When war was declared in September 1939, I was in my second last
year of school. In October of that year Russia invaded Finland
and we were busy collecting warm clothing and tinned food to be
forwarded to the people of Finland. It is very doubtful
if any of the material collected by schools in Australia ever
reached the Finns.
In early April,
’40, Germany invaded Norway after a period of quest called “The
Phony War”. At this stage it looked as if the war would
last long enough for me to participate and there was no doubt
at all that I would join the air force when old enough.
After the “Blitzkrieg”
when German forces rolled up the map of Europe and considered
an invasion of England, it looked to me as if the war would be
over in a very short time. I could not help a feeling of
disappointment that it should end so soon. Looking back
over the years I find it hard to understand this attitude, but
I guess this applied to most young men of my age. I know
that most of my schoolmates had this same attitude. The
“Battle of Britain” put paid to any invasion attempt of England
by the Germans. The bombing of London and other cities continued
now at night instead of by daylight and it now looked as if the
war was not over yet. Subsequent invasion of Russia and
Africa by Germany looked like prolonging it for me. Although
armchair experts predicted the Russian campaign would be over
in six months.
The Japanese
entered the war with the bombing of Pearl Harbour in December
1941. Now it was global warfare and seemed endless.
Indeed, Australia was threatened with invasion.
After obtaining
my leaving certificate I joined the Commonwealth Bank at Nowra,
N.S.W. and was transferred after three months to Carlton, N.S.W.
branch. On my 18th birthday I obtained an application
form to join the RAAF and forwarded it to my father for his consent
to my application. He duly consented and returned it with
the words “Don’t procrastinate”.
The bank
also granted me permission to join the forces. Banking was
a reserved occupation, but the bank did not stand in the way of
anyone who wished to join up. In fact they encouraged it.
In due course
a notice was received by mail to report to No. 1 Recruiting Depot
at Waterloo for medical examination and aptitude tests.
The medical was particularly thorough and I was accepted as aircrew
after passing both. Entry to the air force was not immediate
and we recruits were notified that we were placed on reserve and
advised that we could expect to be called up in about six months.
We were also required to attend night classes at our local high
school for instruction in various subjects pertaining to the Air
Force, i.e. navigation, Morse code and maths etc. We were
also given a lapel badge to wear noting that we were reservists.
As time dragged on I decided not to wait for the Air Force call
up and applied to the Navy as a Midshipman Gunnery Officer.
After the usual medical etc. I was accepted for training and put
on the reserve until the next course was available at the Naval
College in Melbourne. I remember my Navy number was NR 3213.
Approximately two weeks later I received a very irate phone call
at work from a Naval officer telling me in no uncertain terms
that they had found out I was on the Air Force reserve and what
the bloody hell was I doing wasting their bloody time. I
explained that I was sick of waiting to be called up. If
they were withdrawing my naval application I would join the Army.
He told me in a rather rude manner that the Army had also been
advised that I was Air Force reserve and not to be so bloody anxious
to go to war. There was nothing to do but wait the remaining
months for my call up. Eventually it arrived early July,
1942, allowing me some weeks to put my affairs in order and take
all weeks leave from the Bank.
On 15th
August 1942, I, in company with a few hundred others, reported
to the recruiting depot bringing with me a cut lunch as requested.
I can’t remember if I had a suitcase with me or not. All
I can remember is the utter confusion as we all milled around
wondering where to go or what to do. Recruiting Sergeants
soon brought order from the chaos by calling out the different
trade categories from ground staff to form either to the left
or right and for aircrew to form up to rear. As aircrew
we had to undergo the same medical and eye tests we had done before.
Those of us who had not attended night classes for some reason
or other were interviewed individually by an officer to explain
why. I gave my reason, as the Bank was short of staff we
were required to work nights. This he accepted and after
a short algebra test decided I had sufficient educational qualifications.
I did not admit that the real reason I did not attend these classes
was because I did not know what the hell the teacher was talking
about.
At approximately
1 PM we aircrew were marched out to waiting buses. Well
sort of marched, more like shuffled. We disembarked at Bradfield
Park, Lindfield NSW. This was then No. 2 initial training
school to be our home for the next few months.
Firstly,
we were divided into pre-assigned groups then shown our quarters.
Kitting out was the next job – issue of uniform, blankets, webbing
equipment and work overalls, shoes and work boots.
This took approximately 1 ½ hours then we had to report back to
our huts and stow our gear. The next instruction was to
put on overalls (known to all and sundry as “goon skins”), boots
and berets.
Next on the
list was to be issued with a pallaisse (a straw mattress) then
go to the storeroom to fill it with straw. Two of the members
of my group were ex-ground staff sergeants who had re-mustered
to aircrew. Like us they now had the glorious rank of Aircraftsman
Class 2, the lowest rank in the Air Force. They advised
us to stuff the palliasse with as much straw as we could.
From experience they knew how straw soon compacts and the mattress
would be extremely uncomfortable.
After being
shown how to fold our blankets and mattress we were paraded outside
the hut to meet our Drill sergeant. We knew in a very short
time that we were not civilians, but the lowest scum on earth.
Sgt. Dean had a large bristling moustache and a face fierce enough
to go with it.
Now, we were
obliged to go on to the Morse code room to test out skills.
We were to receive and send Morse. God how I now wished
that I had attended those night classes. I found that a
few of my group looked as if they had the same thought.
We put head phones on and were supposed to interpret the series
of dits and dahs, coming through the head set. It was a
complete mystery to me and also the blokes next to me.
Those who knew
Morse were praised, but we who did not received a tongue-lashing.
We idiots were now assigned to “singing classes”. How embarrassing
it became during the next few weeks, the whole group of singing
d’dah = A dad d’d’dit = B etc. but it sure worked, we all became
far more proficient than the so-called experts did.
We can’t say
that we were fond of our Sergeant, but over the period we became
used to his “pick up your feet you bloody animals”. He did
turn us into a formidable marching team.
Time passed
quickly. I liked the subjects and had very good results
although while at school my marks were only fair.
Well into our
training we had to appear before a category selection board.
On the strength of this interview and exam results were categorized
into various air crew branches i.e. observer, wireless operator
and air gunner. The interview was quite an ordeal.
We had to march individually down a long hut, salute the members
of the board consisting of some high-ranking officers and subject
ourselves to questioning. I think most of us wished to be
pilots. I was asked which category I wanted then had to
explain why I wanted to be a pilot and why I should be selected
as such. After thirty torrid minutes we were dismissed,
our fate unknown.
Towards the
final days at Bradfield Park all groups of 31 courses were paraded
to hear our various postings, by this time I knew to my disgust
that I was to be an observer. Various names were called
and their postings as time went by, it seemed hours in the hot
sun, my name still had not been called. This left some very
few of us who were still left standing wondering what was happening
to us. Then we heard the following names, mine included,
were to report to embarkation depot, Caufield Racecourse, Melbourne
to embark for training in Canada. Misery turned to joy in
a second, suddenly the envy of those to train in Australia.
After a weeks
embarkation leave we were proceeded by train to Melbourne.
I had by this time been promoted to Leading Aircraftsman, another
rung on the ladder. Arriving at Caulfield by bus we found
our quarters were in one of the stands, sleeping between the seats.
Most uncomfortable, but we could put up with that because it should
not be for long.
Time spent here
was very boring and confusing. No set duties or exercises,
just everyone more or less sitting around waiting for word of
a ship. Leave was fairly generous and a few of us spent
a lot of time traveling around Melbourne by tram.
One incident
that sticks in my mind is when five of us stayed overnight at
the YMCA, Melbourne. When we woke up in the morning we didn’t
have a pair of pants between us. Some thief had taken the
lot. I was lucky enough to find a pair in a trash can that
did not belong to my mates and they were quite a good fit.
As I was the only one with pants, I had to ring the stores officer
at the depot and explain our predicament. He was sympathetic
and sent four pairs to us by cab that waited to take us back.
I wasn’t keen on Melbourne after that. It wasn’t until many
years later that I grew to like the place.
Word had passed
around the depot that we were to embark the next day, and all
communication with the outside world was to be cut and all leave
cancelled. I remember my first sight of the ship.
It seemed enormous and a lot more that we expected. She
was the USS West Point about 40,000 tons and formerly the liner
USS America. Her complement was US Navy and marines.
We were billeted
on the after promenade deck, really comfortable and not crowded.
Our first day at sea saw me assigned to the mess deck to assist
serving dinner. I had to serve from a large vat, a
sloppy mixture of mincemeat and asparagus. The smell and
the heaving deck soon had me perspiring and dry in the mouth.
I soon got permission to get some fresh air and only this saved
me from being seasick for the first time in my life.
Our first port
of call was Auckland to ship some New Zealand aircrew. Some
of who were my good friends throughout training in Canada.
The trip to
San Frisco lasted six weeks. Nothing to do except play cards,
swim in the pool, with an occasional submarine watch. Except
for the occasion when the ship fired two star shells at night
and we thought we had been torpedoed, nothing exciting happened.
I doubt if we saw another ship during the whole trip.
Prior to disembarking
at San Francisco, we were told that our issue blankets were to
be rolled and carried from the ship. Most of us objected
to carting these damned things around the world and one brave
soul tossed his over the side onto the wharf soon to be followed
by a deluge of blankets. I often wondered what the Yanks
did with hundreds of RAAF blankets.
We saw very
little of ‘Frisco. Just some of the bay and what we could
see from the back of a truck while we were being transported to
catch our train. It was now January and quite cold as we
were dressed in summer gear.
The train was
something else indeed. A genuine Pullman Coach greeted us.
Plush seating, Negro attendants, and white linen service in the
dining car. Remembering our Aussie trains this was luxury.
I had a rude awakening much later catching an Australian troop
train.
The meals were
fabulous. Turkey, Chicken, Ham etc. but proving much too
rich for us after shipboard fare. We all had various degrees
of stomach upset and it was a long wait at the W.C. We had
a several hours stop-over at Vancouver which enabled us to do
some sight seeing. I was very impressed with the beauty
of the city and have always wanted to return. From Vancouver
to a staging camp at Edmonton, Alberta. Most of us had dug
our warm uniforms from our kit bags, but some had not bothered.
On leaving the train at Edmonton all were lined up at the station
and addressed by a fur coated Canadian Air Force Sergeant.
His first words to us were “Gentlemen, please observe the formation
of the snow crystal”. As a slight blizzard was blowing,
we could not have given a dam about a snow crystal. We were
freezing and all wanted shelter. The RCAF Sgt. was mercifully
brief and in spite of our misery, we were impressed with his attitude
and politeness. A definite contrast to some of our Airmen
Leagues. I found that the emphasis on discipline in the
RCAF was very different to ours. With very few exceptions
the NCO’s and officers were courteous and friendly. My stay
at Edmonton is now blurred as it was not a very impressive place
and too cold to do very much. I have now forgotten how my
stay was, but I remember it was very forgettable.
At last I received
a posting to No. 7 Bombing and Gunnery School, Paulson, Manitoba.
The township of Paulson was very small and apart from a small
café serving a very good apple pie and ice cream and disgusting
coffee, there was nothing else to see. Fortunately, most of my
friends from Bradfield Park were on the same posting.
Now I would
be flying and it was here that I had my first flight in an aircraft,
actually my first flight ever. It was a familiarization
flight in a very doubtful Avro Anson powered by two very oily
Cheetah motors. However, it was a real thrill to take to
the air, that is, it was until the pilot ordered me to wind up
the wheels. There was a crank near the pilot’s seat, which
needed about 600 turns to get the wheels up. Exhausted by
then I was starting to enjoy the flight when I realized that it
was going to take the same number of turns to get them down again.
In spite of
the cold I enjoyed Paulson, the practical work in the air put
meaning into my job. Recreation was limited, but a few of
us had our own ice skates and a rink could be quickly set up in
the freezing weather.
By this time
we had graduated from Ansons to a more modern aircraft the “Bolingbroke”,
a twin engine plane with front and mid-upper turrets. This
aircraft was really the obsolete British “Blenheim” a light medium
bomber. In mid-February ’40 we commenced our bombing exercises.
Despite sub-zero temperatures most of the time these exercises
were very interesting and of short duration, two hours being the
longest. Gunnery exercises were a different matter.
Sitting in the mid-upper turret without heating and semi exposed
to temperatures to –40 to –60 F. The first few times firing
the guns was exciting; occasionally I would shoot at a pack of
wolves, without any visible effect.
I had a slight
touch of frostbite once when one of the guns jammed. It
was a No. 1 stoppage, which meant re-cocking the gun, but with
three layers of gloves it was an impossible task. Removing
the gloves from my right hand, I pulled back the cocking lever
leaving patches of skin on it. On landing the tips of my
fingers had gone dead white which meant they were frostbitten.
Recovery is extremely painful.
I do remember
helping to clean snow off the runways in –60 F. Either shoveling
it or spreading course salt on the snow from the back of a truck.
We completed
the course at Paulson at the end of April when the snow had thawed.
It was beautiful flying over endless pine forests and hundreds
of small lakes.
The next posting
was to No. 1 Air Observers School, Malton, Ontario. Malton
was only a few miles outside Toronto and a very large base.
Lancasters were built and assembled there and also quite a number
of USAF Fortresses landed there from time to time.
The weather
now was perfect and so hot that we could freshen up our suntan.
Most of this course consisted of navigation and aerial photography
practical exercises.
The most memorable
part of the course was our visits to the city of Toronto.
We always stayed at the Royal York Hotel, known to the air force
as the only brothel in the world with eight lifts. We were
so innocent then that if a girl or girls knocked on the door of
our bedroom, we answered like stunned mullets. They usually
went away laughing.
It was during
one of our visits to town that through a services association,
I met the Faircloughs. Mr. Fairclough was an ex-fighter
pilot of World War 1, with numerous decorations. His daughter
Mary later introduced me to the very gorgeous French Canadian
Gwen de Mont.
It was unfortunate
that my time with Gwen was only too short. There was a mutual
attraction and we corresponded during and after the war, meeting
only once again.
Mid June our
course finished and a graduation ceremony was held. We were
paraded on the parade ground and as each name was called had to
march up to a podium to be presented with our Brevet. In
my case the observers badge (“The Flying O”). It was a proud
moment, especially in front of all our girlfriends. Now
we felt we were fully-fledged airmen and what’s more, Sergeants.
This was the beginning of the end of our very pleasant stay in
Canada and all we could look forward to was the business end of
our training. Canada is a beautiful country and Canadians
a warm and friendly people. It was with reluctance we said
goodbye to our friends, especially hard to say so to Gwen.
We were granted
two weeks embarkation leave and four of us decided to spend it
in the USA. Some time was spent in New York, but in the
main for some reason Washington DC. A wonderful leave after
meeting Jerry, a beautiful blond Texan. She was working
in a Government Department and showed us all the sights of the
capital. It was very hot like Sydney in January and a lot
of evenings we spent on the banks of the Potomac River listening
to an unusual orchestra playing on a floating barge. On
one occasion two women cruising around in a Packard ‘coupe’ picked
up two of us. One was an artist and took us up to her studio
for drinks. After that to dinner at a restaurant, a dinner
they paid for, and then to the other girls home. They were
married with husbands overseas and I could kick myself now to
think we didn’t know what they wanted.
Another time
I met a waitress in a café, who was a New Zealander. She
took me back to her flat in some obscure part of Washington.
I remember climbing stairs on a wooden walkway that seemed to
go on for miles over roofs. Once again I was too naïve to
understand.
All good things
come to an end and it was time for me to report back to Toronto.
In no time we arrived back in New York to embark on the “Queen
Elizabeth”. I remember that while boarding one American
marine said to his mate “Christ aren’t they young and all bloody
Sergeants too”.
The “Queen Elizabeth”
was more like a city than a ship and with l6, 000 troops on board,
a prime target for the German Navy. We sailed without an
escort as the ship was too fast for a submarine and most other
naval vessels. Her armament was equivalent to a cruiser
and, after experiencing gunnery practice one day, she seemed as
if she could hold her own in any fight. We were fortunate
to still be together; friends who had joined up at the same time.
Eighteen of us occupied what would have been a single room cabin.
It was crowded, but in comparison with American troops who had
to sleep in shifts, luxurious. Duties on board were light
with submarine watches included. These watches could be
miserable, if the weather was rough, stuck out on the flying bridge
and soaked with spray. On a fine day they were quite enjoyable.
Meal times were
breakfast from 6am to 9am and after three hours, lines started
forming for dinner lasting until all had been fed. We were
fortunate that a friend, Bill Hancock, knew an assistant cook
and we were able to supplement our two meals with bits and pieces
from the kitchens. We spent most of the time in our cabin,
as it was too crowded on the promenade decks. During heavy
seas the decks were almost empty except for a few hardy souls
who had a need for fresh air. I have never seen seas as
big as we experienced, before or since. Enormous waves towering
high above the ship seeming to crash on us at any moment.
The “Elizabeth” rode them all fairly comfortably.
We did not realise
it at the time that this was an historic trip. The ship
carried the most number of troops ever carried and also we passed
the “Queen Mary” at sea. This was the first time that these
two great ships had crossed paths. I can’t remember the
duration of the trip, but I think it was about a week. Eventually
we disembarked in Scotland. Then by troop train to Brighton
in the south of England. The RAAF had taken over the “Grand
Hotel” and all the Australian aircrew were billeted there while
awaiting a posting. In other words, it was really a staging
camp.
I did not drink
then except for a glass or two of beer, nor did I smoke.
However, unfortunately, I had purchased several cartons of cigarettes
as we had heard in Canada that they were in short supply.
We now found that cigarettes were fairly easy to obtain and I
started smoking to use up my cartons.
Brighton was
extremely interesting, a peacetime holiday resort, with hundreds
of pubs. The area was full of history, and I made several
trips to Hastings, trying to recapture the atmosphere of 1066.
Some experiences
still stick in my mind. The time when in Sherry’s Bar a
British soldier machined gunned his girl friend and her new boy
friend at the bar. After everyone had scattered for their
lives, we later found that he had killed them both.
Another time
while four of us were walking along the street, some girls invited
us in for a drink. Naturally we obliged and I headed for
a really cute little blonde. We stayed there until mid-night
cementing our relationships. I took my blonde out several
times until one of the other girls told a friend she was 14 years
of age. This was the end of our relationship, I never saw
her again.
After about
a fortnight in Brighton, we were told we were to be trained as
Air Bombers or more familiarly as known throughout the service,
as Bombaimers. We were posted to No. 9 Advanced Flying Unit,
Penshos, Wales. Penshos is in North Wales near Angelesey.
It was summer and it was a very beautiful area, although the locals
spoke Welsh and appeared to be not too friendly. The village
itself was very small with a couple of pubs and a great bakery,
which sold terrific cakes. We made good use of the bakery
as we were starving most of the time.
This was our
first experience of RAF messing and a pretty rude shock to the
system. Our meals seemed to consist of cheese three times
a day with an occasional sawdust sausage thrown in. Terrible
meals, but it made us realise what the English had to put up with
during the war. As a result, we spent most of our spare
time stuffing ourselves with cakes from the village. We
tried to make friends with some of the better looking girls in
the pub, but their parents soon put an end to any likely relationship.
Apart from the fact they spoke perfect English, they would speak
Welsh amongst themselves, which was quite off putting. The
only girls we got along with were some lasses holidaying from
Liverpool. One of them carried on a correspondence with
me until later on when she received no reply.
We did startle
the natives when we went surfing in the Irish Sea. Quite
a good surf was running and large enough waves for body surfing.
The beach as usual was all stones and care had to be taken to
drop off a wave before reaching shallow water. It was entirely
new to the locals and they turned out in droves to watch, as did
quite a lot of the Englishmen on the station.
Flying duties
were concentrated sometimes flying on three exercises a day.
Quite often we had Polish pilots who were slightly mad.
On navigation exercises over the Irish Sea they loved to fly at
about 50’ above the sea. This was naturally exciting and
dangerous and totally unauthorised. One day while flying
at about 100’ the pilot wanted to use the toilet and asked me
if I could hold the aircraft steady. I told him that I thought
I could and with that he left his seat and told me to take over,
while we were still flying low. I found that flying straight
and level was fairly easy, but it was too low. I pulled
back on the stick and climbed to about 1000’. The pilot
returned screaming bloody murder in Polish. While using
the funnel to relieve himself, he had fallen over as I climbed
and wet the front of his trousers.
With double
summertime we seemed to be going to bed in sunlight most of the
time. I can remember playing cricket at 9 PM in full sun.
A perfect summer. The course finished at the end of August
and this was when a lot of friends and I parted company with my
next posting.
I arrived at
No. 27 Operational Training Unit, Litchfield, Stafforshire early
September,’43. Training was now serious, as it would not
be too long before I was posted to a squadron.
A few days after
arriving, we were told that we would be “crewing up”. This
was a process where pilots selected their own crew from a mass
of aircrew. It was an utterly confusing and embarrassing
business, but at least each aircrew member had his choice as to
whether he would join a crew or not. I was standing around
looking as confused as the others when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
A pilot said “I’ve got a Navigator and Wireless Operator and would
you like to join us”. I said I would and went off to meet
the others. On the way he also recruited two gunners.
This method of forming an aircrew was considered by the air force
to be far better than assigning people to a certain pilot.
For a start you felt proud to be selected by the pilot to become
part of a team.
The crew now consisted of - Tom
Davies (Paddington NSW) Pilot
Mark Edgerley (Adelaide SA) Navigator
Denis Kelly (Ned)
(Cheltenham Vic) Wireless Operator
Myself – Bombaimer
Colin Allen (Nundah
Qld.) Rear Gunner
Jim Kluver
(Townsville Qld) Mid Upper Gunner
The first thing
to do was to get acquainted – so it was off to the canteen for
a few beers. We all got along extremely well and conversation
soon flowed. As a crew we spent all our time together for
the next three months of our training. We all made friends
with other crews, but it was our crew that was important, as we
had to rely on each other for survival.
We were now
flying Wellingtons, an obsolete bomber recently taken off operations.
The first part of our training was “circuits and bumps” to settle
down as a crew and familiarise ourselves with the aircraft.
Bombing and gunnery exercises followed with a mixed bag of results.
Soon we were doing cross-country exercises lasting five hours
or more at this stage in daylight. As there was no second
pilot, Tom decided that I was to learn how to fly. During
these trips I spent quite a lot of time at the controls and, on
the ground in a simulator, the link trainer.
Next we commenced
our night training with the usual “circuits and bumps”.
Just prior to this training we had our first leave in London.
Mark did not accompany us, but the rest of us booked into a hotel
near Piccadilly Circus. I did not drink much then and followed
them from pub to pub drinking orange juice. It wasn’t much
fun at all watching them get full as boots. I picked them
up one afternoon at the Windmill Theatre, a strip show.
They were all full and I sober, so it was a shock when we were
ejected for making too much noise! I then decided that as
they were having all the fun and me none, I would join them.
The next few days passed in a rosy glow.
Night flying
had started in earnest with simulated bombing raids over England
called “Command Bullseyes”. These exercises were of up to
6 ½ hours’ duration and could be dangerous depending on flying
conditions. Some of my friends were killed during these
trips. On the 10th November we took part in a
“Nickle”. This was a trip
to France dropping leaflets for operational experience.
One crew was shot down and another got completely lost over France.
They saw an aerodrome lit up, circled it tapping “Mayday” in Morse.
It proved to be a German fighter base. Somehow they managed
to arrive back.
By now we had
settled down as a crew and were feeling rather experienced.
Practical gunnery and bombing had vastly improved. The course
finished up mid-November and the next project was to be a six
weeks commando and survival course. We were taken to some
base somewhere in the wilds of England. What a miserable
time in a miserable place. It was now approaching winter
and very cold. Hard physical training all day long and nowhere
to go at night, except the canteen. Some of the lectures
on survival in an occupied country were to come in handy later
on.
The survival
part of the course, apart from the lectures, was to be bundled
into the back of a closed truck and dropped in pairs miles from
anywhere, no money and no food. The object was to return
to base without getting caught by police, soldiers and service
police. Some of us were missing for days and, as far as
I can remember, none made it back under their own steam.
We also had
day exercises where we were dropped near a large town. Col
Allen and I were dropped off near a bridge outside some large
village. Experienced in craftiness by now, we carried cash
in our shoes and a bar of chocolate in our blouses. We walked
into the village, without being challenged, although the bridges
were supposed to be guarded. After a nice morning tea we
adjourned to the pub and then when the pub shut at 3 p.m. went
to the local pictures. At the railway station we enquired
how we could get back to our base and then caught the train to
a town nearby. A short walk and we were at the base reporting
back. We were congratulated on our success as all the others
had been caught. It was pure luck and the fact we had cheated
a bit.
Thank God the
course finished and a much fitter crew finally reported to No.
1654 Conversion Unit, Wigsley, Lincolnshire.
What a ghastly
place was Wigsley! It was early February and freezing.
The first view was snow, fog and bare trees. I had been
cold in Canada, but nothing like this. Whereas in Canada
the cold was dry, here with fog like drizzle it seeped into the
bones. Ned and I shared a room with a little pot-bellied
stove and most of our spare time was spent scavenging coal along
the railway line. As the coal was sodden, the only way we
could light a fire was to get the powder out of a very cartridge
and light it. It was a wonder we did not blow the place
up. At one stage Ned finished up with a green face for a
few days when the powder blew back through the top of the stove.
We were now
converting from twin engined aircraft to four engined Stirling
bombers. These looked gigantic after the Wellington.
The Stirling was immensely strong and it proved so when our instructor
bounced three times when landing. The first bounce was about
ten feet and while it gave us confidence in its strength, not
much in our pilots ability to fly it. This aircraft proved
to be troublesome, whether because of its age or some inherent
fault. A number of times a motor would cut out in the air
and we were fearful that one or two would cut out on take off.
As the bomb aimer it was my job to assist the pilot on take off
and when he reached a certain speed he needed both hands on the
control column. I then took over the throttles to reach
full power. Tom did chastise me earlier when I pushed them
forward too fast. He said that it was possible the motors
would cut out and that would have been the end of us.
On one exercise a motor cut out
again and its partner decided to overheat at the same time.
It was necessary to make an emergency landing. Mark plotted
a course to the nearest aerodrome that we could land on.
After a successful landing and interrogation we were taken to
the sergeant’s mess where we were advised a party was in progress.
What a party ! As we were in flying gear and still had a parachute
harness on everyone thought we were operational aircrew who had
made an emergency landing and gave us a marvelous reception.
A very attractive young WAAF grabbed me around the neck and then
burst into tears. Sobbing she said I was the
image of her brother who had been killed. She was also pretty
full, but I didn’t mind. She wouldn’t let me go even when
a couple of the crew tried to pinch her from me. I remember
Ned dancing in flying boots and falling over and unable to get
up from the floor. The new girlfriend eventually passed
out and had to be helped back to her hut by her quite unsteady
friends. In the wee small hours of the morning the party
finally finished and we rolled off to our huts.
There were
a lot of Americans at this base and as we passed their huts we
saw them cart two unconscious girls inside. Dear, dear.
Colin Allen disappeared at this stage and an hilarious search
was made for him. We finally found his clothes spread all
over the parade ground and him in his underpants, sound asleep
in the toilet.
Next
morning after repairs, we took off as shaky as the aircraft.
On full oxygen we got over our hangovers quickly and laughed at
the thought of the mechanics faces when they saw all those tiny
practice bombs on board.
We finished
the course much earlier than the other crews and Tom suggested
to the adjutant that we should go on leave. This offer was
refused, but Tom said he was dammed if the crew were going to
wait for the rest to finish. So we went to London again
on unofficial leave. There was hell to pay when we got back,
but the Commanding Officer took the reasonable view that he was
getting rid of us soon and there was no point taking the matter
further. He did let Tom know what he thought of the attitude
of the Australians.
With our posting
to No. 5 Lancaster Finishing School, Syreston, we were on our
final stage of training. From my logbook this lasted from
April 1st to April 9th, but it seemed much
longer to me. I guess we must have been there a while before
flying commenced.
I have fond
memories of the “Elm Tree” a pub on the opposite side of the Trent
from us. To get across the river the pub provided a launch
with an electric outboard motor. There was a cage around
the boat so that nobody would fall out, especially after a few
hours drinking. I got to know the publican and family quite
well; the daughter was particularly friendly.
My first mode
of transport, a BSA 250cc motor cycle was purchased for 50 pounds
while on the station. Shortly after Ned and I bought a 1928
Morris Minor sedan for 39 pounds. What happened to this
vehicle I can’t remember, but I think Ned sold it to some other
suckers?
The bike was
handy for touring the countryside and while not an exciting machine,
was reasonably reliable.
The other pub
we sometimes frequented was the “Red Bull” about a two-mile walk
from the station. On one occasion Ned rode a bike and at
closing time the rest of us started walking back in a very dense
fog. Ned went flying past on the bike and we heard an almighty
crash to soon find him lying in a ditch. After picking him
up and brushing him off, he set off once again only to find that,
when we got back, he had crashed into the side of a hut at full
speed. He was a lot worse off for the experience.
Our stay at
Syreston was a happy one, but we were apprehensive about the future,
mainly because we wondered how we would measure up as a squadron
crew. All our training had finished and it was now up to
us to survive. Our posting was to 467 Squadron RAAF Waddington.
The station Waddington is situated three miles outside Lincoln
and a permanent RAF base. We left Syreston 20th
April ’44, but due to a transport mix up arrived at a totally
different squadron. After sorting out this problem arrived
at Waddington.
After an introduction
to the C.O. and administration staff and our Squadron Leader,
we were given the job of placing bundles of metal strips, called
“Window” into the aircraft that were flying this night.
Normally a new crew could expect a few days familiarisation before
flying on operations. However, a transport truck pulled
up at the aircraft we were loading and the Flight Lieut. told
us we would be flying that night. We looked at each other in dismay.
God this wasn’t fair, first day on the squadron and on our first
op. We learnt that our pilot was Wing Commander Tait DSO
and 2 Bars, DFC 3 Bars, a real veteran. It was normal procedure
for an experienced pilot to take an inexperienced crew for their
first couple of trips. He was known as a “Screen Pilot”
and assessed performance of pilot and crew. It was bad enough
to be flying, but with a pilot of his experience and God knows
how many tours of operations, was nerve-wracking to say the least.
After our first
briefing we found the target was La Chapelle, a marshalling yard
in Paris. Take off at 2200 hours with a bomb load of 14812
lbs and 1350 gallons of fuel. As we crossed the French coast,
I obtained a pinpoint for the Navigator so he could check his
course. There was some desultory flak, but nothing to speak
of. Shells that seemed to be coming straight for us burst
a long way off. Nearing Paris flak was a lot heavier,
but as yet no fighters. Just prior to the bombing run, W/C
Tait told us through the intercom that the air speed indicator
had packed it in and he decided not to bomb. This was a
disappointment but, as he explained, this was a precision bombing
and he did not want our bombs falling short or overshooting because
they could do untold damage to the civilian population.
It was an anti-climax
to jettison our bomb load in the Channel. So ended our first
trip, fairly uneventful, but at least only 29 more to go.
The next morning
on visiting the Bombing Leaders section to look at the photographs
of the raid, only one stick of bombs had landed outside the marshalling
yard and these landed on buildings occupied by Germans.
No civilian’s lives were lost. Also on the black board was
the good news “NO WAR TONIGHT’. Later on we came to dread
that black board. Everyone out to explore the local pubs
in the village of Waddington. We now felt as though we were
part of the squadron and could speak to the other crews on an
equal footing. At least we thought so, but as time went
by we realised that crews with 1 to 5 trips were regarded with
a friendly scorn.
On 22nd
April there it was again “WAR TONIGHT”. W/C Tait was to
be our pilot and this time our target was in Germany. At
briefing we heard, with some trepidation, we were going to Brunswick
or “Braunsweig”, quite deep into Germany. We had heard all
the stories before about the flak and fighters over German targets
and the chances of getting back in one piece.
As we crossed
the coast of Denmark in company with about 400 other aircraft,
we encountered some flak from the flak ships and other coastal
defences. No effect was noticed except to the inner-man.
As the bombaimer, I had the best view of the crew, a perfect 180
degrees although the front turret restricted the view above somewhat.
I was able to see things that the rest did not know were going
on. I had unfortunately, the best view of incoming flak
and sometimes its better not to know what is going on.
The flight across
Denmark was quiet until we reached Germany. So far I had
no idea just how many searchlights could fit into what seemed
a very small space. A few craft were coned, but for most
of us they seemed to drift away. It was bad for the unfortunates
who were caught as every anti-aircraft gun in the area had a go
at them. I saw my first aircraft shot down in flames and
it brought home the reality of what we were doing. On the
run up to the target I could see that the city was already on
fire bombed by the first wave. It was an awesome sight.
On the final run it was:
“Bomb Aimer to Pilot”
“Bomb doors open”
“On target”
“Left, left steady”
“Right 5 degrees
“Steady, steady”
“Bombs gone”
During this
time the pathfinder master bomber was calling “Bomb the red, Bomb
the red”. This being one of the incandescent markers dropped
on the target by him as an aiming point.
After bombing,
W/C Tait, much to my horror, said he was going down to assess
the raid. We descended to almost low level and circled the
city. It was a pretty ghastly sight at this height, fires
still blazing, whole blocks still blazing and explosions everywhere.
How we escaped I’ll never know, maybe due to his skill, but I
know that for a second trip this was terrifying stuff. We
reached home base without incident, but shaken by the experience.
This is the stuff heroes are made from and Tait certainly was,
but to jeopardise an entire new crew certainly was not.
He did, however, congratulate us on our performance and said we
were proficient enough to go on our own.
I always found
it difficult to sleep after a raid. Arriving back in the
wee small hours of the morning or in daylight all pepped up.
We also took Benzadrine tablets before and that sometimes made
sleep difficult on return. Eyes aching from searching for
fighters also did not help.
For the next
few days we were doing the exercises we were supposed to do before
flying on an operation (op).
28/29-4-1944, St. Medard-en-Jalles:
467
sq sent 13 a/c and 463 sq 14 a/c to join 88 Lancasters of 5 Group
attacking an explosives factory at St. Medard-en-Jalles, near
Bordeaux. Only 26 aircraft bombed the target because of
haze and smoke. The master bomber ordered the remainder
to retain their bombs. No Losses. *LM 440.
On 28th
April we first flew by ourselves. The target Bordeaux was
in the south of France approx. 200 kilometers from the Spanish
border. Crossing the French coast near St. Malo we attracted
some attention from enemy defences, but only light flak.
We flew over Brittany, skirting Rennes, as it was heavily defended,
then over the coast again into the Bay of Biscay.
It was a perfect
moonlight night and flying over the sea, a few miles from the
coast was quite beautiful. Nearing the target Ned received
a message from Head Quarters that we were to circle Lake Gironde
just north of Bordeaux. We finished up circling the lake
for twenty minutes. This was a dangerous business with 600
aircraft doing the same thing, the chances of collision were big
and I saw at least four aircraft burning on the ground.
It seemed that there was some foul up, either Pathfinders had
been shot down, or could not properly identify the precise target.
The upshot was that we were recalled without bombing and again
13,800 lbs. of bombs were dropped into the sea. It was,
of course, too dangerous to land with a full load especially in
the event of a crash landing. The return trip was uneventful,
except we had an emergency landing at Hareford.
29/30-4-1944, St.-Medard-en-Jalles:
467 sq sent 8 a/c and 463 sq 11 a/c to join 68 Lancasters and
5 Mosquitos of 5 Group returning to the explosive factory. They
were successful in a concentrated attack. No losses. LM
440.
29th
April saw us off to Bordeaux again, but as German forces had been
alerted by the previous night, our reception was warmer.
This time we successfully bombed the target and obtained excellent
results. The whole trip took 7 hrs 20 mins and was extremely
tiring as, except for flying over England, we were in action all
of the time. Even over England you could not relax as the
German Air force made a practice of infiltrating the Bomber stream
with fighter intruders and shooting down Bombers when helpless,
while landing. Our fighters were doing the same thing to
them.
1/2-5-1944, Toulouse:
467 sq sent 9 a/c and 463 sq 11 a/c to join 131 Lancasters and
8 Mosquitos of 5 Group attacking an aircraft assembly factory
and an explosive factory at Toulouse. Both targets were
hit. No losses. LM448.
On the 1st
May we were detailed to attack Toulouse again in the south of
France and about 100 kilometers from Spain. The trip was
similar to the two Bordeaux operations, but of 8 hours duration.
I should mention at this stage that as well as the bombs we carried
a photoflash. This was a long aluminum cylinder carried
in a tube mid-aircraft. It was full of an incandescent material
and had the explosive power of a 250lb bomb; also it flashed at
the equivalent of 1 million-candle power. As the bomb release
button was pressed, the photoflash was also released and the camera
timed to run when it exploded. This resulted in a very clear
photograph of the target and enabled the intelligence section
to plot exactly where your bombs landed and indeed if you had
bombed at all. It had been known for crews to release their
load before reaching a heavily defended target and then return
home. This was a very rare happening, but some people lacked
the moral fortitude for combat.
I digress, but
it is important to know how the flash worked as it has a bearing
on one trip we did.
My bombing
results were good and so far, I had all aiming points, that is
all bombs had fallen in the target area. Fifty or sixty
yards short or over doesn’t make much difference when dropping
high explosives.
We had survived
five trips and as it was said after five there was a better chance
of completing a tour of thirty. Air Marshall Harris who
was in change of 5 Group of which our squadron was a member, said
that if a crew completed five trips and bombed on the fifth, they
had paid for their training. Small comfort if you had happened
to get shot down on that one.
3/4-5-1944, Mailly-le-Camp:
467 sq sent 10 a/c and 463 sq 12 a/c to join a 1 and 5 Group
attack with 346 Lancasters and 14 Mosquito markers on the German
military camp near Mailly. The marking was good and the
controller, W/C Chesire, ordered the force to bomb. 1500
tons of bombs were dropped accurately, 114 barrack buildings were
hit, also ammunition dumps, and 37 tanks destroyed: 218 soldiers
KIA, 156 serious injuries. The German report is long and
detailed. The nightfighters from a nearby field arrived
during the bombing and 42 Lancasters were lost: 11.6 % of the
force. 460 Squadron RAAF from Binbrook lost 5 of the 17
Lancasters they dispatched. 467 Squadron lost F/S C. Dickson
and crew; 5 KIA, 1 POW, 1 Evaded.
463 Squadron lost
P/O Fryer and crew; 7 KIA, LM 445.
3rd
May, war again. This time the target was Mailly-le-Camp,
not far from Paris. At briefing we were told that a Panzer
division had camped there and consisted of 20,000 German troops
and tanks. The object was to destroy as many Germans and
their equipment as possible. Most of us had second thoughts
about bombing French targets because of the damage to the French
population. This was different. Now we could really
hurt the enemy and so it was with anticipation and some excitement
that we took off.
After
crossing the coast at 15,000ft, to avoid flak, we gradually descended
to 8000’ approaching the target. Fighter opposition was
fierce, although we were not attacked. Cannon fire from
the fighters was distinctive, like a row of pretty blue lights.
I saw many poor wretches being shot at and on fire. One
of my friends, Stan Jolly, was shot down but survived.
On the
bombing run, I could see lines of burning huts and numerous explosions.
At this stage we were carrying a 4000lb BlockBuster and a mixture
of 1000lb bombs and incendiaries. We were now flying at
5000’ and as the safety height of the BlockBuster was 4000’, any
lower and we could have blown ourselves out of the sky.
As it was, turbulence made the aircraft difficult for the pilot
to control and extremely difficult for the bombaimer to bomb with
accuracy. Fighters and flak were very active on the way
home, but we safely arrived back at the base. The next morning
I anxiously went down to the bombing section to see the photographic
results of my bombing. To my chagrin I had missed out on
an aiming point, bombs were plotted just outside the target area.
I put this down to air turbulence, but some consolation was that
they had landed in a vehicle park.
I heard
from the French that months later they were still recovering bodies
from the debris and that the Panzer division was virtually wiped
out.
6/7-5-1944 Sable-sur-Sarthe:
467 sq sent 12 a/c and 463 sq 11 a/c to join 64 Lancasters
and 4 marker Mosquitos in the 5 Group attack on an ammunition
dump at Sable-sur-Sarthe which was destroyed by what crews described
as one enormous explosion. No aircraft were lost? 729
6th
May after three days bad weather and time spent with the crew
repairing a wretched 1935 Ford 4 cylinder that I had purchased;
Louailles was our next target. For some reason I can’t remember
a thing about this trip or even remember where it is. Obviously
it must have been a milk run, when nothing much happened.
8/9-5-1944 Tours:
467 sq. sent 11 a/c and 463 sq. 11 a/c to join the 5 Group
attack with 58 Lancasters and 6 Mosquitos on the airfield at Lanveoc-Poulmic
near Brest. The attack was accurate and 1 Lancaster lost.
No loss from Waddington,
LL792.
Oh! But the
next one I remember very well. On the 8th May
we attacked Brest, a large German sea base on the tip of Brittany.
The approach to the target was horrific. I had not so far
seen flak like it. There was no way through it that I could
see. Lines of lazily running strings of balls of fire that
crisscrossed the sky ahead of us. For the first time I knew
we were going to get shot down and had the sickening feeling that
I had forgotten my parachute. I reached over to its container
and to my enormous relief, there it was. I put it on immediately
mainly for a quick escape and as I was prone all the time to protect
my chest from shrapnel, which occasionally rattled against the
fuselage.
The flak was
fascinating to watch as it seemed to rise so slowly, but the nearer
it got the faster it came until it passed in a flash. Somehow
the lines of fire seemed to open up to allow a passage through
it. A phenomenon well known to experienced crews. The bombs
landed amongst buildings, which I felt a reward for the fright
we had.
As operational
crew we were entitled to nine days leave every six weeks, extra
food rations and petrol coupons. With relief we could look
forward to no flying and nine days in London.
I loved the
times we spent on leave in London. It really was a fun time.
The “Cheshire Cheese” on Fleet Street was one of our favourites,
but we also visited as many as we could. Every pub had a
piano and a great time was had by all singing around it, especially
after ten or twelve pints. English beer then gave you a
beautiful glow rather than feeling drunk. Leaving the pubs
at closing time meant trying to find your way back to where you
were staying, in a complete blackout. The streets were always
crowded with people, good humouredly bumping into each other.
You sometimes were lucky to bump into a soft body, grab it, a
quick kiss and on your way. It could also be the other way
around. I’m sure the girls loved it too. Occasionally
you found one who was more passionate than others and wouldn’t
let go. It was just a time that will never be repeated.
Breakfast was
usually a bottle of beer and a “wakey-wakey” tablet (Benzadrine)
then a round of pubs until nighttime. While it may seem
as though we drank too much, it was the only way to forget what
we were doing. Even the most temperate became drinkers before
too long. Really a non-drinking crew very rarely seemed
to survive for too long. It has been said that most Air
Force personnel who were charged with LMF (Lack of Moral Fibre)
were non-drinkers. Fortunately LMF was rare.
Our leave was
over now and back to war. We arrived back at base to find
that we were going to Duisburg on 21st May.
21/22-5-1944 Duisburg
467 sq. sent 16 a/c and 463 15 a/c to join the Main Force attack
on Duisburg with 510 Lancasters and 22 Mosquito markers.
The target was cloud-covered but the Mosquito Oboe sky markers
were effective and the raid successful.
467 sq lost P/O
Harris and crew: 7 KIA
463 sq lost P/O
Pratten and crew: 7 KIA and F/O Archay and crew: 7 KIA.
LM 119
Now Duisburg
is in the notorious Rhur Valley, the industrial heart of Germany
where it was said you could put your wheels down and taxi on the
flak. Duisburg was defended by some 2000 ack ack guns and
the best fighter pilots the German Air Force had. To give
credit where it is due, German night fighters were very efficient
indeed.
After crossing
Denmark we ran a gauntlet of anti-craft fire, but fighters seemed
to be holding off. Several aircraft were lost on the way.
On the approach to the target, which was then on fire, the sky
was a bright orange-red. It was almost as light as daytime
and I could see fighters attacking others, but while the gunfire
was very heavy, I felt confident that we would go through unscathed,
which was the case. However, about forty aircraft were shot down.
This was our ninth trip and still a long way to go.
22/23-5-1944 Brunswick:
467 sq sent 15 a/c and 463 sq 14 a/c in the 5 Group attack
with 225 Lancasters amd 10 Mosquito markers on Brunswick.
The raid was a failure. The weather was predicted clear
over the target, but when the force arrived, it was completely
cloud-covered. The master bomber had radio failure and the
bombing was scattered.
5.5 % of the force
were lost none from 467/463. LM 119
22nd
May saw us on our way to Brunswick once more. The usual
hairy trip through Germany, plenty of fighters, plenty of guns.
This time, however, we ran into a belt of searchlights stretching
from Bremen on the coast to Osnabruk about 100 kilometers long.
A turkey shoot for fighters as the dreaded master light, of blue
colour, suddenly lit up and immediately coned an aircraft.
We managed to get through in one piece and bombed. The return
route fortunately took us away from the searchlights flying up
to the North Sea, avoiding Bremen and Wilhemshaven. The
trip home over the sea was a lot safer than by land. On
this occasion 35 crew failed to return.
We had two days
rest due to weather conditions before flying on practice exercises.
When I say rest, it does not mean we lolled about all day.
There were still practical exercises in escaping from a dummy
fuselage, flying practice in the link trainer and also machine
gun practice and either rifle or revolver practice on the 25-yard
range. It was pretty rotten weather with rain, fog and electrical
storms.
27/28-5-1944, Nantes:
467 sent 17 a/c and 463 sq 14 a/c to join 100 Lancasters and
4 Mosquito markers attacking the rail junction and workshops at
Nantes.
The first 50 bombed so accurately that the master bomber ordered
the remainder of the force to bring their bombs home
No aircraft lost from Waddington
Main force attacked five other targets. Total sorties
for the night were 1,112.
2.5% lost.
LM 119
It wasn’t until
27th May that we were briefed to attack Nantes.
The target was railway marshalling yards once again. When
we took off it was fairly light and an electrical storm was in
progress. It was fascinating to see from 6000’ lightning
strike the ground. I had not realised before the number
of ground strikes during a storm like that. The whole trip
was of six hours duration and proved to be reasonably quiet.
We had now done our 11th op and were entitled to call
ourselves veterans. Actually, we were one of the longest
surviving crews at the time.
Following in quick succession were Cherbourg on the 28th,
target the seaport and on 31st to Saumur.
31/5 – 1-6-1944 Saumur:
467 sq sent 15 a/c and 463 sq 12 a/c to join 82 Lancasters and
4 Mosquitos attacking the railway junction at Saumur, which was
destroyed without loss. Meanwhile Main Force attacked five targets,
railways and radio stations.
Losses
were 1.3 per cent. LM 450
The target over a river. This was not a successful raid
as the river mud absorbed the impact of the bombs. We were
glad to see the end of the 13th trip.
3-4 /6-1944, Ferme-d’Urville
467 sq sent 13a/c and 463 sq 13 a/c in the 96 Lancasters and
4 Pathfinder Mosquitos of 5 Group to the important German signals
station at Ferme-d’Urville.
Three of the Oboe Mosquitos placed their markers perfectly and
the station was destroyed.
No loss from this raid. DV 372
June 3 our target was Ferme-d’Urville on the Pas de Calais.
On this occasion we successfully bombed Flying bomb launching
sites.
5/6-6-1944, St. Pierre-du-Mont:
467 sq sent 14 a/c and 463 sq 14 a/c bombing coastal batteries
at St. Pierre-du-Mont in the Main Force attack with 1,211 aircraft
on batteries at Fontenay, Houlgate, La Pernell, Longues, Maisey,
Merville, Mont Fleury, Pointe-du-Hoc, Outerham, St. Martin-de-Varevilles
and St. Pierre-du-Mont.
At least 5,000 tons of bombs were dropped the greatest tonnage
in one night so far in the war.
F/L L. Hawes of 467 sq carried F/O Lendrum and P/O Morris,
photographers of the RAF Film Unit, and came down to 3,000 ft
below cloud to give them an opportunity to shoot useful film.
In the early hours of 6th June the Allied Armies
landed on five beaches of Normandy. The armies were ashore
before the bombers had returned to their bases at 0700 hours.
No losses from
Waddington.
June 5th
we were detailed to attack Pierre-du-Mont, gun emplacements on
the French coast, forming part of German anti-invasion defences.
We took off at about 0230 hours on 6th and were timed
to arrive over the target at 0515 hours. The weather was
shocking, thick cloud all the way and we began to ice up badly.
The ice was breaking off the wings and hitting the aircraft with
bangs, also my compartment was thick with ice and I had no visibility
at all. It would, under those conditions, be impossible
to bomb. Tom, our pilot, decided to descend below cloud
level into warmer air. At about 4000’ we flew around for
twenty minutes or so until the ice melted.
Immediately
we saw a sight that never will be seen again. Hundreds and
hundreds of ships in an area twenty miles long and seven miles
wide. The invasion of Europe had started.
At this stage
of the trip we were very late and not another aircraft in the
vicinity. I obtained a pinpoint crossing the coast at what
is now known as Omaha beach. Mark plotted a course for the
target which soon appeared, but bomb damage seemed to be light.
It was full daylight and it was a perfect bombing run. I
could see a radar mast still standing and aimed for it.
It was a perfect drop, the bombs forming a line running up to
and through the radar installation. I was unable to assess
the damage but Col, the rear gunner and Mark reported seeing the
mast topple over. That was our contribution to D-Day.
However, there
was still a light glowing on the bombing panel which meant that
one bomb had not dropped. I removed the inspection panel
to the Bomb Bay and saw one 1000lb bomb still remaining.
Jettison bars were activated, but no result. Mark also tried
to release it through an access panel in the body of the aircraft,
but again no result. We opened the bomb doors again and
flew out to sea away from the invasion force. Jinking all
over the sky to get the dammed thing to drop did not work either.
Now this was pretty hairy as we had to land with a bomb on board.
Arriving back at the squadron 30 minutes late, we radioed the
information to alert emergency services. We went into our
usual landing pattern as carefully as possible. On landing
there was a slight thump somewhere aft. The landing had
finally released the bomb that was only retained by the bomb bay
doors. Ground crew had to work gingerly to remove it safely.
6/7-6-1944, Argentan:
467 sq sent 17 a/c and 463 sq 19 a/c to join 1,065 bombers
attacking German positions.
5 Group bombed Argentan without loss. DV 372
The same night
we attacked Argentan in an effort to assist invasion forces by
bombing road junctions, railway yards etc. The object was
to disrupt access by German tanks to the slight bridgehead held
by allied troops. The trip itself was uneventful, but two
in one day was getting a bit much after nearly nine hours flying
over enemy territory.
8/9-6-1944, Rennes:
467 sq sent 14 a/c and 463 sq 15 a/c with 483 bombers attacking
railway yards at six points to prevent
German reinforcements reaching Normandy. 5 Group attacked
the rail junction at Rennes with success.
A 467 sq aircraft flown by P/O H. Parkinson was hit by flak.
The crew attempted a crash landing back at Waddington, but the
aircraft was almost uncontrollable and the landing was heavy.
F/S Mossenson was the only survivor. 6 KIA
F/O Sanders of 463 sq had a tyre blow out on take off, but had
reached just sufficient speed to make a risky take off.
The control tower personnel had a moments worry as the aircraft
barely missed hitting the tower.
617 sq used the 12000lb “Tallboy” bomb for the first time in this
raid on the Saumur tunnel. The raid was prepared in great haste
because a German Panzer unit was expected to move through the
tunnel. 617 dropped the “Tallboys”accurately. One
bomb penetrated the roof of the tunnel, exploding underground
and creating a miniature earthquake that brought down a huge quantity
of rock and soil and blocked the rail. DV 372.
A day’s rest then off to Rennes
on the 8th June. The target was similar, the
disruption of transport communications. On the return to
England we were informed that our base was fogged in and the whole
bomber force was diverted to an aerodrome near the Scottish border
that had fog-dispensing equipment (FIDO). Arriving there
we could see several aircraft burning on the ground and we did
not like the idea of circling in company with about 400 others.
Tom decided that we would fly south and take our chances of finding
a place where fog was clearing. After a mayday call we heard
from our old training base that the fog was lifting and should
be clear enough to land in thirty minutes. Petrol was getting
low as we had used 200 gallons per hour on an average. It
was necessary to land immediately. How Tom brought the aircraft
down I’ll never know as I was about 4’ ahead of him and could
not see anything but dense fog. It was a remarkable landing and
confirmed my faith in his flying ability.
We had now completed our 17th
op and were the longest surviving crew on the 467 sqn. The
others called us the “flak happy” crew. I had a photograph
taken around this time which I later destroyed. It showed
a gaunt figure with a drawn thin face and dark circles under each
eye. The strain showed even though at the time I did not
feel it.
10/11-6-1944, Orleans:
467 sq sent 14 a/c and 463 sq 16 a/c in the 532 bombers attacking
four rail yards.
5 Group concentrated
on Orleans, seriously delaying German supplies.
P/O/ Fletcher
and crew were lost from 463 sq.: 1 KIA, 4 POW, 2 evaded
capture and returned
to base. DV 372.
No rest, as
on the 10th we attacked Orleans. Our target,
railway yards etc. and had to be accurate because this historic
town was not to be damaged. On the bombing run we were attacked
for the first time by two JU 88-night fighters. As they
came into the attack Ned picked them up on radar and called to
the pilot “Corkscrew Starboard”. This was our basic evasive
maneuver. A violent dive to starboard down 500’, a roll
then down 500’, roll and climb 500’, port roll starboard 500’,
all repeated while under attack. We avoided the main attack,
but a loud bang indicated a hit somewhere. Our port inner
motor had been hit and stopped dead. The prop was feathered
and we continued on to bomb. A safe return and on inspection
next day showed that a stray cannon shell had hit it.
12/13-6-1844, Poiziers:
467 sq. sent 16 a/c and 463 sq 16 a/c in the 5 Group attack
on the rail yards at Poiziers, now listed in the RAF history as
one of the most accurate attacks of the series.
Main force meanwhile attacked Amiens/St. Roch, Amiens/Longueau,
Arras, Caen, and Cambrai.
It is interesting to note that, with the exception of Caen,
all these targets were the sites of well known battles of earlier
wars and Caen was soon to be the scene of fierce fighting.
The total effort
for the night was 1,083 sorties. LM 119.
Our next target
was Poiziers on the 12th June. This town was
familiar to me as my father had fought there in the First World
War with the 1st A.I.F. I remember that he told
me there had been 5000 Australian casualties on one day and I
just prayed that I was not going to be another. However,
this was not to be and we had a reasonably quiet trip on return.
14/15-6-1944, Aunay-sur-Odon:
467 sq sent 16 a/c and 463 sq 17 a/c in a hastily prepared
raid in response to a call from the army that there were strong
German positions in front of them at Aunay.
223 aircraft of 5 Group attacked the positions with good markings
and accuracy. The target was completely crushed and thereby
countering the army saying, “What bloody Air Force…..?” when it
had not received the help it wanted.
No aircraft were lost. LM 119
On the 14th
June we were detailed to attack Aunay-sur-Odon. The British
army was to cross the Odon River at this point and it was up to
Bomber Command to destroy the bridge and road junctions on the
approaches. All told it was a pretty quiet trip.
15/16-6-1944, Chatellerault:
467 sq sent 15 a/c and 463 sq sent 16 a/c in the 5 Group attack
on fuel dumps at Chatellerault destroying 8 sites.
Marking by Mosquitos was very detailed and accurate.
No aircraft were lost. LM 119
The next night
we went to Chatellerault somewhere near Orleans and a trip of
6 ½ hours. I can’t remember anything particular about this
target. This was our 21st operation, real veterans
of the squadron.
We received
good news next morning. Our very own aircraft was waiting
for us. Up to this stage we had been flying any spare aircraft
available. We could not wait to get out to our dispersal
area to see it. There it was, brand new and only eleven
hours flying time on the clock. It was totally black and
to us like a new Cadillac. The flight test was perfect and
it had new type propellers that would give a higher ceiling.
On the 18th
we were advised that we would shortly be going on a low-level
raid into Germany and a practice was scheduled for that morning.
This was great; an authorised low-level flight was very rare.
Our ground crew asked if they could go along with us and this
too was authorised. We took off and immediately descended
to ground level after reaching flying speed. This was exciting
stuff and the view from my compartment superb. Flying at
200 mph and at 20 – 30’ was thrilling. As we roared over
the countryside at this height, frightening everybody and everything
in sight, certain incidents stick in the mind. Like the
time we flew over someone ploughing a field. He jumped off
the plough and the horse bolted ruining his once straight lines.
Also flying over a truck carrying hay – most of it was sucked
into the air.
We had so
much fun that on returning to our base, the pilot requested permission
to go around the course again. Permission was granted and
off we set again. I changed places with the rear gunner
so he could have a better view this time. From the rear
turret we seemed to be awfully low. Flying over a town,
I remember seeing chooks rolling along one back yard and a shower
of leaves as we flew over a tree in somebody’s back yard.
Then down into the canal and waving at a train full of people
on the bank above us.
As we flew
over the coast into the wash, I felt that we were too low.
Turning the turret I could see spume being sucked up by the propellers.
Just then Tom said there was a small boat ahead and he was going
to shoot him up. I was just about to tell him that we were
already too low when there was a God almighty bang. We had
hit the water and I could see small pieces of aircraft on the
water, also our port inner prop was bent right back. We
staggered and shuddered into the air again and managed to reach
home. Getting out we inspected the damage. There were
small branches sticking out from our port wing and a few panels
missing from our starboard wing. The motor was wrecked and
our ground crew promising that they would never fly again – at
least with us. As you can imagine there was hell to pay.
Tom was paraded before the Station Commander and there was talk
of a court martial.
19/20-6-1944, Watten:
467 sq sent 14 a/c and 463
sq 15 a/c in a special attack by 5 Group on a large reinforced
concrete flying bomb store at Watten near St. Omer.
617 sq dropped their “Tallboy”
bombs, but visibility was nil and 467/463 squadrons were recalled
without bombing.
F/O D. Demally and crew with
P/O J. Mitchell of 467 sq flying as second pilot were lost.
8 KIA.
The flying bomb attacks
on southern England and London had started six days after the
invasion. The only practical defence was to wreck the launching
sites and storage dumps, but they were well concealed and built
of reinforced concrete. Bomber Command carried out relentless
attacks on the sites whenever the weather permitted. It
was not until the Army overran the area that the menace was cleared.
LM100
June 19th
saw us taking off for Watten in Germany at low-level. Not
quite as low as before and this time flying someone else’s aircraft.
Over the sea was quite beautiful, as visibility was good.
Nearing the target we were recalled without bombing. On
the return flying over a road in Germany which was quite visible,
I could see the lights of a vehicle approaching. I stood
up in the front turret, sighted on the road and pressed the triggers.
The twin machine guns fired and lines of tracers raced along the
road and the vehicle ran into them. A flash of fire and
then we were away into the night. Shortly after and flying
at about 300’, we were attacked by a fighter. A very intrepid
fighter pilot indeed. He disappeared without any effect
on us. The rest of the trip was uneventful except that nearing
the English coast; an aircraft flying along side of us caught
fire. It must have been a Pathfinder as it started to spew
green and yellow fire from underneath. It crashed into the
sea.
21/22-6-1944, Gelsenkirchen:
467 sq sent 17 a/c and 463
sq 17 a/c in the 5 Group attack on the synthetic oil plant at
Gelsenkirchen.
Bomber Command diaries claim
that the attack was on Wesseling nearby, although some aircraft
may have been detailed for Gelsenkirchen. The target was
cloud covered and the 5 Group low level marking could not be used
and no results were observed. British Official History,
Vol. IV, P.323, records there was a 20% loss from the plant.
12.7% of the force were lost.
467 sq lost F/L L. Byrne and
crew 6 KIA, 1 evaded.
463 sq lost F/L E.A.L. Smith
and crew 6 KIA, 1 POW. LM 100
Again into
Germany on the 21st. The target this time Gelsenkirchen
in the Rhur valley. We were not very keen about this as
the weather was lousy and the target heavily defended. By
the time we got there the first two waves of bombers had bombed
and the sky was ablaze with red. On the bombing run the
target was obscured by cloud and I could not locate the markers.
I told Tom we would have to go around again. He did not
like it one bit, but then I was in charge while bombing.
The next run was better and I could see some fire below.
It was a perfect bombing, the incendiaries falling ahead of the
fire, the Cookie (4000 lbs.) on the fire and remaining incendiaries
just over. On turning away I could see another Lancaster
ahead and below flying through the heavy flak. It was incredible,
one moment it was there and the next the sky was empty except
for a small patch of smoke. Although we did not know it
at the time, this was to be our last time over Germany, for which
I thank God. The enemy night fighters were now totally proficient
and death was only a matter of time.
22/23-6-1944, Limoges:
467 sq sent 16 a/c and 463
sq 15 a/c in the 5 Group attack on the rail yards at Limoges.
The target was accurately hit.
No loss from 467/463 squadrons.
LM 101
Flying to Limoges
on the 23rd I remember seeing a Heinkel 111K directly
below us. I tried to get a shot at him, but could not depress
the guns far enough to fire. I told Tom to throttle back
to let him get ahead, but the crafty bugger kept station with
us. It was a German medium bomber that had infiltrated the
stream and no doubt was radioing our course and air speed. Plenty
of fighter activity, but once again we got away scott free.
27/28-6-1944, Vitry:
467 sq sent 16 a/c and
463 sq 14 a/c in the 5 Group attack on the rail yards at Vitry.
Meanwhile, Main Force attacked six flying bomb sites and two rail
yards.
From a total of 1,049 aircraft
0.9% were lost.
463 sq lost F/O Rowe
and crew. All of the crew evaded capture and returned to
Waddington. LM 373
On the 27th
we were detailed to attack marshalling yards and storage depots
at Vitry le Francois. This was a disaster. Apart from
our losses, pathfinder markers had landed in the town. It
was said later that Germans had set a spoof marker near the town.
However, on this occasion we bombed the town and 900 French people
lost their lives. Later on the French asked me if I was
on that raid, but I denied it. It seemed more diplomatic
at the time.
29-6-1944, Beauvoir:
(First daylight attack from
467/463)
467 sq sent 14 a/c and 463
sq 14 a/c to join the 286 Lancasters and 19 marker Mosquitos attacking
two flying bomb sites and a store at Beauvoir in daylight.
467 sq lost F/O G. Edwards
and crew: 3 KIA, 4 POW
Our first
daylight trip was to Beauvoir on the 29th. It
really was a sight to see. Hundreds of aircraft spread all
over the sky – the bomber stream. A lot of people had the
idea that we flew in formation like the Yanks. At night
this was impossible and in daylight we did not have the experience.
When we arrived over the target dense clouds of smoke and dust
concealed it. I bombed what I thought was the centre, only
to find out later I was 3 miles short. A very poor result
for all.
Now on leave.
Instead of going to London this time Col Allen and I decided to
have a trip in the north counties in my Ford. It was an
enjoyable leave staying at small village pubs and private homes.
The Ford gave me all the trouble in the world. A broken
big end had to be repaired and it must have used 40 gallons of
oil. On our return trip we stayed in a very ancient house
in Sherwood Forest in a very picturesque village in the middle
of the forest. It was so old we almost expected to see Robin
Hood and his merry band.
We returned
to the squadron on 11th July to find we would be flying
the next night. We were now nearing the en |