preparation for bailing out. He had the presence of mind to drag my one out from behind my seat and was holding it up for me to put on. You see, I was one of many pilots who did not have a pilot’s parachute. Instead, I had the same harness as all of my crew. This was clipped onto the chest when being used. Of course there was no room for me to wear mine, while I was flying the aircraft. I said to Taffy, “Just put it down there,” pointing to the floor beside my seat. Taffy told me, when we eventually landed, that when I said that, he was no longer afraid.” If he only knew!
Well the fires soon seemed to be dying down and both went out together. A pencil through the covers on my warning lights gave us darkness in the flight deck once again. However what would happen when I landed was anybody’s guess. Would my wheels lock down. I decided to head for our emergency landing field at Woodbridge. This had a runway three times wider than our normal airfields and it was much longer as well. It was also lit up like a Christmas tree. Two bright searchlights pointing up and converging welcomed aircraft that were in trouble. We could see these as we left the enemy coast. We were given permission to land. I instructed all my crew to take up crash positions as I made the approach, which they did. My wheels and flaps seemed to functioning normally, but we could not be sure. Then thankfully we made a perfectly normal landing. What a great relief!
Next morning my ground crew were flown in to examine the aircraft – C-Cameron. I never used the call sign C-Charlie. One of my ground crew decided to get up onto the wing. Hoe thought he saw something wrong from the ground. We watched as he reached down through a hole in the wing. He pulled out a live British incendiary bomb from one of our fuel tanks. We had not been hit by flak, but by incendiaries from a plane above us.
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D Day: June 5th/6th, 1944.
The Normandy Coastal Batteries
This day 1012 aircraft took part in raids on the costal batteries at Fontenay, Houlgate, La Pernelle, Longues, Maisy, Merville, Mont Fleury, Pointe-du-Hoe, Ouisterham and St-Martin-de-Varreville. 946 aircraft carried out their bombing tasks. Three aircraft were lost, 2 Halifaxes on the Mont Fleury raid, and 1 Lancaster on the Longues raid. Only two of the targets – La Pernelle and Ouisterham were free of cloud; all other bombing was based on Oboe marking. At least 5000 tons of bombs were dropped, the greatest tonnage in one night so far in the war.
Our target was the coastal batteries at Ouisterham. Although we took off in darkness this trip turned out to be our first daylight bombing. We did not use any different tactics which turned out to be a little bit scary. As we flew towards the target it began to get closer to daylight, I remember another plane from 115 Squadron came alongside me and we continued in a sort of loose formation towards the target. Others about us were doing the same, so that when we reached the target and tried to fly over the markers, we would have all collided. I was fortunate that I was able to drop my bombs on target, but there was no way that I could say my photograph would show this. As soon as the bombs were dropped, I climbed above the crowd to avoid collision with other planes.
I was due to go on leave on June 6th, but because of this trip, all leave had been cancelled. Mary and I had arranged to meet at Kings Cross Station in London, but instead I was on my way back across the Channel and into bed at Witchford. Fortunately I found someone trustworthy to waken me if leave was on again. As soon as he woke me, I was off to London. I was not too worried about Mary, as she knew where we had arranged to stay.
Instead, when Mary arrived at Kings Cross, she saw hundreds of service people but no Don. Somehow she saw this woman in air force officer uniform, but with a different cap to the WAAF of the RAF. She spoke to her and asked whether she were Miriam my sister. Of course she said yes, and that she was there to try to meet Mary. I had not been in touch with Miriam, but of course she knew of our arrangement to meet at Kings Cross. They spent most of the day together. Miriam took her to her office with the RCAF, and introduced her to some of the people she worked with.
Mary and I had a very happy week together. We stayed with Mrs. Clark who had a house in the Elephant and Castle area. We had a lucky escape with this leave. The night when I put Mary on the train for Aberdeen, while I made my way back to Witchford, the room we had slept in was demolished by a German bomb. I think it was one of their Doodle Bugs, the ones you could hear approaching and hoped would pass you before its engine stopped. Our room was upstairs. Fortunately Mrs. Clark lived one level below street level, but level with the back garden. She was not hurt, but had to be taken to a decontamination centre to get all the oil cleaned off. This was another of our narrow escapes during WW2.
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After D Day
June 14th, 1944. Le Havre. There were 221 Lancasters and 13 Mosquitos taking part in this raid. It was in two waves, one in daylight and the other later in the evening in darkness. We were in the second wave. The objectives were the fast German motor-torpedo boats (E-boats) and other light naval forces which were threatening Allied shipping off the Normandy beaches only 30 miles away. Both waves were escorted by Spitfires. 1230 tons of bombs were dropped including 22 Lancasters from 617 Squadron, each loaded with a 12000-lb. Tallboy bomb. The E-boat threat to the invasion beaches from this port was almost completely removed by this raid.
I reported no problems on this raid, but next morning, Chiefy Williams asked me what had happened. One of the propeller nacelles was bashed in, with the paint from a British bomb on the bashed part, another lucky escape that we were not even aware of at the time.
Including this raid on Le Havre, after D Day we did seven night bombing trips, mostly to railway marshalling yards. We also took part in 4 daylight raids, the last one on July 10th, completed our tour of operations. The final six or seven, although quite short trips were very worrying. We all felt that we could not possibly make it to the end of our 30 trips with 115 Squadron and the end of our tour of operations.
No. 3 Lancaster Finishing School.
RAF Station – Feltwell, etc.
After completing my bombing tour at Witchford I was sent to Feltwell. This was not far east of Ely. I was to be an instructor at this school. Crews came here after finishing their operational training, to get enough experience flying Lancasters before going to a bomber Squadron. I had to get experience in handling a Lancaster from a right hand seat, usually occupied by the flight engineer. They extended the connection of the wheel across from the regular control, for the instructor to use. The seat normally was fastened to the pilot’s seat and was clipped onto the right hand side of the aircraft when being used by a flight engineer. It was far from being comfortable. My complete training for this consisted of one afternoon, lasting 1 hour, 5 minutes. Now, I was an instructor.
Now that I was no longer flying with a bomber squadron, I found a room in a farmhouse about 5 miles from Feltwell in Methwold. This village consisted of 1 street, with 6 pubs. Our room had one 15 watt bulb for light. The floor slanted down from each side to a sort of trough along the middle. Mary came down from Aberdeen to stay with me. I told her that when I was finishing my flying for a day, I would fly over this house, and rev. up my engines, so that she would know I would be home shortly. This worked just fine until I once did an air test with another of the instructors. “Oh that’s where you live.” Mary never knew when I would be finishing. All my friends would rev their engines over the house.
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Mary, from about 500 miles north, could not understand the old man who owned the house. I, from 3000 miles away had to translate. The Norfolk dialect was really different to most English accents. His daughter and her husband kept house for him. They farmed a piece of land not attached to this property. The old man would sell her eggs from his chickens, as well as apples. In turn she would sell him any produce from their land. This was a new kind of family for us to experience. When we went on leave, to Aberdeen the old man would give Mary some apples. “Don’t tell Annie that I have given you these.” Annie had to buy her’s from him. What a way to live.
Some of the old Lancasters we flew at Fetwell were in very bad shape. Feltwell was not a paved airfield. We had to land on a grass landing strip. I had taken one crew to a bomber airfield for some experience. We were recalled because some fog was beginning to form at Feltwell. I took over the controls and flew back to base. They had lit some fire flares alongside the landing strip, but I had no difficulty in making my approach and landing. As I tried to turn the plane to starboard into where I was being guided, I could get no power from my port outer engine. I shouted to my guide to look at my port outer, as I could not get any power from it. He shone his light and yelled back that there was no engine there. It had dropped off as we landed. Years later I visited the aeronautical museum in Ottawa, with David, Patricia, Graeme and Heather. David and I were up looking into the cockpit of a Lancaster on exhibit there. Mary spoke to a man who was sitting on a bench looking at this Lancaster exhibit. Mary asked him if he had flown Lancasters. He said that no he had never flown, but he had worked as ground crew on them. He said that he had worked at No. 3 Lancaster Finishing School all the time it was in operation. I asked whether he had been there when the pilot of a plane that had just landed, asked the person directing the plane to shine a light on the port outer engine as he could get no power, and he said there was no engine there at all. He said yes, in fact he was the fellow who told me that there was no engine. What a small world. He belonged to an air force club in Oshawa and was very keen that I should join as well when he found that I lived in Scarborough. These clubs usually turn out to be just a drinking club, so I never did go near it.
After January 23rd, 1945, I was transferred to RAF Station Lindholme, near Doncaster in Yorkshire. This was a training station for Lancasters. We flew with crews who had not yet flown heavy bombers. They had a much more involved course of training.
I made a point of never looking at the students’ log books. I judged their flying ability from what they did for me. That was until I had one student, a flight lieutenant whom I thought was a danger to his crew. I looked in his log book and found that in his flying career he had never had less than, ‘Above Average’ in his records. I thought perhaps there was something wrong with me, so I asked the flight commander to take him up. He failed this man after a single trip and thanked me for letting him take him for a test.
On April 4th, 1945 I was sent on a flying instructors course at F.I.S. (Flying Instructors School) at Lulsgate Bottom, near Bristol, flying Airspeed Oxfords, where I did about 20 hours flying. This consisted of flying with only one
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engine, steep turns, really low flying, stalls, flapless landings, and forced landings (no power) – something called precautionary landings.
This turned out to be really great fun. I felt that this is how we should have been taught to fly Oxfords when I first started flying twin-engined planes. After this I became a category “C” instructor. While I was here, Miriam, my sister came from London to visit. We were able to take a tour through Cheddar Gorge and the cave. It was very interesting. The course lasted until May 4th, 1945, so of course Glen was born while I there. I was given 7 days leave to visit Mary and Glen in the Osborne Nursing Home in Aberdeen. They had to stay in the nursing home quite a long time because Mary developed a fever. They called it Milk Fever. She could not feed her baby, so he had to be brought up on National Dried Milk.
While on my way north I heard the announcement over the loud speakers at Crewe Station, that the war in Europe was finished.
Then it was more instructing at Lindholme for a short time. During this short time, I took some air cadets up for a trip in an Oxford.
I was still flying Lancasters as an instructor. However there was one interesting break. On July 6th, 1945 I took some passengers on what they termed a Cook’s Tour. The war in Europe had come to an end. My passengers were all service personnel from Lindholme. I took them across the North Sea to the Rhur in Germany, and we flew down over the Rhur to see what Bomber Command had done to German Industry there. In comparison, you would say that London, with it’s blitzes had hardly been scratched. It was absolute devastation.
On July 17th, 1945 I was sent to Bomber Command Instructors School at Finningly in Yorkshire. This is here I was paired with John Cooksey. Frankly, this is where I really learned how to fly a Lancaster. This even included how to land a Lancaster with no engines. Mind you, for safety’s sake the engines were left just idling, so that if I goofed we could soon have power. The instructor did the first no power landing and then asked me to try it. I came in with more speed than usual, thinking I was avoiding a stall. But when I leveled[sic] off for a landing I could not hold it down. It just ballooned up and I could do nothing about it. All he said was, “Do you know what you did wrong?” I of course said that I had approached too fast. He told me to try once more, and this time I had no problem.
John Cooksey and I got along together just fine. Neither one of us were really interested in becoming instructors. So I would put him through each exercise and he would do the same for me. If we did them OK and we did, we would spend the rest of the time exploring the countryside and coast around there. We were both upgraded to category “B” instructors. This is the highest anyone could be graded at this B.C.I.S.
I went back to Lindholme until I was sent to RAF Station, Snaith. This was a B.A.T. flight, where I was introduced to making a beam approach. The beam is a radio beam. On the beam we could hear a constant signal. If we
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were off to one side we heard the morse code for “A” on the other side it was the letter “N”. One was dot - dash. The other was dash - dot, so that when they came together you heard a constant sound. This was done with Oxfords and Link Trainers.
1332 HCU (Heavy Conversion Unit)
RAF Station Dishforth
In February 1946, I was posted to Dishforth, where I flew the Avro York. This was just until I was familiar with handling this aircraft.
Transport Command. 246 Squadron. Holmsley South.
On March 9th, they sent me to 246 Squadron at Holmsley South. I was now a F/Lt. (Flight Lieutenant) in Transport Command, with my new crew. For the first time in my flying career, I had eco-pilot, and a really good navigator. They made sure that I was familiar with such
[photograph]
My Transport Command Crew at Cairo (jack Easton, Geof Sames, Gordon Megson, Me, Johnie Ottewell) April 26th, 1946
things as 3 engine landings and overshoots, flawless landings, ground controlled approach. This also included a GEE let down for bad weather approach. Then finally on April 15th, I started my first overseas trip. My route was from base to Castel Benito in North Africa and on to Almaza at Cairo.
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Incidentally, my entire cargo was Sunday newspapers As we stopped at Castle Benito the ground crew were keen to get a copy of some. I told them not to meddle, but said I was off to see about my flight on to Cairo. They were pretty good; the cargo did not appear to be tampered with, but I am sure we had a few less papers. We staged at Cairo for two days, picking up the next plane to come from Britain. From there we flew to Shaibah at Basra. Then a long hop to Mauripur at Kirachi [sic]. Then another two day in Kirachi [sic]. Our next hop was supposed to be to Palam at Delhi, but we were asked to land at Jodhpur. This was my first experience of using a runway which was just a black strip of thick oil. Well I made quite a good approach to land right at the beginning of this strip, because it did not look to be very long. As I arrived over the
[photograph]
Almaza, Cairo June, 1946
hot black strip ready for a three point landing - the aircraft started to float upward with the very hot air rising from the runway. I was determined to get the plane down so I just waited until we stopped floating
up, then gave her lots of power as we started to fall. Hey, we made a nice safe landing after all, even if it was not too smooth. I was glad I had quite a bit of flying experience by this time.
On the way home from Delhi, we made the same stops, except for Jodhpur, but when flying on the final stretch across the Mediterranean, we had to call up the station at Istres in the south of France for permission to carry on, depending on the weather in England. We were asked to land, so we had an extra day on our trip.
My next trip was the same route, but straight from Kirachi [sic] to Delhi, no stop at Jodhpur. Again we were asked to stop at Istres on the way home.
No. 242 Squadron, Oakington
The next trip, we carried passengers, service personnel of course. This involved first flying from our base to Lyneham, which was an international base, complete with customs officers. We had seats fitted. They did not look too comfortable to me. We carried troops who were being sent to relieve some who were coming back to Britain. This trip was only to Cairo. On our return journey we were bringing one stretcher case, complete with a woman medical officer. The man had a brain tumour. One officer, a Naval Captain, which is a fairly high rank, did not turn up on time. Well I refused to hold up the trip for him, telling the staff that he could pick up
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his luggage at Lyneham. I felt that getting my stretcher case to hospital in Britain was more important. There were a few fighter pilots among my passengers too. When we landed at Castle Benito, the plane just rolled smoothly along the runway with no kind of any bump. This was a rare thing for an Avro York. They could not be landed without a bump of some sort. My air quarter master (Steward) bragged to these fighter guys that I did this all the time. I reminded him that I still had to land them at Lyneham. By this time I was sure that Istres always asked us to land no matter what the British weather conditions before leaving Castle Benito. Sure enough, they asked us to land. However I told them that I was carrying an urgent Stretcher case and wanted to get him to a hospital as soon as possible. They did not hesitate to allow me to proceed. I realised that I had made one goof. The troops were all wearing tropical dress and wanted to change, but did not wish to embarrass the woman medical officer. I brought her up front with me and had told her that she could hear the various info. I received as we flew. When I pushed for not landing at Istres, she told me not to fly on if the weather was bad. The invalid was not that urgent. I had to tell her that there would be layers of cloud when we got there and maybe a bit of drizzle, but nothing to make it a dangerous landing. Actually we didn’t even have the drizzle, but did I ever bounce in on my landing.
Then I was sent with another crew to get some route experience for a trip to Singapore. F/Lt. Audis was the pilot. Well, after we left Basra and were flying down the Persian Gulf, I went back to have a rest. I don’t think I was really asleep, but suddenly I became aware that something was wrong. Even though the aircraft was cruising OK, I went up front and asked what the trouble was. Well the port outer engine was not functioning, something wrong with the supercharger. The pilot had decided to fly lower, so that he could see more closely things at ground level. However at the bottom of the gulf, we would have to climb to over ten thousand feet to get over some hills, before flying along to Kirachi [sic] over the sea. He got permission to land at Sharjah, where we would wait until a replacement engine could be flown to us. We were there from August 19th. to September 1st. Strangely enough a friend from my days on bombers flew the engine to us in a DC3 (Dakota).
Apart from one more flight along with another pilot, just doing an air test, that was my last flight with the RAF. I had flown total of 1201 hrs 50 min.
My flying with British Overseas Airways Corporation
While at Aldermaston, back at school, in training for my various licences, I flew once with Captain Green on an air test in a Viking aircraft , just for 1 Hr 20 min. This was strictly off the record and is not included in my log book. I also went up for an air test in a Dakota with Capt. Levy. This lasted !hr. 30mn. As we approached for a landing he suggested that I try the landing. I didn’t even know the speed to make the approach at. He told me the speed and said to go ahead. I would find that it would pretty well land itself. So I did land it and with a nice smooth landing.
I had to do some flying in the York again, which included landing fully loaded. I was sent on a cross country
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flight with another First Officer, F/O Clink. However I was to be in charge. We had all sorts of different personnel on board. They came and asked if I was ready for dinner. As I was in charge, I was to them Captain. Well you have no idea of the fancy treatment I was given. Of course the stewards were also in training and were being watched. I have never been so handsomely treated to a meal before or since.
When I was fully qualified I was sent to Turn, near Bournemouth.
My first trip as First Officer started on November 23rd, 1947. Captain Phillips was in charge. We flew to London. On the 24th our route was first to Bordeaux and then to Castel Benito, then on to Lydda. This was a staging Post for the crew. The plane flew on with a different crew. On November 28th we took over a different plane on to Basra and Kirachi [sic]. On November 30th we were off again, this time with a Cast. Maltin. We flew to Dharan at Delhi. When we took off from Delhi, as we were gaining speed for take off, Capt. Maltin suddenly shut the throttles right down and exclaimed, “Holy cow!” This surprised me to hear him say a thing like this, but when I looked to see the problem, there was a cow strolling slowly across the runway. I laughed and said to him, “I have never heard that expression used correctly before.” Captain Maltin flew us as far as Lydda on the way home. We found ourselves as supernumerary crew. In other words there were two crews, but only one plane, so we flew on in the same plane, but with a different crew. That saved us a day, as we stayed with the plane right through to Castle Benito, but were delayed a day, I think by a sandstorm before returning to base.
The next flight started on December 24th, 1947. We had two children by this time, so Christmas arrived a wee bit early, but, neither Glen or Patricia were aware of that.
The name of the plane was Macduff. G-AGOF. We flew to London late on the 24th. Our take off was on the 25th. None of us in the crew were happy about this. Neither were most of the passengers. Captain Kelly came aboard and looked around at the long faces, and asked the steward if we had Christmas Crackers on board. We did, so he asked that a cracker be given to every passenger and every crew member. There was a tiny decorated tree just at the entrance, which on the York was mid-way up the passenger cabin. When we all had our crackers Captain Kelly said, “Now all of you pull your crackers and put on the paper hat.” That broke the ice and we had a great trip after that. We made landings at Bordeaux for lunch (Christmas Dinner), then on to Castel Benito and Cairo.
Both passengers and crew had an overnight stop in Cairo. Then in early morning we flew down to Khartoum. A lovely breakfast was waiting for us in Khartoum.
As we flew south from Khartoum, Captain Kelly asked me to go back into the passengers to point out any wild game. He purposely flew fairly low and I pointed out large animals like giraffe and elephant and such like. Two little girls, about nine or ten years old, latched onto me at this time. They had a great time as I showed them quite a few animals on the ground.
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[italics] Donald Cameron World War II and Flying Memoirs [/italics]
As for me, I was very interested in not only seeing all this wild game, but also we flew low over the Murchison Falls on this branch of the Nile River.
We arrived in Nairobi on December 27th and were treated once again to another Christmas Dinner. I am afraid the two little girls ended up sitting on my knees, one on each knee. This was hardly airline etiquette, but by this time passengers and crew were just like one huge family. When we finally returned to base, we received no less than 5 letters, commending the crew for a great trip. Most were being sent out from England on a scheme to grow ground nuts (peanuts), which turned out to be a complete flop in the end. None were very happy about going.
After Nairobi we flew past Kilimanjaro, quite a nice sight to Mombasa, on the coast of the Indian Ocean. Then we headed south over Zanzibar to Dar es Salaam in Tanzania. This was our final destination and my first crossing of the equator. There were no celebrations on board.
Our return trip was still in the Macduff as far as Cairo. Then we staged, flying on December 31st in a York called Marston, G-AGSO. Between Cairo and Tunisia Captain Kelly gathered the whole crew up front. The radio was tuned to the BBC in London, and as the new year came in we had a bit of a celebration. We were unable to land in London because of fog and were diverted to our base at Hurn. Here was still a lot of cloud below us, but I suddenly spotted our base and gave Cpt. Kelly a nudge. He was determined to land at base, but the passengers must have wondered what was happening. To say the least it was not a normal approach, although to us up front it was certainly not dangerous. So we came to the end of one of my most enjoyable trips.
On January 22nd 1948, I did the same route again with Captain Bennett. Then my final trip was to India once again with Captain Buxton. This time we went one more stop after Delhi, to Calcutta.
I am not sure which of these trips this incident happened, but on one of our stopovers in Cairo, we arranged with a local man to take us from the Bentley Hotel (I think that was the name) to the Pyramids and Sphinx, with a tour up inside the Great Pyramid. We would pay him for the entire trip. We settled on a price. Everything went very well. I opted to ride an Arabian horse instead of one of their moth-eaten camels. All went very well including the climb up inside the pyramid, until nearly down inside. Then this guide decided he would like a bit more money. If we wouldn’t give him this he would leave us in the dark. He had been lighting our way with magnesium strips. Needless to say the poor guy was completely surrounded by us, and told he had better not try any tricks like that. I think he thought we would take the magnesium and leave him behind, but anyway we got out okay.
By this time, my left eye had really started to go blind. I realised that I could not renew my licence and so resigned from BOAC.
My total flying time, including air force and civilian was 1455 hrs 55min.
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[italics] Donald Cameron World War II and Flying Memoirs [/italics]
[medals and other insignia photographed on a black background]
[top] [RAF wings]
[1st row L to R] [1939-45 Star; Air Crew Europe Star; 1939-45 Defence Medal; 1939-45 War Medal]
[2nd row] [Bomber Command Tribute 1939 – 1945]
40
[page break]
Campaign Stars, Clasps and Medals
instituted in recognition of service
in the war of 1939 – 45
[list of awards]
[award certificate for those who served in Bomber Command 1939 – 45]
41
[page break]]
[italics] Donald Cameron World War II and Flying Memoirs [/italics]
[bold] Footnote to My Flying [/bold]
Mary and I were at our trailer up near Norland, when we received a phone call from our daughter, Patricia. She asked us what we would be doing on August 19th 2000. I looked at our calendar and told her that we had tickets for the theatre in Lindsay. We were going with some friends.
Well we were told to cancel these arrangements. Our three children had combined to give me a trip up in the Lancaster at the Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum in Hamilton. They had joined to purchase membership in this museum for me ($75). As well, they paid $1000 for a flight of about 45 minutes in the Lancaster. It was a real thrill to be back in a Lancaster once again.
[colour photo of man and woman in front of a stationary Lancaster]
42
[photograph of Donald Cameron wearing his war medals]
[article from the ‘News Advertiser’ dated 3rd September 2000, including photograph of Donald Cameron in front of a Lancaster aircraft]
High times for veteran flyer
Second World War pilot revisits his glory days
By Jane McDonald staff writer
When Don Cameron headed towards a certain aircraft on a sunny Saturday, Aug. 19, it was as though 55 years suddenly melted away.
“He strutted over that tarmac like a 20 years old,” says Pat Boocock of Ajax, the 53-year-old daughter of Mr Cameron who, with her two brothers arranged for her father to fly once again in a famous Second World War Lancaster. Mr Cameron wasn’t quite 20 years old when he joined the Royal Air Force in 1941. Originally from Toronto, he’d gone to Scotland in 1938 to study at an agricultural college. After war broke out the following year, he tried to join the air force when he reached the age of conscription.
“They told me, ‘No, you’re not a resident’” recalls the almost 79-year-old Whitby man. He joined anyway as a volunteer and headed for the southern United States to train as a pilot. And although he qualified as a fighter pilot, by the time he got back to England, he was posted to 115 Squadron, part of the RAF’s No. 3 Group Witchford. This meant flying multi-engine aircraft like the Wellington and Stirling. But his favourite by far was the Lancaster. Mr Cameron remembers, with the help of his log book, his first operational trip to Berlin when he piloted a Lancaster, the heavy four-engine bomber, many of which were built at Victory Aircraft, the Canadian Crown corporation at Malton, Ont.
[photograph with caption “Don Cameron still hadn’t come back to earth after flying in a Lancaster bomber, the same plane he flew as a pilot with the Royal Air Force during the Second World War. He went up on Aug. 19.]
“I flew five different (Lancaster) planes,” says Mr. Cameron of his time on operational missions. “Then somebody would take one up (when he was off duty) and not come back.” He had his own close calls like a particularly ‘nasty trip’ he made to Cologne, the city in northern Germany on the Rhine River, when his plane had two fires burning as he struggled to get his crew back to England.
“Cologne was the scariest,” he admits. It turned out to be British incendiaries that landed on us. We were coming out of Cologne and I gave orders to prepare to abandon the aircraft. Then the whole (pre-flight) briefing came back to me … I realized then that it would be better to blow up there than bail out and drift back into Cologne. That decision saved our lives.” Another time, after landing successfully on a grassy strip, Flight Lieutenant Cameron asked a ground crew member to shine his light on the port outer engine which he thought might have something wrong with it. “There is no engine,” answered the man.
But the plane he went up in Aug. 19 had all four engines. Lovingly refurbished by a dedicated group of volunteers, the pride of the Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum at Mount Hope Airport in Hamilton is the only airworthy Lancaster in Canada.
“I just heard about it on the radio three or four years ago,” says Mrs. Boocock. “I tucked it away in my mind but when my father started having heart problems, I thought we’d better do it soon.” She contacted the museum and was told her father could go up in its Lancaster for a ‘donation’. She and her two brothers came up with $1,000, which she says will be their father’s “birthday and Christmas” gift.
Mr. Cameron says he found the flight to be “quite similar” in many respects. “The only thing missing was the piece of armour plating that used to be behind my (the pilot’s) head,” he adds of the 45 minute flight that took him over Niagara Falls. And although it was “bumpy”, there was no need to worry about anti-aircraft flak hitting this Lancaster. One night in 1944, his plane came back from a sortie with 47 holes in it and he lost an eye after the war as a result.
“I really haven’t come down to earth yet,” says the happy and grateful family man. “It’s something I just never expected.”
Dublin Core
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Title
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World War II & Flying Memoirs
Description
An account of the resource
Writes of travelling to Scotland before start of the war and then joining the RAF Volunteer Reserve. Continues with account of training in England before going to Lakeland Florida for primary flying training, Cochran field for basic and advanced training on Harvard at Napier Field, Dothan Alabama. Continues training on return to United Kingdom at RAF Windrush flying Oxford. After getting married continues training at RAF Wing on Wellington and then on to RAF Silverstone and Wratting Common on Stirling followed by Waterbeach for Lancaster. Continues with account of first operation over Germany while still training at Wing on 4 Oct 1943. He then went to 115 Squadron at RAF Whitchford. He continues with accounts of first operation on 115 Squadron flowed by detailed accounts of operations in February and March 1944. Mentions that he was commissioned and then describes further operations to Germany and in support of D-Day operations and afterwards. Concludes with description of activities as an instructor at RAF Feltwell.
Creator
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D Cameron
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Sussex
England--Brighton
England--Buckinghamshire
England--High Wycombe
United States
Florida--Lakeland
Georgia--Macon
Alabama--Dothan
England--Gloucestershire
England--Buckinghamshire
England--Suffolk
England--Northamptonshire
England--Cambridgeshire
Germany
Germany--Schweinfurt
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Duisburg
France
France--Normandy
England--Norfolk
France--Le Havre
Florida
Alabama
Georgia
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-03-23
1942-05-10
1942-08-11
1943-05-21
1944-01-05
1944-01-25
1943-10-04
1944-01-30
1944-02-15
1944-02-24
1944-02-25
1944-04-14
1944-06-05
1944-06-06
1944-06-14
1944-06-15
Format
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Thirty-eight page printed document with b/w and colour photographs
Language
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eng
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BCameronDCameronDv1
Coverage
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Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
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David Bloomfield
115 Squadron
1651 HCU
1678 HCU
17 OTU
26 OTU
aircrew
bomb struck
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
crash
Flying Training School
Gee
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
incendiary device
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lancaster Mk 2
love and romance
Me 110
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
pilot
promotion
RAF Dishforth
RAF Feltwell
RAF Hemswell
RAF Lindholme
RAF Silverstone
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Windrush
RAF Wing
RAF Witchford
RAF Wratting Common
searchlight
Stearman
Stirling
Tiger Moth
training
Wellington
Window
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1762/30389/PSmithJJ2001.2.jpg
5af2792c8819245dd9c0ec38c9afc30c
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1762/30389/ASmithJJ201227.2.mp3
0a602ddff875a9df408937afc9059a58
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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Smith, John James
Jim Smith
J J Smith
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Jim Smith (b. 1929, 2481850 Royal Air Force).
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2020-12-27
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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Smith, JJ
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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NM: So, my name is Nigel Moore. I’m recording this interview on behalf of the International Bomber Command Centre in Lincoln. It’s Sunday the 27th of December and I’m in my house in Bushey, Hertfordshire. I’m going to be interviewing John James Smith, known as Jim who happens also to be my father in law. Jim was born in February 1929 in the village of Gretton where he still lives. Gretton is in the northern part of Northamptonshire and very close to the border with Rutland and Leicestershire. It is also located at the top of the southern escarpment overlooking the valley of the River Welland. So, Jim, tell me about the first ten years of your life before the war. What was life like in the village?
JS: Very quiet. You know it was a small village. Only about six hundred people and we just carried on a farming life really. Though with Corby so close Corby was a steel town making tubes. In fact, it made the tubes for the Pluto and most of the men either worked on the farm or at Corby in the steelworks.
NM: So, what about schooling in your family?
JS: Well, we all went to Gretton Primary School and at thirteen, I got a scholarship to go to the Corby Technical College which is about five miles away. Used to have to cycle that every day. Night, night, night and morning.
NM: So, what, what, what changed in village life when war broke out? Because you, you were ten when war broke out
JS: Yes, well —
NM: What changed?
JS: Well, suddenly about forty children came on the train from London and they all went, issued out to various people. And the people opposite us, an elderly woman she had two boys and she said, ‘Oh, no. I want two girls.’ But she had to have two boys. Two boys. And these children hadn’t seen any green fields at all. They came from inner London and hadn’t seen the countryside at all and the first night, first day the two, two boys went down to the river and on the way they came to across a field of sheep and it started to rain. So they tried to get the sheep to go in the hovel but the sheep wouldn’t cooperate with them so they took their coats off and put them over two sheep, two of the sheep and got wet through themselves. They came back up and the woman said, ‘Where are your clothes?’ They said, ‘Oh, we couldn’t get the sheep to go in the sheds so we put our coats on the sheep.’
NM: So, did, did you village children mix at all with the evacuees?
JS: Yes. We did. Yes. They brought two, two teachers with them but one of them quickly disappeared and the other one he was a bit odd. He used to cycle around the village with his tin helmet on and his trilby on top of that and he was an odd sort of a character he was. So we suddenly had these thirty or forty children came into the school and of course we, our education suffered. And the men in the village came up to the school and dug trenches in the garden so we would have somewhere to go when, when the air raids started but of course we never, never went in the trenches at all and we all, the school issued, was the issuing centre for the gas masks. So we all had our gas masks from there and most of the people in Gretton had their gas masks from there as well. And the children, the very small children had a container with the, they put the children in and that was their gas masks.
NM: So did you all have air raid drills at school?
JS: Not really. No. We, they built blast walls around the cloakrooms and we went and sat in there but they were the only air raid precautions we took.
NM: Did you get the Anderson shelters to dig in your gardens?
JS: No. But there was a few in the village and they, they built above ground shelters but nobody ever used them. We used, we used to sit under the table downstairs during the alarms, when the alarm went off. And we had two radio, aircraft air raid sirens. One was at Uppingham which was always going off that was. We didn’t take any notice of that one. And then the one at Corby and we always took notice when that went off. But there were some ack ack guns at Corby. But they only fired about once or twice. Corby itself was a steel town and had Bessemer converters which were open to the skies and it’s a wonder really that they didn’t come and bomb them. But we had smoke cannisters all around Corby and they were lit and the smoke came out when the air raid sirens went.
NM: So, were there air raid wardens in the village?
JS: Yes.
NM: Firewatchers.
JS: Yes. Fire watchers. My father was an auxiliary policeman and there used to be about four or five of those used to walk around the village every night telling people to put the fire, put the light out if their blackout curtains weren’t good.
NM: Can you remember the night that Coventry was bombed in November 1940?
JS: Yes. We, we could see this glow in the sky and we wondered what it was. The planes were droning over us and in fact one was shot down but you could see the clouds of, well the sky was lit up with the explosions over Coventry and this plane was shot down by a Defiant and it was shot down over the village. We were outside and we saw all these tracers going over and in to the German plane and that landed, well crashed about five miles away at another village. All the people were killed in it.
NM: So, at this point you weren’t under the table in the kitchen then.
JS: No.
NM: You were out watching.
JS: That’s it [laughs] it was mid-evening that was. So it wasn’t, we hadn’t got up and gone under the table. We were standing outside and you could hear the drone, the planes droning over all night long. But that was the only action we saw.
NM: Were you aware that night that it was Coventry?
JS: No. No. We didn’t know what it was. We could see this glow in the sky and we didn’t, somebody said, ‘Somebody’s getting it.’ And we didn’t know who it was. But I had an uncle. He lived in Coventry and he said they went out and stood on a hill overlooking the town, city and they saw this parachute coming down and three or four of them said, ‘We’ll go and get him.’ And they went running towards it and suddenly found themselves on their back. It was a land mine. But no, it was very disappointing the next morning. Very depressed to see the city in ruins.
NM: So, you saw German aircraft that night.
JS: Yeah.
NM: What about other occasions during the war? Did you see any German aircraft at all during the war?
JS: Well, we didn’t, no. There was a lone raider, raider came over during the day and that machine gunned some farmers in the, in the valley but it was shot down near Peterborough. And one night we were all laid in bed and we could hear this plane going over and mother was saying, ‘That’s one of theirs.’ And father said, ‘No, it’s not. It’s one of ours.’ All of a sudden the bedroom lit up and he dropped about forty incendiaries in the valley below us and luckily all in the fields. If that had dropped on Gretton which had a lot of thatched cottages it would have been really serious. But the next morning I rode down to the valley to the site and collected a lot of bits of incendiary bombs. I’ve still got one somewhere in the house.
NM: So, were you the only child there or did you all, all the boys —
JS: No.
NM: From the village go down and all the girls as well?
JS: There were a lot of boys went down but you know it was scattered over two or three fields and we collected all the bombs, bomb bits we could find. All the fins at the bottom of the bombs. Some of the, one or two of them fell in the river itself but they didn’t go off. Or didn’t do any damage.
NM: So, did the Corby steelworks themselves get any damage at all during the war?
JS: No. That was very lucky really. No. Only once. Had got a new post office in Corby which hadn’t been opened and the bomb, one bomber came over dropped a series of bombs and one of them dropped outside the Post Office and opened the Post Office up for them. But the steelworks itself didn’t have a bomb dropped on it at all which was unusual because, you know these Bessemer converters going straight to the sky.
NM: Was there an occasion when one crashed in to the steelworks?
JS: That was an American.
NM: Oh, ok.
JS: A Lightning which, at that time I’d gone to the Corby College and we were at lunchtime and we heard this bang and looked up and the Lightning was coming down. Falling out of the sky. The pilot had parachuted out and it fell on, fell on the steelworks but fell in place with nothing there. Didn’t do any damage. And the pilot, he landed at Great Oakley which was about three or four miles away.
NM: So you’ve no idea why. Why he crashed.
JS: No. No. The plane exploded. Came from [pause] what is it? I can’t think. I can’t. About, an airfield about five miles away. We were surrounded by airfields. American and British.
NM: Yeah. So, in fact, the nearby airfields to Gretton were Cottesmore, Wittering.
JS: Yeah.
NM: North Luffenham and Spanhoe.
JS: Yeah.
NM: Can you give some description of the aircraft traffic you saw during the war? Those airfields.
JS: In the early days of the war they, at North Luffenham and Cottesmore they’d got Lancasters. No. Hampdens and Whitworths and they came over. Took a long time to get over from one side of the, one side of the sky to the other. Just limped over but we didn’t really see many. We saw more of the Yanks when they came to Spanhoe and they had gliders there and they used to take them up. When they got over Gretton they used to let them go and the gliders used to glide down to Spanhoe Airfield. And during, during the D-Day landings and also during Arnhem the roads were all closed round, around Spanhoe and we saw the gliders going off and saw masses of Flying Fortresses from various airfields, you know. Quite a few airfields and Flying Fortresses. One Sunday morning I was at work and suddenly there was a big explosion and one of the Flying Fortresses had failed to take off. All the crew got out, got out and the plane exploded and that evening I cycled over to Deenethorpe which was the airfield and got a belt of .5 ammunition. The police were there but they didn’t say anything to us. I flew away with, I come away with about a dozen .5 ammunition which my father took the bullets out, tipped the gunpowder out and lit that and that just flared and then he put the cartridges in a fire and they went all they detonated. Blew up then. So that was only the only real excitement we had.
NM: So, can I take you back to Spring of 1943 when the Lancasters with 617 Squadron were practicing —
JS: Oh yes.
NM: Over the Eye Brook.
JS: Yeah.
NM: Although, of course you didn’t know who they were at the time.
JS: We didn’t, we didn’t know what it was even. We didn’t know there was a reservoir there but you know in those days we didn’t know what was happening in the next village let alone five or six miles away. We could see these Lancasters coming low over about five miles away and as they come over they fired Very lights at them and we certainly knew afterwards that they’d been practicing at the Eye Brook Reservoir for the Dambusters. That was one of the two reservoirs they trained at.
NM: So, how often did you see them? Was it frequent or was it —
JS: Well, we saw them for about a week. Every night for a week or so and then suddenly they stopped and we realised afterwards what they were all about.
NM: So, they’d come over at night would they?
JS: Well, it was, it was dusk sort of thing. We could see them. That was the other side of the valley from us. So we could see them coming over and these Very lights being fired as they went over.
NM: So, moving back to 1944 again and D-Day and Arnhem. Did you see the gliders go off as it were?
JS: Yes.
NM: [unclear]
JS: We saw a lot of gliders going off. We didn’t know anything about it off course until afterwards. All the roads were closed and you weren’t allowed anywhere near Spanhoe. And the gliders went off and of course they didn’t come back, a lot of them. There’s a memorial at Spanhoe showing all the people who died on the various raids. On various operations that took part.
NM: It must have been an impressive sight. Was it?
JS: Yes. It was. Yes. Most impressive was the Flying Fortresses. Masses of them going over. I don’t, as I say there were four or five aerodromes around us and there were masses of these Flying Fortresses flying over. We didn’t, didn’t know at the time what it was all about but you soon found out of course.
NM: Now, during the war of course you went from being a ten year old schoolboy to sixteen by the end of the war. So, tell me —
JS: Yeah.
NM: Tell me about your development during, during those six years.
JS: Well, at thirteen I left Gretton and went to Corby Engineering College and I used to have to cycle there morning and evening. We didn’t see a lot. We saw all these smoke cannisters but never saw them lit. But one night, one evening when I came home from school the ground was covered in these plastic, white plastic pictures of foil. We didn’t know what that was about but of course it was practising the radar and they were all over the place they were. Had bits of foil all over the hedges everywhere.
NM: So, this was Window was it?
JS: Yeah. Windows. Yeah.
NM: So, at Technical College you were training for what? What was your —
JS: Engineering training.
NM: Engineering training.
JS: Yeah. Yeah. And of course, most of the people there went in to the steelworks or part of the steelworks.
NM: So, by the end of the war you were still going to that Technical College.
JS: Yes.
NM: What, what can you remember about VE Day itself? What happened in the village? How did you feel about it all?
JS: Well, everybody was very pleased of course and they had a big bonfire in one of the fields and a greasy pole. I’ll always remember that because most of the men would try and climb up this greasy pole and not succeeding. And in the end they pushed this chap up with two poles under his feet. And when he got to the top and got the flag he got a small pig and piglet and that’s the only real thing I can remember really about the VE Day.
NM: So after the end of the war I know you did National Service. What happened between you, the end of the war and you doing your National Service?
JS: Well, there was one other thing with regard to the Americans they decided, well with their, with our Army cadets they said they’d take us all up. And they took two Dakotas. We sat in the Dakotas. No seats of course. We sat on the floor and they took us up on one Sunday afternoon for about half an hour and flew around and then we had our tea up there. Had cakes which I hadn’t seen before and it was very very very good of them. And then when the rationing was on you had to cycle to Corby every Saturday and get cakes which weren’t available in the village.
NM: Was there any other impact of rationing on, on the village life?
JS: Well —
NM: Were allotments and home grown —
JS: Yes.
NM: And all that?
JS: There were a lot of allotments there taken over. My father had what? A ten pole. Twenty pole. Which was quite a big bit to dig and grow mainly potatoes. And then we had a Pig Club in the village and well a lot of people kept a pig in the back garden and every Sunday they used to go around looking at everybody’s pig and having a drink in everybody’s cottage and they finished up finally the worse for wear. My grandfather, he kept a pig and as I said we had some people from, lived in Coventry and when they used to come down my father, my grandfather used to hang their hams up in the, in the living room and when they, when they came down from Coventry they always wanted to take one of the hams back. So, in the end when he knew they were coming he used to take his hams down and hide them in the other room.
NM: So, when did you graduate from Technical College?
JS: Well, when I was fifteen, fifteen and a half, sixteen and started work straight away and spent five years as an apprentice. And at the end of the five years, on my twenty first birthday when I got on top rate of, for the money I had my calling up papers. I always remember when I started as an apprentice. I got twenty nine and nine pence a week for forty seven hours and when I’d just got on top rate, on the same day I got my call up papers to go on National Service and spent two years, well eighteen months but due, due to the crisis, Suez I think it was it put up two years. But I, I was lucky. I got posted to an aerodrome near Rugby which was only about forty miles away and I used to come home every weekend.
NM: So, you did your National Service with the RAF.
JS: Yeah.
NM: From 1950 then when you were twenty one.
JS: Yeah.
NM: So how come you ended up in the RAF as opposed to the Army?
JS: Well, we had, we went to Northampton to have our medicals and while we were there they had an Army and a Navy and an RAF chappy there and they asked you where you wanted to go in. I said the RAF. They said, ‘Why?’ I said ‘I don’t like marching.’ That was good enough. I got in the RAF. But a lot of, a lot of them went in the Army which they didn’t like at all. And one or two got in the Navy. But most of us went in the RAF and I went to Padgate to do National Service training and after six weeks had an interview and they sent me to a training college. At Weeton I think it was. Near Blackpool. And we had an eighteen month course in six weeks there and after we came out of there they posted me to Church Lawford near Rugby and I spent the rest of the time there.
NM: And what was your role at Church Lawford?
JS: Well, I was on the maintenance side of the earth moving equipment and I used to have to go out to various sub-contractors to sign off the work they had done and I always used to arrange for it to be on a Friday so that I could go straight off to, on leave for the weekend.
NM: So you could go back home for the weekend.
JS: Yeah. I was, by that time I’d been made up to a corporal and there was a, you had a security patrol every six, seven weeks and you had to spend all the weekend on the camp. So I used to arrange it so that on the Friday I used to be away from there to another civilian place. One of them was at St Albans and we stayed at the RAF camp there at, at somewhere. On the De Havilland site I think it was. And I used to arrange so that I went on Friday. So, they used to, when they used to ring up seeing where I was they’d say, ‘Oh, he’s on detachment.’ And by that time you’d be on detachment for seven or eight weeks before I’d be sent somewhere else and they realised I was still on the camp and so I didn’t do it. I only did security patrol once.
NM: So you spent the whole two years at RAF Church Lawford did you?
JS: Yeah. Yeah.
NM: Were, were any other trips involved? Did you get any flying at all?
JS: No. No. I didn’t see any aircraft at all while I was in there. Oh, I went, I went, they sent me up to Acklington to repair a tractor. RAF Acklington and they said, ‘We’ll take you to an airfield in in Birmingham and a plane will come and pick you up.’ So, they dropped me at this airfield. All the hangars had, all the control places windows had been smashed. I stood there wondering why, what was going to happen and all of a sudden this Avro Anson dropped out of the sky, picked me up and took me up to RAF Acklington. And after repairing the tractor I come back on a lorry all the way from there to, to Rugby. Stayed overnight at, in Doncaster. At the airfield there.
NM: So at the end of your National Service you went back to the, back to the steelworks?
JS: Yes. Yes.
NM: At age twenty three. Yeah?
JS: Yeah. I went back and they put me straight in the drawing office so I didn’t actually go to do any work in the workshop itself. I just stayed in the workshop, in the drawing office for six or seven years. Then started doing various, started building various things outside and I used to go and look after those.
NM: Such as? What were you —
JS: Well, the —
NM: Mostly involved in?
JS: Well, the most, the biggest one was the ropeway aerial ropeway which was six miles long from Rothwell to Corby. And I was a clerk of works on that so I oversee the work on that to get that working.
NM: So, this was to try and get, is this is to get the ironstone from the quarry —
JS: Yeah.
NM: To the steelworks.
JS: Yeah.
NM: This six mile ropeway.
JS: They were going to build another big dragline but that, and this ropeway was going to provide the iron ore for it but they cancelled it. The big dragline. So really it was surplus to requirements the ropeway. But it stuck around for four or five years and then they cut it all up.
NM: So, you were involved in all the, how many quarries were there around Gretton and Corby that you were working with?
JS: Oh I don’t know. About eight or nine I should think. Yeah. With large draglines in four of them and various smaller ones in the others.
NM: And how long did you take, take on that role for?
JS: Until, well until I was made, after about six, seven years I was made engineer in charge of maintenance of all the various areas and I stayed there until I was made redundant in nineteen [pause] I don’t know what it was now. No. I can’t remember.
NM: Was that when the steelworks closed?
JS: Yeah.
NM: Right.
JS: That was ’59, I think.
NM: And what did you do? What happened after that?
JS: Well, I got a job. Well, I knew one of the chaps in the steel, in the tube works. Used to go on the same manager’s mess tables as him and he said, ‘What are you going to do when you’re made redundant?’ I said, ‘I’m going to go on quality assurance. Come back to haunt you.’ Because he was in charge of quality assurance for the two works and he rang me up and said, ‘Were you serious?’ I said, ‘Oh yes.’ He said, ‘Well, Lloyds Register of Shipping want somebody and would you be interested?’ So I said, ‘Yes. Yes, I would. Yeah.’ So, he said, ‘Go to Birmingham and see the chief, chief surveyor there and he’ll take you out to lunch.’ And I went to the Birmingham office and he said, ‘Oh, I’m too busy to see you today,’ he said, ‘Can you start next week?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ And that was my interview for Lloyd’s Register of Shipping. Somebody else had joined from another area at the same time as me. He said, ‘How did you get on at the interview?’ I said, ‘I didn’t have one.’ He said, ‘Oh, I had terrible one,’ he said. ‘They grilled me for about an hour,’ he said [laughs] So mine was just, ‘Can you start next week?’
NM: So, your last part of your career then was with Lloyds inspector.
JS: Yeah. Yeah. Lloyds. Yeah. And then I had a stroke when I was fifty nine and so I didn’t work after that. That’s been thirty odd years ago now.
NM: So that just about covers everything.
JS: Yeah.
NM: I had on my list.
JS: Yeah. And me.
NM: Have you got anything else to —
JS: I don’t think so. No.
NM: Add to that.
JS: No.
NM: When you look back during the war what was your overall impressions of growing up between those formative years of ten to sixteen and then with such major events going on around you. What was your —
JS: We didn’t really know much about it. As I say we lived in a village and we didn’t really know what was happening in the next village let alone what was, what was happening in the world. I remember on D-Day I was doing a trig lesson and I put in the top of the page, “D-Day.” And that’s really all I knew about it. So it didn’t really affect me much at all.
NM: Ok.
JS: Yeah.
NM: Very good. Thank you very much.
JS: Thank you.
NM: We’ll finish the interview there. Thank you very much.
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 John James Smith
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Nigel Moore
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
2020-12-27
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. 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
00:34:46 Audio Recording
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Sound
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
ASmithJJ201227, PSmithJJ2001
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Description
An account of the resource
John Smith grew up near Corby surrounded by aerodromes so he was used to the sight of aircraft. He observed Lancaster aircraft practicing for the Dambusters raid over Eye Brook Reservoir. He also witnessed glider practice and was impressed by the sight of the Flying Fortresses flying overhead. He also witnessed the German aircraft flying overhead to bomb Coventry and witnessed a German aircraft shot down. After the war he spent his National Service in the RAF at Church Lawford.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940-11
1943
1944
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Northamptonshire
England--Corby
England--Coventry
England--Warwickshire
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Julie Williams
Carolyn Emery
617 Squadron
animal
B-17
bombing
childhood in wartime
Defiant
Eder Möhne and Sorpe operation (16–17 May 1943)
evacuation
home front
incendiary device
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
P-38
RAF Church Lawford
RAF Spanhoe
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1524/30282/BBaxterPDBaxterPDv1.1.pdf
577eb11ecf5974b8a0c61795657b59c5
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
Baxter, Peter Dennis
P D Baxter
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-07-12
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
Baxter, PD
Description
An account of the resource
63 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Peter Baxter (b. 1922, 52604 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, photographs and documents. He was trained as an airframe apprentice at RAF Halton and served as ground crew before volunteering to become air crew. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 12 and 153 Squadrons.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Michael Baxter and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
I Flew with Nine Wing Commanders
Description
An account of the resource
The detailed and wide ranging story of Peter Baxter's service in the RAF from an Airframe Apprentice to Flight Engineer Leader.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Peter Baxter
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Book in .pdf
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text. Memoir
Text
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BBaxterPDBaxterPDv1
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.
England--Lincolnshire
England--Buckinghamshire
Wales--Glamorgan
England--Staffordshire
Wales--Gwynedd
Germany--Berlin
Italy--Milan
France--La Rochelle
Europe--Frisian Islands
Germany--Essen
Germany--Düsseldorf
Italy--Turin
France--Lorient
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Nuremberg
France--Saint-Nazaire
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Mülheim an der Ruhr
Germany--Wuppertal
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Wanne-Eickel
Germany--Bonn
Germany--Paderborn
Italy
Great Britain
Germany
France
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
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.
12 Squadron
153 Squadron
50 Squadron
aerial photograph
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
Battle
Beaufighter
Blenheim
bombing
Cook’s tour
coping mechanism
crash
crewing up
debriefing
dispersal
Distinguished Flying Medal
Do 217
entertainment
final resting place
fitter airframe
fitter engine
flight engineer
fuelling
ground crew
Halifax
Halifax Mk 1
Halifax Mk 3
He 111
Heavy Conversion Unit
incendiary device
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lancaster Mk 1
Lancaster Mk 3
Lincoln
mess
military ethos
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
Navy, Army and Air Force Institute
Nissen hut
nose art
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
pilot
promotion
RAF Cosford
RAF Faldingworth
RAF Halton
RAF Hemswell
RAF Kirmington
RAF Llandwrog
RAF Scampton
RAF St Athan
RAF Sturgate
RAF Tilstock
RAF Waddington
RAF Wickenby
recruitment
target photograph
training
Whitley
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1488/30256/MRennisonJ[Ser -Dob]-160224-03.pdf
6a0541d108d58629d533099f1864c712
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
Rennison, John
J Rennison
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
2016-02-24
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Rennison, J
Description
An account of the resource
Five items. The collection contains a map of German aeronautical and defence data, Italian language propaganda leaflets a fire guard's pocket chart and an air raid precautions book of cigarette cards.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by John Rennison and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Air raid precautions album
Description
An account of the resource
An album to contain a series of cigarette cards of national importance. Shows pictures of some of the things that the government and local authorities are working out for the protection of the general public. Includes: window protection, splinter proof walls, dugouts, shelters, incendiary bombs (effects and extinguishing), types of fire pumps, respirators, anti gas clothing, actions in event of gas and air defences.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
W D & H O Wills
IBCC Digital Archive
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Cover and eighteen page colour printed book with text ands artwork
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Artwork
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MRennisonJ[Ser#-Dob]-160224-03
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--London
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Air Raid Precautions
bombing
civil defence
firefighting
home front
incendiary device
shelter
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1488/30255/MRennisonJ[Ser -Dob]-160224-02.pdf
643ea59160e67d35774e4e638f9f2f3a
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
Rennison, John
J Rennison
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
2016-02-24
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Rennison, J
Description
An account of the resource
Five items. The collection contains a map of German aeronautical and defence data, Italian language propaganda leaflets a fire guard's pocket chart and an air raid precautions book of cigarette cards.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by John Rennison and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Fire guard's pocket book pictures, diagrams and tables
Description
An account of the resource
Covers first aid, care of stirrup pump, war gases, organisation, duties, equipment, team drills and actions and types of bombs including incendiaries. Concludes with miscellaneous notes.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
T M Ross
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Jordan and Sons Ltd
IBCC Digital Archive
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Multipage printed booklet
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
MRennisonJ[Ser#-Dob]-160224-02
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--London
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.
bombing
civil defence
firefighting
home front
incendiary device
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1743/30233/LMillsGA1445361v1.1.pdf
aa31d8bf52eba92e2abce6ffe01f9373
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
Mills, Gordon Albert
Albert Gordon Mills
G A Mills
A G Mills
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
2020-10-28
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
Mills, GA
Description
An account of the resource
25 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Gordon Albert Mills (b. 1921, 1448361, 196610 Royal Air Force). He volunteered for aircrew as air gunner and completed operations on 149, 218 and 75 NZ Squadrons on Lancaster and Stirling in 1944/45 and stayed in the RAF after the war. The collection contains his log book, documents, photographs and decorations.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by L A Barker and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Gordon Mills observer's and air gunner's log book
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
LMillsGA1445361v1
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
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.
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
Description
An account of the resource
G A Mills’ RAF Observer’s and Air Gunner’s Flying Log Book, from 18th October 1943 to 24th May 1952, detailing training, operations and instructional duties as an air gunner, and post-war duties including Operation Sunray. Based at RAF Penrhos (No.9 (O)AFU), RAF Little Horwood and RAF Wing (26 OTU), RAF Stradishall (1657 Conversion Unit), RAF Methwold (149 and 218 Squadrons), RAF Feltwell (No.3 Lancaster Finishing School), RAF Wratting Common (1651 Conversion Unit), RAF Mepal (75 (NZ) Squadron and 44 (Rhodesia) Squadron), RAF Mildenhall (44 (Rhodesia) Squadron), RAF Leconfield (Central Gunnery School), RAF North Luffenham (1653 Heavy Conversion Unit), RAF Lindholme (230 Operational Conversion Unit), RAF Waddington and RAF Binbrook (50 Squadron), RAF Shallufa and RAF Hemswell (83 Squadron). Aircraft in which flown: Anson, Wellington, Stirling, Lancaster, Lincoln. Also Meteor and Dakota as a passenger. Records a total of 33 operations, sometimes only as “Special Op” with no target named. Recorded targets in France, Germany, Netherlands and Norway are: Alençon, Brest, Cologne, Dessau, Essen, Gelsenkirchen, Gladbach, Hamm, Kiel, Krefeld, La Rochelle, Langendreer, Morlaix, Oslo, Regensburg, The Hague and Wesel. His pilots on operations were Squadron Leader Hutchins, Flight Sergeant Holmes, Flying Officer Murley, Flying Officer Martin, Flying Officer Baker and Squadron Leader McKenna DFC. Proficiency assessments include: “Above average in all gunnery subjects”, “A most sound and able gunner, manner, bearing and discipline unquestionable”
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Leitch
Callum Davies
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Egypt
France
Germany
Great Britain
Netherlands
Norway
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
Egypt--Suez
England--Buckinghamshire
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Norfolk
England--Rutland
England--Suffolk
England--Yorkshire
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
France--Alençon
France--Brest
France--La Rochelle
France--Morlaix
Germany--Bochum
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Dessau (Dessau)
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Essen
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Mönchengladbach
Germany--Regensburg
Germany--Wesel (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Netherlands--Hague
Norway--Oslo
Wales--Gwynedd
North Africa
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
1944-05-27
1944-05-28
1944-05-29
1944-05-30
1944-05-31
1944-06-02
1944-06-03
1944-06-06
1944-06-07
1944-08-26
1944-08-27
1944-10-31
1944-11-01
1944-11-05
1945-01-14
1945-01-28
1945-01-29
1945-02-01
1945-02-16
1945-02-18
1945-02-19
1945-02-23
1945-02-24
1945-02-25
1945-03-07
1945-03-08
1945-03-11
1945-03-18
1945-03-27
1945-04-09
1945-04-10
1945-04-13
1945-04-14
1945-04-20
1945-04-29
1945-05-01
1945-05-09
1945-05-12
1945-06-17
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
149 Squadron
1651 HCU
1653 HCU
1657 HCU
218 Squadron
26 OTU
44 Squadron
50 Squadron
75 Squadron
83 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
bombing
Cook’s tour
crash
Heavy Conversion Unit
incendiary device
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lincoln
Martinet
mine laying
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
Operational Training Unit
RAF Binbrook
RAF Feltwell
RAF Hemswell
RAF Leconfield
RAF Lindholme
RAF Little Horwood
RAF Mepal
RAF Methwold
RAF Mildenhall
RAF North Luffenham
RAF Penrhos
RAF Shallufa
RAF Stradishall
RAF Waddington
RAF Wing
RAF Wratting Common
Stirling
take-off crash
training
Wellington
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Prickett, Thomas Other
T O Prickett
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
2016-10-11
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Prickett, TO
Description
An account of the resource
13 items. The collection concerns Air Chief Marshal Sir Thomas Prickett KCB, DSO, DFC (1913 -2010, 40427 Royal Air Force) and contains his log books, documents and photographs. He served in the RAF from 1937 to 1970 and flew operations as a pilot with 148 and 103 Squadrons.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Lady Prickett and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Access Rights
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Permission granted for commercial projects
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
MOST SECRET
[underlined] PERSONAL REPORT NO. 7 ON OPERATIONAL FLIGHT BY F.L.O. attached to No. 1 GROUP, R.A.F. [/underlined]
(N.B. Sidelined portions [preceded with +] should not be reproduced in any Summary.)
Date: Night 24/25th July, 1943
Target: HAMBURG.
Captain: S/Ldr. T.C. Prickett, D.F.C.
Aircraft: Lancaster III, ‘I’ of No.103 Bomber Squadron, R.A.F.
Position in A/C: 2nd Pilot’s seat on starboard side.
Bomb load: 1 x 4,000 lb., 3 x 1,000 lb, 4 x 30 lb. I.Bs.,
540 x 4 lb. I.Bs.
[addendum]
7000
1500
2200
-------
10700
-------- [/addendum]
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[underlined] GENERAL [/underlined]
a) With zero hour at 0100 hrs., a total of 751 aircraft, 12 of which are missing, took off to attack HAMBURG in six phases between 0102 hrs. and 0150 hrs., subsequent to target marking by aircraft of P.F.F. This was to consist of white illuminating flares and yellow target indicator markers for P.F.F. use only and followed by red T.I. markers backed up by green T.I. markers. Main force aircraft were to aim at the red T.I.s if visible, otherwise at the centre of the pattern of the green T.I.s, both of which cascade to the ground from between 3,000/10,000 ft. Our aircraft was included in the first phase from zero plus 2 to zero plus 10.
b) Route ordered was:-
Base – Mablethorpe – 5445N 0700E – 5355N 0945E – Target – 5315N 1000E – 5430N 0603E – Base.
Yellow route markers were dropped by P.F.F. aircraft on the way in at 5411N 0850E and on the way out at 5343N 0850E and on the way out at 5343N 0836E.
c) Weather:-
Weather on the route was good with up to 9/10 low stratus cloud East of about 4⁰E which cleared after crossing the enemy coast. Visibility over land was good with slight haze in the target area, which did not prevent many aircraft seeing ground detail. A half moon was starting to rise when approaching the target. Up to 6/10 low stratus cloud was again met after re-crossing the enemy coast up to about 4⁰E.
+ d) For the purpose of neutralising enemy R.D.F. equipments, all aircraft carried specially + designed bundles of metalised paper, one of which was to be thrown out at one minute
+ intervals from the first turning point on the route in until the turning point at 5430N 0603E. This + was the first occasion on which this had been put into operation.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[underlined] NARRATIVE [/underlined]
1. We took off at 22.00 hrs. from Elsham Wolds and after gaining some height over base, set course for MABLETHHORPE at 2251 hrs., height 11,000 ft., and thereafter gaining height up to about 20,000 ft. at the first turning point. Shortly after this, as we were some three minutes before E.T.A., an orbit was made and indicated speed reduced from 145 to 140 m.p.h.
2. Before seeing the yellow route markers at the enemy coast, slight H.A.A. was seen to starboard, probably from HELIGOLAND. We crossed the coast which was not visible, soon after the yellow markers appeared, leaving them just to starboard at
/Over,
[page break]
-2-
0044 hrs. At about this time searchlight activity in the BRUNSBUTTEL area could be seen, in which about twelve searchlights eventually formed a well-shaped cone into the apex of which slight H.A.A. from 3-4 gunsites was fired together with spasmodic L.A.A. from about three scattered guns firing green tracer. Another cone of searchlights could also be seen further off and probably around CUXHAVEN.
3. About this time also a large number of searchlights could be seen in the distance ahead and over HAMBURG with a group of searchlights on our port beam, probably over NEUMINSTER or KIEL. Only 2-3 searchlights were met in the KIEL CANAL area, but these gave no trouble, and there was no suggestion of any concentration here.
4. After passing this area, as no illuminating flares or yellow T.Is had yet been dropped over the target, it was again decided to make an orbit, which was carried out without incident in spite of the concentration of aircraft. When completed, the flares and markers were seen going down. Two incendiary patches were also seen to starboard; these had either been jettisoned or marked the site of a dummy.
5. The layout of the searchlights of HAMBURG appeared in general to be in greatest strength to the W. and N.W., N.E. and E., S.E. and S.W., with comparatively few to the N. and S., which areas lay on our track, thus leaving a fairly free gap along the N – S axis of the target area. There were at no time more than four groups of searchlights working together, one in each of the above areas and about 100/125 in all. The most effective and well formed cone, in which I counted 26 beams, although there may have been a few more on the Southern side, was in the W. and N.W. area. This first engaged its target well to the West of the city, following it in towards the centre, and it was noticeable that the most Westerly beams depressed finally to the low angle of about 20⁰, at which they appeared to remain exposed for longer than is normal. A moderate amount of H.A.A. fire at predictor control “seen” appeared in and around the apex some 30 seconds after the cone was formed, much of the fire being buried behind the target, which, however, was not visible from our aircraft.
6. At the same time the N.E. – E. layout appeared to have difficulty in forming a good cone, although again 25/30 beams were involved. This did not prevent H.A.A. guns engaging in salvoes of not more than 4 on a moderate and haphazard scale. It is doubtful if there was much accuracy and I formed the opinion that the method employed was predictor control “unseen” with the target to be engaged being roughly indicated by the searchlight formation and, apart from the cone on the Western side of the target, this applied to the H.A.A. fire in the areas of the ill-formed cones seen, none of which appeared to illuminate a target. Rate of fire seemed generally slow and not above 10 r.p.m. and rather irregular, with shells bursting between 18,000ft. and 22,000 ft. but mainly at the lower levels.
7. A bombing run of about 2 minutes was made on heading 170⁰, height 21,000 ft., I.A.S. 150 m.p.h. with wind speed 9 m.p.h. from S., giving Ground Speed of about 200 m.p.h. and with red T.I. marker in the bombsight, bombs were dropped off at 0111 hrs. During the crossing of the target, ¾ searchlights were moving slowly as if trying to make contact with us or other aircraft, two or three of which could be seen below us, but the task seemed beyond them, although no appreciable evasive action was taken.
8. The point of greatest interest was the appearance of the H.A.A. bursts seen in the target area, all of which were of the same type and which had been described to me by crews attacking this target about nine months ago. Observed from a distance the individual burst can best be described as a much less obvious flash than normal which expanded as a ring of luminous particles visible for ¾ to 1 second leaving the centre of the ring blank as would occur if, when dropping a stone into water, a single ripple moved away concentrically from the point of impact, leaving the water undisturbed behind it. It seems that when the line of flight of the shell is towards or away from the observer, the ring is quite circular; if the line of flight is oblique to the line of flight to the observer’s line of sight, the ring appears as oval, and if at right angles to the line of sight, the ring appears as oval, and if at right angles to the line of sight, the luminous particles appear to expand in a straight line for an equal distance either side of the point of burst and varying between vertical and horizontal, as a ring would appear edge-on to the observer
/Cont.
[page break]
-3 -
When close to and over the target area, the form of the bursts could be seen clearly and appeared like a widespread shuttlecock which spread out concentrically to the point of burst with a forward movement conforming to the direction of the line of flight. The angle of spread was between 90⁰ and 135⁰.
9. At no time in the target area, or elsewhere, were we picked up by searchlights or engaged by H.A.A. defences; no other aircraft were seen illuminated and no L.A.A. was in action in the target area.
10. At 0109 hrs., when running up to bomb, a large red-orange fire sprang up and lasted for about 30 seconds before dying down; this was in the centre of the town. On leaving the target many fires were starting and a heavy bank of black smoke was rising on the Southern side, presumably from oil fires. Glow from the target area could be seen from about 100 miles away.
11. After altering course at the turning point S. of HAMBURG a fire on the ground with much smoke was seen and was thought to be a crashed aircraft although none was seen shot down, nor were any combats or confirmed enemy aircraft seen throughout the flight. Shortly after this the River Elbe could be seen to starboard and the yellow route markers at 5343N 0836E about the same time. The ELBE was visible from the target area up to its mouth, but no searchlight or A.A. defences were in action. A few H.A.A. bursts of the normal type were seen between CUXHAVEN and BREMERHAVEN with some searchlight and H.A.A. activity in the latter area, and about 8 searchlights exposed at CUXHAVEN as we passed about 5 miles S., but these were trying to engage another aircraft at which some H.A.A. was fired at predictor control “unseen”.
12. Apart from a few H.A.A. rounds fired at another aircraft either from SCHARNHORN Is or perhaps ship-fired, as well as the dropping of many yellow flares over a period of about 30 minutes many miles S. of our track in the direction of the DUTCH FRISIAN Is, or coast, but with no other apparent activity, also observing a light flashed from sea level whish might have been an S.O.S., nothing further of interest occurred, and we landed at base at 0335 hrs.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[underlined] CONCLUSION [/underlined]
1. There were no combats and only seven sightings of enemy aircraft of this Group, mostly at a distance from the observing aircraft, and this, together with the apparent inaccuracy and spasmodic nature of H.A.A. fire, as well as the very low percentage of losses, indicates that the counter R.D.F measure adopted was highly successful.
2. There no longer appears to be any searchlight concentration area on either side of the KIEL CANAL and the complete lack of defences along the River ELBE from the Western limits of HAMBURG – ALTONA G.D.A. suggests their removal. Although the ordered route was from 10 to 20 miles S. of the river, it would be unusual for all aircraft to be dead on track.
3. Searchlights in the target area were generally ineffective due to height of attack, concentration of aircraft in the area and smoke from fires and I.Bs. No conclusion can be drawn as to the method of control, but there was nothing to suggest that this was by means of radiolocation.
4. The slow and irregular rate of fire and scattered appearance of the salvoes of bursts did not indicate barrage fire in the early stages of the attack; the majority of guns were probably fired at predictor control “unseen” in the main, or “seen” when an occasional opportunity offered.
5. Although incandescent shell bursts, conforming to no particular shape, were seen as early as November 1942, the “incandescent ring burst” has never been reported outside HAMBURG. An explanation of this phenomenon may be that pellets of magnesium, or other luminous substance, are inserted outside of the
/Cont.
[page break]
-4-
H.E. shell filling, and on the shell bursting, these continue on the line of the flight of the shell, being forced, owing to their position and probable light weight, towards the outside of the force burst and, therefore, appear in the shapes described in para. 8 of the Narrative. It may be due to the light weight that the spread of the incandescent particles is as much as 90⁰ to 135⁰. The object of this phenomenon appears to be purely deterrent although the possibility of an incendiary purpose cannot be excluded.
6. The majority of gunsites in the target area are 6-gun and there are at least 6 x 12-gun positions, but, unexpectedly, I did not see any indication of more that 4 guns being fired in salvo at any time. This suggests that F.M.G. (Radiolocation equipment) is deployed only down to 6-gun positions or greater, and that, owing to the technique being used by the attacking aircraft (see para. d above), 6 and 12 gun sites were unable to engage at “unseen” methods, and, in the confusion, even if helped by an indication from searchlights, they did not resort to barrage fire, the 4-gun sites alone engaging, albeit inaccurately, by such aid as could be obtained from searchlights or, possibly, S/Locs.
Major, R.A.,
[underline] F.L.O., No.1 Group, R.A.F.[/underlined]
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Personal Report No 7 on Operational Flight
Description
An account of the resource
A detailed report about a operation to Hamburg.
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
Four typewritten sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Service material
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MPrickettTO40427-161011-010001,
MPrickettTO40427-161011-010002,
MPrickettTO40427-161011-010003,
MPrickettTO40427-161011-010004
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--Mablethorpe
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Brunsbüttel (Schleswig-Holstein)
Germany--Cuxhaven
Germany--Neumünster (Schleswig-Holstein)
Germany--Kiel
Europe--Elbe River
Germany--Bremerhaven
Netherlands--West Frisian Islands
Germany--Kiel Canal
Germany--Hamburg
Germany
Netherlands
England--Lincolnshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-07-24
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Frances Grundy
1 Group
103 Squadron
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
bombing of Hamburg (24-31 July 1943)
Distinguished Flying Cross
incendiary device
Lancaster
Lancaster Mk 3
Pathfinders
pilot
RAF Elsham Wolds
searchlight
target indicator
Window