This is a true story of an incident during World War II which was not reported, but was known and although not authenticated cannot be disproved after all these years.

    On the night of 23 June 1944, a small force of bombers from 5 groups were dispatched at about 9pm to attack a large ammunitions dump and armaments arsenal which the Germans had in the precincts of the French town of Limoges, mid south-west of Paris well down towards Toulouse. The night was clear and apart from unwelcome ‘flak’ after crossing the French coast west of Cherbourg Peninsula the trip was comparatively free of trouble. Nevertheless, the aircrews were ever on high alert for night fighters. Flying at 12 000 feet visibility was so good some ground detail could be observed. Pathfinder flares broke out right on time and target indicators (TI’s) in red and green were spot on, and so was the bombing. I remember dropping our bomb load of 12 x 1000lbs, staying straight and level until frame 6B of the F28 camera had turned over — then bomb doors were closed. Just at that instant the whole place blew up! There were terrific explosions and fires in a multiplicity of brilliant colors from pyrotechnics. It was almost as good as Brest at night time with the added colors of ‘flak’ snaking upwards towards us. We watched this scene fascinated for some minutes before heading northwards.
    I was flying a Lancaster ME7O1-JO-F known as “Whoa Bessie” featuring a rampant bovine painted on the side of the aircraft near the pilots position. It was our twenty-fifth ‘OP’ and John Muddle the mid-upper gunner’s twentieth to complete his second tour of duty and be ‘screened’ on landing. About 6000 feet of height had slipped off as we stooged homewards on such a perfect night — no trouble so far when suddenly Muddle yelled, “There’s a train — I must get me a train!” Sure enough there it was puffing steadily along parallel to our flight path. “Nah,” I said. “Let’s go home.” The whole crew chorused, “Aw, come on skipper — let’s get the train!” I replied reluctantly, “Okay, but keep your eyes peeled all around!” 

    I swung Whoa Bessie 180 degrees descending down to about 70 feet and coming up behind and slightly to starboard of the train which was traveling on a stretch on the top of an embankment. We were quite close to the train. I said to the gunners, “Fire when I tell you — and hit the engine only, not the carriages!” As we came up towards level with the engine I gave the order to “Fire!” It was exciting to see tracer bullets from the mid-upper turret’s 2 guns and 4 from the rear turret streak towards the train, go up the embankment to the rails and then hit the engine! “Cease fire!” There was a stream of smoke and steam burst. skywards as the train came to a dead stop! “Hooray!” everyone shouted.
    Having dissipated so much time over the target and now this, a change in flight plan was decided. I could see a fair bit of air activity up ahead so decided to fly west over the coast somewhere south of Brest then head out to sea before heading north-east to England. All very fine, but we flew over an uncharted enemy airfield. Search lights burst on and so did the ‘flak’. Nothing for it but to go down and shoot the place up, as aircraft were taking off. Johnny Muddle, mid-upper and Eric Giersch, rear gunner put the search lights out and shot up the gun emplacements as we flew around then dived down right onto sea level and kept going. Naturally we landed well after the rest of the crews. I swore my crew to absolute secrecy and was very adamant about it as we bombers were not supposed to get up to pranks like this. The interrogating officer was inquisitive about our late arrival, so we did disclose the enemy aerodrome incident! 

    All the crew members maintained there confidentiality, but a few days after the “OP” the Base Commander, Air Commodore Arthur Hesketh button-holed me and asked me to explain our delayed return so I repeated the interrogation information. “That’s strange,” he said. “There’s a report of a heavy bomber (Lancaster) shooting the engine up and ‘they’ are trying to ascertain who was responsible.” “Did you see anything unusual Buck?” “No sir,” I answered straight faced.
    About a week later Air Commodore Hesketh was sitting in the corner of our officers’ mess bar when I strolled in and got myself a beer. “Buck, come sit down here!” Which I did. “Do you remember that train incident last week?” “Yes sir, I recall you mentioning it to me.” Then he told me the sequel to it. “At the psychological moment of the attack the Gestapo were just about to nab 6 escapees who jumped from the train and disappeared into the scrub. The French underground picked them up and hid them! A British submarine picked them up and they are all safely back in this country.” “Isn’t that great sir,” was all I could say.
    After all these years it would be great to discover if any of these survivors are alive and possibly help to authenticate this ‘report’. In this event I would not hesitate to communicate with them, or even come over to UK to meet them. Some of course may even be Australians.

From Ex: 420437
F/Lt Bruce Alexander Buckham DSO, DFC.

Bruce Buckam DSO DFC Missions.

Authors Comment: If any readers know of any of the six(6) escaping persons from that train, Bruce would like to contact them after all these years. Email the Web Master and I will pass on the information to