Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II

[Chugalug2]

DG :-
Dive bombing and our friend DannyWith reference to above re. the Vultee Vengence The paragraph below is taken from an article I read about the "Oslo report", a piece of intelligence covering many important military technical and scientific advances which were in train in Germany, It was dropped off at the British embassy in Norway in 1939.
Quote:
" What would the information on the Ju-88’s dive-bombing capability have meant to a British analyst in 1939? If such an aircraft was to operate as a dive-bomber, the Germans were apparently able to build strong aircraft—but given the reputation of German engineering that could hardly have been in doubt anyway. But the mere mention of “dive-bombing” would have tended to douse the interest of a British analyst nurtured in the catechism of the RAF, for the concept of dive-bombing went against the RAF’s very psychological grain. Pin-point accuracy bombing reeked of a subordinate role of aviation in direct support of the army, and the raison d’être of the RAF was as an independent force on an equal hierarchical footing with the Royal Navy and the British Army. Hence, dive bombing was regarded as anathema in the RAF, so much so that the use of the word itself had been forbidden. Since 1938, it had been decreed (ref. 7) that the only acceptable expression was “losing height bombing”! The psychological make-up (and concern about their career prospects!) of RAF analysts would thus tend to make them regard any reference to this “confounded losing height bombing” as irrelevant."

When I read this piece I immediately thought of our friend Danny. He couldn't understand why the RAF never used dive bombing tactics elsewhere, The answer may lie above.

I suspect this quote was from someone who felt that a separate (or Independent) Air Force was unnecessary and a misuse of resources. Danny himself contended that Dive Bombing, though highly effective, could only succeed under a state of Air Superiority in general or local tactical advantage at the very least (witness Midway, his default example of its tactical success having a strategic effect). He credited his own survival to the total disinterest of the Imperial Army's Air Arm in opposing the Vengeance forays (an Air Arm supposedly established for direct Army support!). As to the "Independent" RAF it was nonetheless used to great effect in tactical support of the Army in the Western Desert campaign and in the Invasion of Western Europe and the subsequent land campaigns, as well as in Burma, and in addition to its Maritime Operations in the Battle of the Atlantic, and of course the Strategic Bombing Campaign itself.

As to "Losing Height Bombing" I've never heard of it before though that doesn't necessarily discredit it. I believe though that the word Stuka is an abbreviation for the German words of a "Falling Fighting Aeroplane". Hardly trips off the tongue does it?

Our detractors continue though unabated, witness the unrelenting output of Mr Max Hastings!

[JAVELINBOY]

A former work colleauge posted on her Facebook page some details of her Great Uncle Flying Officer O G Horrigan who was killed during the war when his Whitley aircraft was shot down over Denmark, her story and that of her Great Uncle and his fellow aircrew and their continued rememberence should be shared with the followers of this remarkable thread.


https://cimg9.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/698x700/fo_o_g_horrigan_raf_23c0a5f521c19770ce28fdc102e77656a910a595 .jpg
FO O G Horrigan
https://cimg4.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/960x539/danish_war_graves_raf_whitley_n1383_4e096f54aaf4ba965825941d 7f159812723c1178.jpg
War Graves Crew of Whitley N1383
https://cimg8.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/960x954/rememberence_stone_denmark_3d39ea63ee452373b732636e7d8953a1d f12c70f.jpg
Rememberence Stone Whitley N1383
5th May was the 75th anniversary of Danish Liberation. This year would have been my third visit to Denmark for the annual ceremony in a little village called Vadum where my Dad's uncle Owen Horrigan is buried, along with the other crew members from the Whitley MkV N1383, which was shot down by flak near Aalborg on 26th April 1940. On 5th May wreaths are laid and the last post is played at a graveside ceremony, and a remembrance service takes place in the beautiful village church opposite. This has taken place every year on Danish Liberation Day since the war ended, although we only found out in the last ten years or so that this happened at all. On our last visit (5 years ago on the 70th anniversary of liberation) we visited the crash site in a nearby farmer's field, for the unveiling of a memorial stone to the crew, along with a number of placards telling the stories of the airmen, and of the one surviving member of the crew, navigator Vincent Herbert Barr, who managed to parachute out and sought refuge in a nearby farmhouse, before becoming a prisoner of war. A local farming museum houses one of the Rolls-Royce Merlin Mk10 engines from my great uncle's plane, alongside an exhibition dedicated to the flight, the crewmen and the excavation of the plane. The other engine is exhibited in the Bangsbo museum in Frederikshavn.

This is a post of humble gratitude, to all the citizens of Vadum, Aalborg and beyond who continue to show such reverence and respect to all those who lost their lives over Danish soil and sea. We recognise how very fortunate we are to know where our loved ones are buried, and that their graves are so lovingly tended. We are grateful also to have so much knowledge about what happened, and see how their stories are kept alive by such compassionate and dedicated folk. We are also very grateful to be able to call many of these people our friends.

A nod of respect too to my Dad, who spent much of the first years of his retirement trying to find and make contact with the families of the other crew members, to let them know what happens in Vadum each year, and to ensure the photographs of all the crew were included in the exhibition and on the information placards at the crash site. During this process he found out that Vincent Barr was still alive, and met with him and his daughters to hear his story. Vincent then met my Grandma for the first time in 2012 at the unveiling of the Bomber Command memorial in Green Park, shortly before he passed away. 5 years ago we met with family members from all the crew, including Vincent's two daughters, for the memorial and celebrations in Vadum and Aalborg.

The graveside ceremony took place this year, along with 5 consecutive church services, with 10 people attending each service. The story of the crash and Vincent Barr's survival was broadcast on Danish television ten days ago, on the 80th anniversary of the crash: c. 10m30s into this link... https://www.tv2nord.dk/arkiv/2020-04-26 (https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.tv2nord.dk%2Farkiv%2F2020-04-26%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR2rkAhkDdOPUBadQz4y3_kp-iLQ0KbS-1POPkZA0QBmRUjPwWVHTrsUyjM&h=AT3lsgXvKggmF5aJRxzYmWNh3C5zZ0Z4wj4pUccxcwdmYUTXkKJUYnJHKS OFQISDrs0ePlSopTCfEjfoOcN3ImurReA42qJu7Kgb3lgqd9mrgS6R0laTD0 NhbaqqIu15dTdsqg8UfLMlJov5q8KlO0GNqizgosU)

There is also a 20 page chapter dedicated to Owen Horrigan and the crew of N1383 in John Hewitt's book 'Ireland's Aviator Heroes of World War II', which includes extracts of letters and flying records providing a real glimpse into life in the RAF, as well as accounts of the events surrounding the crash.

[Fareastdriver]

You can't beat that: As a fairly cynical bastard about remembering isolated events during any war this one softened me somewhat.

[Chugalug2]

Remarkable people the Danes, they managed to get nearly all their Jewish population safely to Sweden while under German occupation :-

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rescue_of_the_Danish_Jews

The Graves do not appear to be marked by CWGC plaques, they did use bronze ones but in a different form (my own Dad's grave is so marked), so would appear to be local. There are more such plaques than for this crew alone, are they all for Allied Airmen I wonder? The care and reverence bestowed on them is palpable and the annual commemoration must be a very moving occasion. Such plots can be found in so many of the occupied nations of Western Europe and the pride and gratitude of those who tend them span the generations. In remembering our fallen they remember their own suffering in those bleak years of occupation and the joy of their liberation. Their example humbles us and reminds us that governments may come and go but true friendship comes from individuals, no matter their nationality.

[goofer3]

John Hemingway, 100, last surviving Battle of Britain pilot;
https://www.irishpost.com/news/irish-second-world-war-veteran-last-surviving-pilot-fought-battle-britain-184916

[pzu]

Just found this piece through FB

https://www.canadahelps.org/en/charities/columbia-valley-food-bank/campaign/Jim-Ashworth-Walk/?fbclid=IwAR3BOomyNThhxwsi3YT7QGOiiXtAE0b8nO9cQt3zrdvUakLNdC 7VQiUcnXA

PZU - Out of Africa (Retired)

[Sandisondaughter]

Found this in Dad's archive. Dad was RegLe contemporary, having trained with him under the Arnold Scheme in Class 42A. Tucked inside the manual is War Dept Circular Letter No. 36-10 dated 25 June 1936 on the subject of aircraft spins. Thought it may be interesting to those on this thread.
https://cimg0.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1420x2000/war_dept_aircraft_spins_p_1_244faeab5e569565db1c864e9bab1dce 81b244dd.jpg
https://cimg1.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1420x2000/war_dept_aircraft_spins_p_2_517dd793b1e3e3b3d3a757b6710c6820 ed4c348c.jpg
https://cimg2.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1420x2000/war_dept_aircraft_spins_p_3_f9cbdf9e11b6463e3070969c7a56faa2 b958781e.jpg
https://cimg3.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1420x2000/war_dept_aircraft_spins_p_4_e02b51955fa147d4a322493c4044087b ad0ab37c.jpg
https://cimg4.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1420x2000/war_dept_aircraft_spins_p_5_a0b4ddf98f41851ec97802291460b19a 270e11c8.jpg
https://cimg1.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1172x1805/raf_flying_training_manual_e6691852ad4a6018c3cff29233a7d0376 d71e23c.jpg

[Geriaviator]

Great to hear from you again! A reminder of years gone by when this old thread fairly hummed. This spinning article is fascinating so I am going to post a link in the Private Flying forum. My ex-WW2 instructor made me spin from every possible situation and thereby saved my neck on one occasion involving engine failure. I understand spinning is no longer taught on the PPL syllabus, which may be why I have seen distressing reports of witnesses saying that they saw the aircraft turn steeply, then dive into the ground. Best wishes!

[MPN11]

I remember my PPL ... on Piper Colt, which effectively did not spin. We had to do a 30 min trip in a Chipmunk (G-AOFF) to show what a spin really is.

[mikehallam]

Thank you for posting the Pre-War Spinning Instructions.
So much to recall from my early days and to be happy to know that their technique was what we too were instructed to use.

Spinning was still on the syllabus & taught at Shoreham in 1970 on the Cessna 150, though some folk said most of the time it was really a spiral dive & not the real thing !
I bravely did one solo before the GFT, but that was it !
Now nearing 83 & still flying my Rans from a field in SE UK, I'm grateful for having had that slightly stricter Classic PPL training.

Nowadays, the LAA light 'plane "Annual" schedule and inspection sign off requires a "Test Flight" at near AUMW. This is simply 1000 ft climb rate, a bit of handling, VNE and stalls.
I have to say a surprising number of pilots (?) quail at even doing either Stalls or VNE; seemingly frightened that their skills aren't up to it, or that a 50 year old plane might shed its wings. Even the MAUW requirement is cavilled at.
I hesitate to think, after a cheated or unfulfilled Test Flight has been signed off by the owner & they obtain a new Permit to Fly, that they then happily proceed to fly fully loaded with the wife of girl friend on board. It makes a nonsense of the whole thing - luckily the original a/c design and manufacture margins usually provide these budding Darwin Candidates some protection.

I think by contrast military training and its regime always was a thorough & essentially fulfilling course, conveying skills I envy.

The pages of this forum continue to be a tribute to the generation before me who were embroiled in WW II by relating their experiences.

[Geriaviator]

Really interesting thread here (https://www.pprune.org/private-flying/633419-spinning-advice-1936-a.html) on the Private Flying forum arising from Sandisondaughter's spinning notes.

[Sandisondaughter]

Some photos from June 1941, Class 42-A of the Arnold Scheme. My father is in the cockpit of what I assume to be a Vultee at Darr Aero Tech. He has no parachute strapped on, so I imagine this is the first time he had been in the cockpit and is simply posing for the photo? Note the sunburned nose - he came from Shetland and found the heat almost intolerable in Georgia!
https://cimg4.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/849x484/pupil_s_seat_c0791c774a7d911b3cc5b00cf0a42131f23aff9c.jpg
https://cimg6.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/874x554/lt_teeter_a62a8ac8458b8117ae0948c291910013e50e6b6e.jpg
https://cimg7.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/909x552/lt_teeter_and_bert_o_shaugnessy_980b7d604ff2cef73fbdd2b05d7b 354ce5c5caee.jpg
Lt. Teeter was his first instructor and Bert O'Shaugnessy a fellow class 42A member.

[Geriaviator]

Great photos SandiD, our dear old pal Danny would have loved to see them! Thank you for posting, there's still a few of us old bumblers still around :)

[Keeffro]

Ormeside,

Would you have come across Dennis (another of the many nicknamed "Danny") Gilbert in the Glider Regiment? He was also RAF. He trained on Catalinas in Pensacola.

At the Rhine Crossing he piloted a glider carrying an Ox and Bucks HQ, thought I don't know if it was Battalion or a Company HQ. His son Barry is my brother-in-law.

I contributed the little I know of his wartime experiences to this thread many moons ago, but wouldn't have a clue how to link to the posts.

[andyl999]

Some photos from June 1941, Class 42-A of the Arnold Scheme. My father is in the cockpit of what I assume to be a Vultee at Darr Aero Tech. He has no parachute strapped on, so I imagine this is the first time he had been in the cockpit and is simply posing for the photo? Note the sunburned nose - he came from Shetland and found the heat almost intolerable in Georgia!
https://cimg4.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/849x484/pupil_s_seat_c0791c774a7d911b3cc5b00cf0a42131f23aff9c.jpg
https://cimg6.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/874x554/lt_teeter_a62a8ac8458b8117ae0948c291910013e50e6b6e.jpg
https://cimg7.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/909x552/lt_teeter_and_bert_o_shaugnessy_980b7d604ff2cef73fbdd2b05d7b 354ce5c5caee.jpg
Lt. Teeter was his first instructor and Bert O'Shaugnessy a fellow class 42A member.

The pictures of the aircraft underneath are off Texan (Harvard in the UK), You may notice that they have retractable undercarriage, whereas the Vultee has a fixed undercarriage.

If you look earlier in this forum you will find Reg Levy and my Uncle Vernon who where also in class 42A. Reg incidentally didn't like the Vultee which he cited shook and vibrated, they were removed from training at some time later.

I've just noticed that all the photos from Reg Levy's posts have suffered from Photobucket disease, when I get the time I will edit them and re-host them on another server.

Andy

[Geriaviator]

Reg incidentally didn't like the Vultee which he cited shook and vibrated
Our late lamented pal Danny42C said that they called it the Vultee Vibrator, and with good reason!

[Chugalug2]

Sandison daughter, great pictures of your dad, his instructor, fellow student, and their Vultee BT-13 Valiant basic trainers. As Geriaviator states, it didn't impress Danny much, I'm afraid! Thank you for getting this venerable thread moving again.

The notes on spinning are typical of the bumf that service pilots amass from start to finish of their careers. Spinning recovery, long seen as a necessary part of the instructional syllabus, brought with it its own inherent risks and limitations. In my own training it excluded certain instructional aircraft. For instance, while still at school and attending my Air Cadet Flying Scholarship training at the Wiltshire School of Flying (Thruxton), we were taught on the Thruxton Jackaroo, a Tiger Moth (invariably ex RAF ones of course) converted from its two open cockpit layout to a supposedly 4 seater enclosed cabin one. It flew accordingly and was deemed non-aerobatic, so the spinning part of the PPL syllabus was done on a real Tiger Moth. The Air Cadets organisation provided for this by supplying all the paraphernalia so typically detailed by Danny. Unfortunately HQ Air Cadets were far more on the ball than Danny's own storemen, so no chance of retaining the fur lined boots as he did, nor indeed any of the flying kit at all. As an RAF trainee I was instructed on the JP3 and 4. Both were aerobatic but I seem to recall that the tip tanks on the JP3 had to be empty for aeros, including spinning. Can my contemporaries confirm?

BTW, wanting to reread Danny's description of his own flying clothing issues, I started re-reading his posts. Needless to say I am still doing so (page 228 and counting!). His technique of a descriptive passage followed by a Q&A exchange, then another passage (always followed with that idiosyncratic signing off with a well known phrase or saying) is a winner, and all of course in his wonderful use of the English language, if that isn't too much of a slur on his Irish ancestry! Of course, Dickens made his fortune writing in such instalments, though we now read him from continuous script. As with Dickens, in my view Danny's writing is even more enjoyable read on the fly as it were. So what was searching for a detail has become an indulgence of re-discovering the entire whole. :ok:

I commend this thought to the house (Outbreak of hear, hears. Rustling of order papers. Prolonged rustling of order papers, etc....)

[Keeffro]

As this thread drifted a bit off course in one direction, I drifted in another, and for a while I wasn't checking in here as regularly, as religiously as I used to in the early years.

With the onset of the Covid crisis, I often thought of Danny, and wondered if he was still with us and safely cocooned. So I started reading it again, but picking up exactly at the carefully-noted spot where I had left off. As a result I have been able to enjoy his and others' contributions "as live" for the last couple of months. As Chugalug points out, Danny was indeed a born serial narrator, always leaving us craving the next episode. While I can't say I was surprised, it was still with great sadness that I reached the point where he looked out beyond the clouds, quietly got up and vacated his venerated crewroom seat for the last time. If we didn't get to say a proper goodbye, we can be sure that he - while modestly denying it - was touched by the deep affection that was so often expressed here.

What a loss, and what a wonderful character. As we say in the island a bit to the left of Liverpool where his people came from, his likes will not be seen again. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam dílis.

[GlobalNav]

I just finished reading the two books written by Danny and was sorry there wasn’t more. What a cool guy, great story teller, he could turn a phrase and apply the Latin perfectly. Wish I could have shared a pint of ale or cuppa tea with him. Humble, self-deprecating, knowledgeable, humorous. A true gentleman and of course a true example of the greatest generation.

[eko4me]

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam dílis.

What a beautiful saying - and in Danny's case, how apt. Thank you.

[Sandisondaughter]

The pictures of the aircraft underneath are off Texan (Harvard in the UK), You may notice that they have retractable undercarriage, whereas the Vultee has a fixed undercarriage.

If you look earlier in this forum you will find Reg Levy and my Uncle Vernon who where also in class 42A. Reg incidentally didn't like the Vultee which he cited shook and vibrated, they were removed from training at some time later.

I've just noticed that all the photos from Reg Levy's posts have suffered from Photobucket disease, when I get the time I will edit them and re-host them on another server.

Andy
Here's a list of all those who graduated in class 42-A at Turner Field, including Reg Levy and my father, together with the programme. Reg and your uncle were probably together for primary training and separated for some reason for advanced flying training. Reg and Dad met up again at Arnold Scheme reunions in later years and Dad followed this thread until he died aged 96 in 2016, although he didn't contribute. What was your uncle's surname and was he at Darr Aero Tech for his primary training?

With regard to the Vultee, Dad said in a letter in June 1941 at Primary training "In the mornings we work in the Ground School – Maths, Navigation, Engines etc, and it is all very interesting. In the afternoons we fly, and that is lovely. It is so cool and refreshing up above and I always feel sorry after the flight is over. My instructor is an awfully nice chap, and gives me complete confidence in him and the plane. The planes are very nice; they can fly by themselves and are extremely safe. I flew a plane today for the first time, and was extremely surprised to find how easy it was."

A month later (mid-July when he had just turned 21) he wrote "By the way I soloed on Thursday. In case you don’t understand, it means that I took the plane up and landed it again all by myself. I had supervised solos again on Friday and Saturday. That means going round and round landing and taking off while your instructor stands down below and watches you, checking faults etc. Tomorrow I shall be able to get my own plane and leave the aerodrome and fly around practising the various manoeuvers which we are taught. When I went up the first time, I was surprised to find myself not in the least nervous, and I went round and made a good landing. It’s nice being up alone; there’s nobody to swear at you!! and knowing that you’ve got to rely on yourself you fly very much better and with more ease. It’s also very nice to feel that you’re capable of doing it.

On 6th August he wrote "I’m still doing alright (touch wood!) and have almost finished the Primary Training. To date I have a total of 45 hours, about 23 of which are solo. To finish this course we each must have a total of 60 hours. We are due to knock off next Tuesday, and hope to go on to Basic at the end of the week. At Basic School you fly bigger, better, and faster planes, and you do night flying, instrument flying, and also formation flying; the course is much more interesting and lasts ten weeks, during which time you have to do about 100 hours flying. I started aerobatics yesterday – loops, snap rolls, slow rolls, flying upside down etc. It’s good fun but it shakes you up a bit to begin with. It’s really surprising what things you can do in a plane.

I still find it very hard to imagine my father flying upside down!
https://cimg4.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1039x1708/graduation_programme_front_6ec72b1633418977a3f87cf4b4ed71edc c4bc588.jpg

https://cimg5.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1420x2000/graduation_programme_list_05f8ffd2b86fd4651e7008197f64aa2cdb 78afd1.jpg

[Sandisondaughter]

Instead of leaving the U.S. for Britain after gaining his Pilot's wings, Dad was selected to stay on in Georgia to train as a flying instructor and then to train new batches of RAF cadets in the first half of 1942. (He subsequently went on to fly Lancs in Bomber Command.) I thought readers of this thread might be interested in the following publication which was issued as part of his instructor training.
https://cimg1.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1449x1882/front_cover_710d516f321e6ce29a6d0b109e8eccd367addeb8.jpg
https://cimg3.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1446x1858/p1_e4659add7fe0b4fbf47408b5187018059f9c0c0c.jpg
https://cimg5.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1454x1762/p2_7446376e69c670c170ed9412fee112f98a961dcb.jpg
https://cimg7.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1379x1818/p3_8be392461614e2a0fa7f84c7d633dbc6abe701c0.jpg
https://cimg9.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1381x1873/p4_b56f4766e28638fbbfdb8f0b00622376e6385e21.jpg
https://cimg2.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1427x1873/p5_822b6d26d00516a1bdf2e2db29cd641ea2aa4e31.jpg
https://cimg5.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1405x1759/p6_80cb09164ce6ef48fb33c9fe67080ebb91bb07b4.jpg

[Geriaviator]

Another absolute gem, thank you! The lessons so painstakingly condensed into this booklet are just as valuable 80 years later ...

[Icare9]

Met Danny once at his flat, enjoyable even though apparent that he was having issues.
Attended his funeral and briefly afterwards, but too choked to do much as others had much more personal interactions than I.
Glad I knew him, not just as a cyber friend, but as a person.
They don't make 'em like that anymore....

[Chugalug2]

Sandisondaughter, thank you for posting your Dad's excellent AMP 121 'Hints on Flying Instruction' which he was issued as a 'Creamy' in 1942. Whether CFS was still issuing such excellent advice to RAF Flying Instructors in the early 60s I have no idea, but if so it wasn't in the bedtime reading of my Jet Provost instructor. The son of a then notable RAF Very Senior Officer, he had little patience for my repeated errors and showed his dissatisfaction in no uncertain manner. My progress faltered and came to a grinding halt. I was in retrospect the subject of review for a possible chop. What was decided on my behalf was for a change of instructor. The new one was older with a row of medal ribbons, a Master Pilot and thus not a Commissioned but a Warrant Officer. His avuncular, patient, and encouraging manner was everything that his predecessor was not. He explained away the switch by briefly saying that there had been a 'Personality Clash' which was no-one's fault and a change of Instructor was invariably the solution. It certainly was in my case. My confidence returned, my progress recommenced, and he soon sent me solo. I still have the solo certificate, bearing his signature, framed on my study wall. An unofficial one of course, it is a cartoon of a parent crow kicking its startled fledgling out of the family nest, and thus far more treasured than any ponderously official one would be (there wasn't one, anyway).

Icare9, you have the advantage over many of us in having personally known Danny and in attending his funeral. It is good that the PPRuNe Community was represented there by a few of its own, for this thread had knitted us all into a family with Danny at its head. What I would say though is that his personality transcended this media to the extent that we all felt we knew him as a friend. Despite the repeated intransigence of his obdurate laptop he mastered the arcane mysteries of the internet, even illustrating his witty posts with pictures. Like any good performer nothing was allowed to get between him and his ardent audience. They don't indeed make 'em like that anymore!

[Geriaviator]

The story of a 16-year-old WW2 bomber pilot has been mentioned on this thread, but the Daily Drone website has kindly allowed me to run it in full. The Drone is run by retired Express journalists, and the high-flying schoolboy was found working in their midst …

Even though the war had been over for 30 years, Boy’s Own Paper tales of military derring-do were still the staple features diet of Sunday Express readers in the Seventies. Each week the heroics of gimlet-eyed submariners, devil-may-care Spitfire pilots and grim-faced Commandos were played out on double page spreads accompanied by finely detailed, brilliantly drawn illustrations.

So when, in his third-floor Fleet Street bunker, Editor John Junor heard the tale of the schoolboy who became the youngest pilot in the RAF, the command rang out: Buy up this man! Thus, the elite special forces of the Sunday Express scoured the country for the young hero whose name was Dobney. And scoured. And scoured.

Just when the frustrated news hounds were dreading having to confess their failure and having to justify their exes, a modest, self-effacing deputy art editor walked the 20 yards from his desk at the Daily Express overlooking Great Ancoats Street in Manchester to the office of the Sunday’s Northern Editor, Howard Bygrave, on the same floor. “I understand you’ve been looking for me”, he said. “I’m Tom Dobney.”

And 1197690 Sgt Pilot Dobney, T. had a fascinating tale to tell. He determined to become a flier while following the Battle of Britain when he was a 14-year-old pupil at King Edward VI Grammar School in Nuneaton, Warwickshire. He turned up at a recruiting office for a dare and thought he might as well complete the enlistment forms. And why not add four years to his age?

Two weeks later he was accepted for pilot training as long as he passed a medical and a selection board at a church hall in Coventry. One squadron leader on the interviewing panel was obviously suspicious.

“How old are you, lad?” he asked. “Eighteen,” replied Tom. “Really? Where’s your birth certificate?” “I sent it in, sir. You must have it.” The officer rummaged through some papers then, embarrassed that he might have mislaid the vital document, he shook Tom by the hand and said: “Welcome to the RAF.”

The elation of Aircraftman Second Class Dobney, aged 14 years, three months, was short-lived: he still had to break it to his mother. She would be left alone having split up from his father.

Years later, Tom recalled: “I simply bullied her into agreeing. She didn’t like it but I argued and sulked until she threw up her hands and gave in. So far as she was concerned I was joining up as ground crew. If she had known that I was going as a pilot she would definitely have put her foot down and stopped me.”

In October, 1940 Mrs Dobney put her young son on the train to RAF Cardington, near Bedford, giving him half a crown to buy sweets for the journey.

Six days past his 15th birthday Tom went solo in a Tiger Moth after 12 hours' dual at Staverton, Gloucestershire. He was sent to training school in Medicine Hat, Canada where he was awarded his wings when he was still 15, returning to England for advanced training on Blenheims.

https://cimg1.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/980x469/whitley_abingdon_aef2b3113e1fff92241b60383ba2278ce35a0ca6.jp g


Then he was posted to 10 OTU at Abingdon, where he completed 20 sorties over enemy territory in twin-engined Whitley bombers crewed by airmen all older than himself. The OTU sorties were often leaflet dropping, but they were also used to make up numbers on bombing raids. It was said that the crews were quite happy with their young pilot until his estranged father spotted his picture in a newspaper shaking hands with King George VI who was on a tour of East Anglia air bases. A furious Mr D contacted the Air Ministry and demanded how his son could be introduced to the King as a veteran bomber pilot when he was only 15?

Tom was discharged immediately. He was given a letter to confirm that the only reason was his age and the RAF promised to take him back when he was old enough. So Tom worked in a Coventry aero engines factory and, as soon as he could, he joined the Air Transport Auxiliary. By 1943 he was an instructor on Oxfords at Snitterfield, a satellite for Church Lawford.

Alas, it wasn’t long before he was seriously injured in a crash following engine failure on take-off , and by the time he was fit again the war was all but over.

After the conflict ended he flew Avro Yorks on the Berlin Airlift, served on the King’s Flight where he met the King once again, and became an RAF air traffic controller. After a spell in the Metropolitan Police he joined the Daily Express art desk in Manchester (as you do) and took early retirement in 1986.

Express Northern news Editor Stan Blenkinsop said at the time: ‘He was such a quiet, modest man and never talked about his wartime experiences. I used to sit a few yards away from him and think: how on earth did he do all that?’

At the end of war Tom was refused his campaign medals because it was decreed that he had earned them illegally. His mother wrote to Winston Churchill who intervened. They were awarded with a fulsome apology.

Tom, who, had six children from three marriages, died in 2001. His achievement is still in Guinness World Records.

[Chugalug2]

You have to wonder at the ease with which boys were accepted into the armed forces in WW's I and II by simply lying about their age. Even in those days there was an abundance of records other than the paper Birth Certificates, which obviously were not presented when required. By simply demanding details of place and date of birth the local Registrar could have confirmed or denied the claim. Admittedly it would have to be done via the Royal Mail, but it wasn't snail mail in those days and delivery was often the following day (sometimes sooner!). Could it be that HMG was content to make up the numbers in this way? If it were not so, the RAF had plenty of time to discover that Cobley was under age long before he got airborne for the first time, let alone go on Ops. With all the RAF record keeping involved, re training, jabs, postings, promotions, etc, etc, all of which would be authorised and confirmed, how come the most basic detail of all, ie dob, was simply taken on trust?

If his father had not seen the picture of his son and the King in the press, would it have ever come to light? If he'd remained serving continuously he could have smashed all records, making Gibson appear an old man as a Wg Cdr....

[mikehallam]

Thanks Geriaviator,

For re-invigorating this precious section and it turns out to have been a real event, not just bar gossip.

mike.

[Dan Gerous]

[QUOTE=Geriaviator;10864280]
...giving him half a crown to buy sweets for the journey.
[/QUOTE

Well that was a jaw dropping moment, reading that line.

[Bill Macgillivray]

Half a crown!! Would have bought more than sweets in those days! However, this is a great tale and, although I have heard, and known, of many others, (including my own brother!) who lied about their age this must be the best one! Well done, Sir!

Bill

[mikehallam]

Bill, Please tell us the tale.

[johnfairr]

Some of you will have read bits of this before (A Spitfire Pilot) in this thread when I transcribed my fathers’ memories and started to drip feed them in this thread. A couple of years ago my brother wrote down his own thoughts on his career in the RAF, drawing parallels to those of our fathers’ experiences. At the same time I rediscovered over a hundred of his letters to our mother between 1939 t0 1945. Sadly neither parent had the opportunity to re-read their words and so my brother intertwined these letters giving a whole new light to the events of 75+ years ago.

Encouraged to have them printed by Pen & Sword, the result is a fascinating and insightful record of what it was really like to be a fighter pilot then and again in the 60s onwards.

“Fighters in the Blood” is the result and I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as we both did.

[dogle]

Pursuant to our late CO’s brilliant metaphor .... long have I lurked in the nether regions of our ‘virtual crewroom’, just cleaning up the ‘tea swindle’ mugs but with ears always a-flapping (twixt now ever-more-frequent sorties to the ablutions) to pick up the wonderful conversation from around the stove.

... the stove has gone cold now, it seems, and I gaze with sadness upon the battered armchair next to it, now empty and perhaps never again to be occupied. If Danny - God bless him! - be gazing down upon us ‘from a great height’ now, I fear he might be most displeased to see this “best of all threads” left to wither on the vine.

That must not be! This thread is a unique, and absolutely irreplaceable, record of history-as-it-happened. Can any of our crew with sharper technical skills than mine see a way to preserve it for posterity, whatever may happen to PPrune in the future . ... perhaps as a contribution to the Imperial War Museum database?

That sombre stuff said, I don’t think we’re quite done yet!

- We’ve had some truly spendid contributions from the descendants of former WW II pilots who are no longer with us, and I hope that more such may emerge if this thread may continue for longer.

- I for one - to my shame - have a number of queries etc. on which I should have posted much earlier and didn’t, but which may still help to keep this thread alive long enough for more valuable contributions to emerge if I so do now ... I suspect that I am not alone in this respect! ... what do you think, folks? Can we keep this show on the road a little longer?

[andyl999]

Hi, I'm sorry to hear that your Father passed away, although 96 is a good number.

I've only just got a notification that you had replied to one of my postings, apologies.

I have not been up here after Reg "flew off" and I was starting to hit dead ends with my Uncle's research. I was trying to find out why my Uncle only completed Primary training at Darr Aero then appeared in Terrell in Texas to join BFTS1 to complete his training. I even went to Albany and the archives in Montgomery Airbase (that was another story where they in the entrance did not want me to enter the site to go to the archive!) and could find no records of him, apparently there was a fire at Darr Aero and the training records all got burnt.

As my previous postings said he completed his training and got posted to 64 Squadron as a Spitfire pilot then onto 154 Squadron where he got posted to North Africa where he was shot down by German "predictive flak" at the age of 20.

BTW his name was Sgt LVC Brooker, he had married my Mothers sister hence the connection.

Hope this helps? Regards Andy

[Geriaviator]

https://cimg6.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/860x398/berryaubac12sqn_07de2368b39bbd40c40776c224ae1877b21e13f6.jpg

Alas, Dogle, this thread lost its vital spark when our honorary CO departed on his final posting, much as I enjoy the posts of his late comrades' successors. We have been assured by the Mods that this thread is a priceless record of aviation history by those who were there, and will be preserved for as long as Prune exists.

As to the IWM, don't hold your breath; they showed total disinterest in Danny's book about a forgotten Air Force supporting a forgotten Army in a forgotten theatre of war. Nothing personal – they were just as disinterested in my father's photographs of Fairey Battle operations in France, 1940. Of course they haven't room for everything.

However, we won't forget our valiant posters and anyone who hasn't read In with a Vengeance and Danny in the Cold War should send me their email address via PM and I'll send them the books with a request for a donation to the RAF Benevolent Fund. With hundreds of copies despatched over the past couple of years, as Danny said the Fund must think it's their birthday!

There is also Reg Levy's excellent account published as Night Flak to Hijack.

Best wishes to everyone who shared the halcyon years of this fascinating thread.

[mikehallam]

Thank you for livening this 'thread' up again and nice to see you ' younger' fellows are still keen on staying involved.

I'm afraid I've no derring tales to relate.
My National Service - after 'Square bashing' at RF Bridgenorth, then RAF Locking [No.1 Radio & Radar School] was spent on RADAR units in Cyprus, It was 1959-60 &" Peace Time" !

[Sandisondaughter]

Thank you Andy - I can't find any mention of Sgt Brooker in Dad's records, sadly.

[Ddraig Goch]

Hi and a Happy New Year ( it will be when covid is sorted out) to all the wonderful members of this thread.

OK I've just finished reading a book which Danny would have found interesting. I think I remember him saying that he couldn't understand the RAF's attitude towards dive bombing. Well (and I hope this hasn't been discussed before) the book is: "The history of Dive Bombing" by Peter C. Smith. The basic idea it covers vis a vis the upper echelons of the RAF is their desire not to be too involved, at the time, in dive bombing because they saw themselves as upholders of strategic bombing ideology ( Trenchard and Douhet ) not Army cooperation. There is more about the history of dive bombing from the start in 1911 to 2007 and is very informative.

I found this book very good, it can be found here at the longest river also other quality book sellers. For those with a kindle £0.82 !
https://www.amazon.co.uk/History-Dive-Bombing-Comprehensive-Onward/dp/1844155927/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2UFYDYUL45746&dchild=1&keywords=a+history+of+dive+bombing&qid=1609489971&sprefix=History+of+Dive+Bombing%2Caps%2C230&sr=8-1

[Chugalug2]

DG, I wish you and all who follow this very special thread a Happy New Year too, and thank you for drawing attention to this follow up to Peter C Smith's 'Vengeance'. Danny treasured his copy of that authoritative tome and made sure that it would be safe in the hands of someone who would safeguard it in the future. I'm not sure he would approve of the front cover of this history, given that the aircraft (which is presumably in the process of dive bombing some hapless target) is not diving from the vertical. He was even somewhat dismissive of the infamous Stuka which delivered its bomb from some 70-80 degrees, hence inducing a throw-forward which had to be accommodated for in the aiming (ie short). Danny's Vengeance had a zero angle of incidence (hence the ungainly nose high attitude when in straight and level flight). The attack would thus be from the vertical, from immediately above the target. There was no tendency for the nose to rise thanks to the zero incidence and he simply kept his sight on the target down to the release altitude. The bomb then carried on maintaining the aircraft's trajectory, while the aircraft itself was pulled out of its dive, often inducing blackout, and usually at treetop height. By going into the dive on different headings, his 'box' would end up like a Red Arrows star burst when flying away from the target, thus confusing the A/A gunners. All this did not apply to the Mk4 which had a positive incidence and hence flew more conventionally, but thus less effectively as a dive-bomber. As the RAF employed them for target-tugs it mattered little.

Your point about Strategic v Tactical bombing is well made and illustrated by the vast numbers of long range heavy bombers based in England and the cascading of unwanted types such as the Vengeance and Hurricane to overseas battle fields, where they did stalwart service. The concept of the Corporation Dust-Cart syndrome is a well trodden path in the RAF. I flew the Handley Page Hastings, with wings and systems from the wartime Halifax, and generally seen as obsolete in the 60's when it equipped my squadron. It could still outrange and outhaul its 'replacement'. Just as Danny treasured his memories of his dust-cart, so did I of mine.

The kindle version of the History of Dive Bombing is a bargain and duly grabbed. Thanks for the heads up!

[MPN11]

Looks like £0.82 well spent! And ... downloaded!


Edit @ 10 Feb. Finally got round to reading it, and a most excellent dissertation.

[Buntybunny]

First time I've seen this, looked darn good, was just getting into it! Surprised to see Cliff was 98 when he wrote that entry in his blog, 2008! I would have loved to have read more. RIP Cliff, one of our many great hero who fought for his country in he war!

[Gapa]

Mt Dad was Tadeusz Turek and both my brothers were in that ATC unit.

[OLD FAT GEEZER]

I have yet to read all of this excellent thread - came across it when researching 6BFTS and am delighted that I did so. I am no pilot (colour blind, so my ambition from age dot to 17 was stymied!), but my father in law was. Until recently, all we knew was that he did some training in Canada, had the 'caterpillar award' and was an instructor during the war (he quite vehemently protested the fact that he was not in combat). His wartime diaries were very recently discovered and it turns out he was on course 11 at 6BFTS. If you have read either Tom Kiilibrew's or Paula Denson's books, my father in law was the 'Gordon' referred to in the extract from Alan Watson's diary entry for Christmas day 1942. I am transcribing the diaries, which is taking a hell of a time due to Gordon's appalling writing. I do hope this thread is retained. Many thanks to all who have contributed.

[Geriaviator]

Hello OFG, welcome to the best-read thread on Prune before our contributors one by one made their last takeoffs for higher service. The Mods very kindly made this a permanent record of so much aviation history, beginning 14 years ago with Cliff's starter post on Lancasters: "So full power, wheels up, flap in by five, and 2850 plus 9. We are away."

As you will see we have enjoyed countless stories about basic training both here and abroad, hair-raising tales such as Reg's Halifax acquiring a bomb-shaped hole right through its fuselage from friends above, and teach yourself dive-bombing as related by Flt Lt Dennis O'Leary, the much loved Danny 42C who began posting in 2012. It was my pleasure to edit his memories into two e-books, In with a Vengeance dealing with his training in Florida and operating the Vultee Vengeance in Burma, and Danny and the Cold War, detailing post-war flying on Spitfire, Meteor and Venom, then ATC before demob and closing career as a VAT inspector.

In accordance with his last wishes, I'm glad to send copies to anyone interested in exchange for donations made direct to the RAF Benevolent Fund, we suggest £10 per book. Please PM me, Geriaviator, with your email address as we can't send attachments via Prune.

Regards to any old-timers still on frequency ...

[Fargo Boyle]

I don't know if it's already been linked on here, but someone on the Key Aero forum posted this link to wartime archive footage of 84 Squadron, including shots of Vengeances, as well as Mustangs and Hurricanes in India and Burma

F26539 | Collections - Catalogue - Catalogue Item | Ngā Taonga Sound & Vision (ngataonga.org.nz) (https://www.ngataonga.org.nz/collections/catalogue/catalogue-item?record_id=76388)

[MPN11]

A lovely find, but sadly my feed leads to a stop at about 22 minutes in.

Oh, that Danny 42c was here to give us a supporting narrative. Indeed, is he featured?

[Chugalug2]

I don't know if it's already been linked on here, but someone on the Key Aero forum posted this link to wartime archive footage of 84 Squadron, including shots of Vengeances, as well as Mustangs and Hurricanes in India and Burma

F26539 | Collections - Catalogue - Catalogue Item | Ngā Taonga Sound & Vision (ngataonga.org.nz) (https://www.ngataonga.org.nz/collections/catalogue/catalogue-item?record_id=76388)

Wow, what a find FB! As MPN11 says, what a shame that Danny is no longer with us to comment. While his Vengeance Squadrons were 110, 82, and 8 (IAF), this video is of No 84 Sqn. Nonetheless, Danny would recognise many of those portrayed, and have much to say about the aircraft, Ground and Air Crews, the various locations, and of course the operational scenes. I don't remember him mentioning US Mustang escorts, though there were the occasional Hurricane ones. Most often his 'box' were on their own, as was Danny when he was confronted by an Oscar and lived tell the tale!

Thanks for this video, FB. A reminder of a forgotten campaign by a forgotten army! The shear size of the Vengeance is apparent when being serviced (or used as a prop for group photographs). A deadly weapon in the right hands, and mercifully they were!

[Union Jack]

In respectful and fond memory of Flight Lieutenant Dennis O'Leary, who contributed so outstandingly and so knowledgeably to this great thread for six years, whose 101st birthday it would have been on 10 November and the fourth anniversary of his final flight is today, Remembrance Sunday.

Gone yet not forgotten.

Jack

[MPN11]

Well said, sir. Danny's birthday was in my diary, and I failed to mention it.

RIP, old chum ... and the countless multitudes who were victims of war and old age.

[Chugalug2]

Indeed, well said, Sir. Only yesterday I was recommending this very special thread to a young 86 year old, and recommending in particular Danny's extensive contribution to it (starting at Post #2262 , Page 114, 31Jan2012, a mere 6th of the way into its present length!). His wit, polite good humour, and amazing recall were what made his unique story all the more enjoyable and informative.

Thanks for the heads up UJ. We all miss him so much, don't we?

[Pali]

Last Czech WW2 RAF fighter pilot, gen. Emil Boček passed away yesterday. He celebrated 100th birthday in February.


https://cimg0.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/930x520/e_20b_20o_c5_99_c3_adznuto_1_aa865d7275baf365a1a9d3905498da1 ee43c4fa5.jpg

Video from 2016 when he flew Spitfire again at Biggin Hill:

UhxFoH4JQ7w&si=EnSIkaIECMiOmarE

[Geriaviator]

Blue skies, sir. May we never forget the sacrifice of the Czech and all other aircrew as the Few remaining take to the skies for the last time. Thank you for posting, Pali.

[Chugalug2]

Pali, war is a terrible thing but some things are worse than war, and war is often the only means of overcoming them. Thus it was with WWII which drew together from all over the world those who fought for freedom from tyranny. Such was Emil, to whom the world and this country in particular owes so much. In my time we still had many Czechs and Poles in the RAF. They had fought for us and alongside us in WWII, staying on to serve through the Cold War. The tragedy visited on their countries by Nazi and Communist regimes alike has been lifted, only to once again be threatened by yet another European war. The sufferings of the countries of eastern Europe remind us all of the high cost of freedom. It can never be taken for granted, requires constant vigilance and ensuring the means to fight for it again if necessary. For that reason alone we must never forget the likes of Emil Boček.

Thank you for your service.

RIP, Sir.

[Union Jack]

Good to see so many other tributes online https://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=Emil+Bocek&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8

Modrá obloha, Pane!

Jack

[Alan Growns]

My Dad is Master Navigator John Lennard. Back in July I posted an item on my father’s service history including his navigator training between 1946 and 1948. Coodashooda asked if Dad could provide more information about his flying training.

During the war he was a teenager living in the Suffolk coastal village of Hollesley (not far from RAF Bawdsey and RAF Woodbridge). He was a member of the local ATC Squadron.On a regular basis he cycled the 13 miles over to RAF Martlesham Heath and scrounged flights in the Ansons based at the airfield. It was during these flights he noticed that the Navigators appeared to be busy all the time and he decided that is what he wanted to become when he joined the RAF.

In early 1946, aged 17, he attended the aircrew selection centre at RAF Hornchurch for two days of tests. Out of approximately 150 applicants, he and three others were the only ones to be selected for Pilot, Navigator and Bomb aimer training. He selected Navigator as his first choice. He accepted the King’s shilling and joined the RAF Volunteer Reserve. As an ATC Cadet he was able to wear a white flash in his forage cap indicating he had been seleted for aircrew training. In June 1946 he was called up for the “duration of the present emergency”. He was kitted out at RAF Padgate and did his square bashing at RAF Wilmslow.He was then posted to RAF Ibsley and RAF Sopley, prior to commencing his flying training. During his time at Sopley he was instructed on the use of Radar which was to prove useful later.

In April 1947, he was posted to No 1 Air Navigation School RAF Topcliffe to join the No 1 All Through Course, the first post war Navigators course to be held, at the time Navigators were still being trained using the one year wartime syllabus.The new course were to be nearly two years long, the training at Topcliffewas to be 18 months in length, 6 months ground school, 6 monthsbasic flying in Ansons followed by 6 months flying Wellingtons. The average length of a training flight in an Anson was about three hours with the maximum time being about 4 hours.The average length of a Wellington Flight was about 4 hours with the longest flight being over 6 hours.The flying phase totalled about 250 hours. The aircraft used were not training marks of the aircraft or even converted but war weary early marks. The Anson’s turret had been removed but the void was just covered in canvas.During take-off and landing in the Wellingtons the crew had to assume crash positions. My father’s position was braced behind the main spar. Nearly all the training flights were around the north and midlands of England although one trip was to Northern Ireland but without landing. His pay for an Aircrew cadet was 4 shillings a day rising to 6 shillings when he started flying. After successfully completing the course he was awarded his navigator brevet and given the rank of Nav IV. His pay rose to 10/6 a day.

In September 1948 he was posted to RAF Swinderby for the advanced Nav course, still on Wellingtons. This is where all the aircrew trades were to come together and form crews but the pilots and signallers all through courses had been postponed and had been replaced by wartime trainees. His pilot at Swinderby was a Polish Flight Sergeant called Jurczyczysn. They did a ground loop on their first take off from Swinderby. In January 1949 he was posted to the Coastal Command OCU at RAF Kinloss for a course on Lancaster ASR 3s. In April 1949 he was promoted in Nav 111.

On September 1st 1950 the aircrew ranks were abandoned and he was promoted to Sgt on 22/6 a day. Dad continued flying until 1970 and retired from the RAF in 1983.
Just read where 'poco' Growns was mentioned. Sadly Dad ('poco') Gerry Growns m/nav passed away 15 years ago. Would love to have heard some of his memories.

[Tim00]

If it's not appropriate here, I'll delete it, but here's a photo of the 1948 Topcliffe staff, my father in the 2nd row.
https://cimg7.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/2000x1563/1948_topcliffe_f31008fa6d9d462c64c1677c1fc20bcd95f64ba8.jpeg
1948 Topcliffe staff

[Ian Burgess-Barber]

Now look, some pictures have been found, I know that it is very late in the day, but I hope that it is appropriate to post them on this "sticky" which I regard as a 'journal of record' for future readers.

I told the story of my late father gaining his R.A.F. Pilot’s Brevet
in WW2 (at No.5 B.F.T.S. Clewiston Florida USA) in this wondrous
thread, between pages 291 - 298, and my late mother, who was one of
the first female Fleet Air Arm Aircraft Engine Mechanics was also
remembered in various of my other posts back in 2014.

https://cimg2.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/2000x1493/photo_4_1__80e5c80d25cb52c027c51b6f54a60f8388862490.jpg
https://cimg0.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/2000x1449/229_comm_flight_feb_1945_5458e04d437dbf9547712161a007d559da5 33917.jpg

The two photos from my father’s career show him :

With one of his Expediters at Palam, Delhi when with 229 Group Comm
Flight 1944. Dad on right of shot.
If I was quite a bit younger, I would be tempted to say “My dad’s Twin
Beech is shinier than your Dad’s, so there!

—————————————
The Comm Flight Group Photo at Palam 1945.
Now, as my Dad was the only pilot in the Flight who had trained in the
USA, do you think that he might be the bloke with the Ray Bans?

My sincere thanks to Mr. Andrew Gemmell for this (to me) priceless photograph.

----------------------------------------
Mother in service WW2 :

Just turned 18 years old my W.R.N.S. mum was trained on the second
ever course for female Air Mechs (Engines) at HMS Fledgling, Mill
Meece Staffs. 1943.


Mother (head in front of Starboard air intake of a Barracuda) with her
motley crew of fettlers and menders of 747 Squadron R.N.A.S. 1944/45.
Photo is either at HMS OWL, Fearn, Highland, Scotland, or at HMS
URLEY. (now Ronaldsway Airport Isle of Man)



https://cimg3.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1635x977/mum2_67a609952b9c8278571ac0d3355f22005f092acd.jpg


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

PS.
My father logged 1,170 hours as an R.A.F. pilot (in service Nov. 1942
- Dec. 1947). His seemingly uneventful wartime service was in India
(March 1944 - Nov. 1945), mostly with 229 Group Comm Flight. He also
ferried a/c for 21 F.C. Mauripur and finished his Indian service with
232 Squadron. Post-War he served with 16 F.U. and later 1 F.U. mainly
flying surplus R.A.F. aircraft to other air forces. Ferrying gave him
the opportunity to fly diverse a/c. He flew 13 types as 1st Pilot and
a further 4 types as 2nd Pilot.
*Or 5 types as 2nd Pilot if you count the ghastly C-87 as sufficiently different from the B-24 that it was spawned from.

Ian BB. Quick Reply

[Union Jack]

Well done, I B-B - great photographs of interesting aircraft and a fine-looking body of men and women. Danny would have been delighted by both, and your post is very timely since it would have been Danny's 102nd birthday a week today!:ok:

Jack

[Ian Burgess-Barber]

Thank you Jack, I must confess that Danny's assessment, (such was his influence) was indeed in my thoughts while I considered if it was worth resparking the thread after so much time has passed. I am heartened by your opinion and I will see if any more of my recently discovered cache of pictures are of interest to this readership.

IanBB

[MPN11]

Thanks IB-B … and Danny’s birthday is still in my diary with an annual reminder.

Interesting to note at least 2 former Pathfinders on that 1948 Staff photo. I guess they knew the job better than most!

[Ian Burgess-Barber]

Thank you MPN11, good to see that you are still on frequency, and I hope that your Jersey abode did not suffer too much in storm Ciaran (sorry can't find the 'fada' symbol to put over the second letter 'a').

Disclaimer: The 1948 Topcliffe Staff photo is not one of mine. Pace Tim00.

Ian BB

[Ian Burgess-Barber]

Thank you MPN11, good to see that you are still on frequency, and I hope that your Jersey abode did not suffer too much in storm Ciaran (sorry can't find the 'fada' symbol to put over the second letter 'a').

Disclaimer: The 1948 Topcliffe Staff photo is not one of mine. Pace Tim00.

Ian BB
https://cimg8.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/2000x1504/img_20231106_153510_1_2_min_1__b6896b361ee4f02dc4b276ad52f40 4afa19b0277.jpg
This time of the year is always a sombre, emotive occasion for the millions of us who remember our departed veterans. It is also, in terms of this great thread, the anniversary of Danny 42C, who would have been 102 years old yesterday were he still with us. Over the years many contributors to this unique record of WW2 military aviation matters have listed the qualities that he regularly gifted to all us readers. I concur with all the eulogies, but I also remember his great (sometimes wicked) sense of humour.
With this in mind I hope that he would have been amused by this photo.
His Vultee Vengeance was very similar in size to the Fairey Barracuda Dive Bomber of the Fleet Air Arm, (or 'The Air Branch' as the Sea Lords would have it). Both were 39ft. 9ins. long, VV had 48ft. span, the Barra. a little more, at 49ft 2ins.
So, if he had ever wondered (as you do) how many Matelots would it take to dress either aircraft for a group picture, then the answer is here. By my count, 44 A.B.Sailors are required. (Starboard wing has one more chap than the port wing, hence slight tilt of the aircraft.

Photo taken June 1945 Ronaldsway I.O.M. is of 747 Squadron R.N.A.S. with one of their Barracudas providing support.
My late WRNS mother is 2nd female from left, front row

Ian BB

[MPN11]

Bless them all, the long and the short and the tall … and bless Danny too. Hope he had a great birthday up there.

[Geriaviator]

THIS old crewroom is cold and damp, its Crittal metal windows are corroding, the single-skin brickwork has more damp patches than dry, alas many of its occupants have made their final takeoffs. But to celebrate the New Year, let’s stoke up the old stove until its cast-iron chimney goes red, pull up the old chairs, and gather round for a tale which surely deserves an honoured place in this immortal ‘Brevet’ thread.

When my father was posted from India to Binbrook in 1948 the young Australians of 460 Sqn were still fondly remembered by the villagers. The young men who survived had flown their Lancasters home to rebuild their own air force, and were replaced by the Lincolns of 9, 12, 101 and 617 Sqns. While the gallant deeds of these squadrons were well known, even as a youngster I noticed that people in the closely-knit RAF community spoke of 101 Sqn almost in hushed tones.

The squadron had been based 1943-45 at Ludford Magna only four miles away and had, we were told, flown the most sorties and had the highest casualty rate in Bomber Command. Nobody could explain why, and some put it down to inexperience, some to bad luck, some to finger trouble. It was long after the war until the nation learned about the top secret electronic battles that raged high in the night skies over Germany.

The 40-plus Lancaster aircraft of 101 Sqn carried eight men instead of seven, the eighth being a Special Operator whose task was to block and disrupt enemy radio communications with powerful transmitters to broadcast a variety of jamming tones and even give false instructions to German night fighters. The Special spoke fluent German and nobody mentioned his role in the aircraft, even the pilot, and he did not appear in crew photographs. Many served under a changed identity, especially if they had Jewish-sounding names.

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B for Baker of 101 Sqn releases a 4000lb cookie blast bomb and hundreds of incendiaries over Duisberg, 1944. Note the jammer transmitter aerials between cockpit and mid-upper turret.

Each aircraft carried six tons of bombs as well as half a ton of extra equipment, plus three long transmitter aerials to create extra drag. The squadron proved so effective that they flew on most major raids after 1943. Each aircraft was spaced along the bomber stream for maximum disruption, and obviously their high-powered transmitters turned every 101 Sqn Lancaster into an electronic lighthouse for the German pilots, who soon learned to pick them off. Until recently I had read very little from the crews until I encountered a totally gripping account written 80 years ago by Pilot Officer Ronald Homes.

He describes the banalities of daily life one moment, then the formal exchanges of his sortie, course changes, fuel states and so on, mixed with moments of sheer terror:

“What a strange noise… WE’VE BEEN HIT! A brilliant yellow-orange light fills the cockpit. “Starboard outer’s on fire skipper” shouts the engineer, “There’s a bloody great flame going past the tailplane” shouts the mid upper. “OK chaps, settle down. Pilot to engineer, feather the starboard outer and push the fire extinguisher”. “OK skip ... Fire’s still burning skip” ... “****! ... What the hell is happening engineer? “Starboard inner’s feathered skipper!” “So has the bloody port inner, I’ve only one engine left!”

And more besides, it’s like being aboard the Lancaster listening to the intercom. P/Off Homes’s superbly told story has appeared elsewhere, but I can’t find any trace of his post-war career among the broken links and unanswered emails. So I acknowledge all sources for his account which I propose to post over the next couple of weeks.

May it form a fitting tribute to the 1,176 airmen of 101 Sqn who never returned to base.

[Chugalug2]

Excellent post Geriaviator! I sense Danny trying to say so too, but once again the PPRuNe dog is chewing up his post as he attempts to churn it out of his trusty but ancient laptop.

I look forward to your following contributions and the discussion they encourage. An inspiration! Well done, Sir!

[Geriaviator]

Pilot Officer Ronald Homes served as a pilot from October 1940 to August 1946. His operational flying included Lancasters on 101 Squadron in Europe and Dakotas on 238 Squadron in India and Burma, then in Australia and the South Pacific, and finally 1315 Flight in Iwakuni, Japan. Chocks away, then, as he invites us to join the crew of his Lancaster SR-N2 on a lovely Lincolnshire morning which will lead to ...

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By RONALD HOMES, pilot, 101 Sqn

THE village of Ludford Magna is completely surrounded by the RAF station with the living quarters on one side of the main road which runs through the centre of the little village and the massive aerodrome on the other, the base of 101 Squadron, 1 Group, Bomber Command. Ours is a Special Duties squadron with 42 Lancaster aircraft fitted with “Airborne Cigar,” a highly secret radio countermeasure for disrupting the enemy night fighter radio controllers’ transmissions. Our eighth crew member is the ‘Special’ who operates the sets.

We RAF types feel completely integrated with this rural community, with the slow steady pace of the countryside infusing us with a sense of security. On this morning of August 12, 1944, the sun is shining, the weather looks fine and the morning air is heavy with the scent of new-mown hay and life seems very sweet.

With a jolt we awake to reality. Our names are on the operations board for tonight! Aircraft N2 (Nan squared), pilot P/O Homes, navigator F/O Kabbash, flight engineer Sgt Waind, bombaimer Sgt Wade, wireless operator Sgt Davidson, Special Operator Sgt Holway, midupper gunner Sgt Reynolds, rear gunner Sgt Smith.

Oh hell! That means that our own Lancaster L-Love is still unserviceable. We've done our last two ops in N2 and we don't really like her. You develop a fondness for your own aircraft, it just feels right and although on the face of it all the aircraft appear identical they do feel different and you get the "feel" of your own. Perhaps it's the confident relationship one builds up with your own ground staff, for you know that they are totally conscientious in their work and they are truly a part of your team.

The change of aircraft does nothing to settle that nasty empty sinking feeling in the stomach, and the thoughts of whether you will see this sunshine tomorrow have to be quickly dismissed. Don't think like that! Think of something else! Anything, but don’t show your fear. Right! Let's get the crew together and cycle out to the aircraft and give it a flight check.

All the crew must check over their equipment to make sure that it's fully operational for tonight, and the aircraft may have to be flown to make sure she is completely airworthy before she is loaded up with fuel, bombs and ammunition for the trip. The butterflies in the stomach seem to be settling down a bit, now that we have a job to do to take one's mind off the coming night.

Our proficiency in our respective jobs and the camaraderie between us helps to build up our confidence. The jokes are a little too loud and a rather forced, but they will get worse as the day goes on as the anxiety gnaws at our insides and we strive to put a brave face on it. The aircraft is OK but we still have the rest of the long day to get through before briefing at 19.30hrs. So let's go and have some lunch, but somehow I don't really feel like eating.

[Geriaviator]

A night to remember: part 2

WE set off around the perimeter track on our bikes and already the bowsers, heavy with fuel, are approaching the aircraft to fill up their tanks with thousands of gallons of 100 octane fuel. Following them come the trains of bomb trolleys being towed by tractors. We try to find out what the fuel and bomb loads are, and from that, get some idea of what the target might be, but it's not very conclusive. We shall just have to wait until we get to briefing to find out.

Back at the mess the smell of food being cooked is a bit hard to take and I would rather go to the bar for a stiff drink but I need to keep off the booze in order to keep a clear head for tonight. Just take a deep breath and go into the dining room and try to do justice to the steak and kidney pie and mash and boiled cabbage, oh dear!

More banter and jokes around the table helps to renew the flagging appetite and the meal begins to seem quite appetising and with a full stomach I might be able to manage a little sleep this afternoon. I really should try, because it will probably be near dawn tomorrow before I have a chance to sleep again. Oh dear, I wonder what will happen between now and then? I wonder if there will be a "then"?

Back in our corrugated iron nissen hut all is surprisingly quiet, maybe everyone is trying to get some sleep. It's pleasantly warm with the sun shining on the corrugated iron roof, sometimes it can get unbearably hot, and sometimes damned cold. I can hear the birds singing outside and the low drone of Merlin engines being run up on the other side of the village. It has a comforting sound, powerful and warm and reliable as I drift off ...

The noises in the next room wake me, it's just before four o'clock and I've been asleep for an hour and a half and I'm feeling drowsy and comfortable and then I remember, that damned sinking feeling hits my stomach again. Briefing is at seven thirty, which leaves just two and a half hours before we get our pre-ops meal of egg and bacon.

It’s just a short walk down a gravel path to the Mess in the warm August afternoon sunshine and somewhere behind all the nissen huts further up on the hill a tractor is working in one of the fields and its muted engine noise joins in with the bird song and the warm air is full of the heavy smell of new mown grass. Life seems so good and you wouldn't think there was a bloody war on but for the increasing noise of activity from the airfield on the other side of the village. I wish I didn't have to fly tonight.

[Chugalug2]

A Happy New Year to all who are still frequenting this ancient Crew Room. Now that the stove is going full blast again (thanks, Geriaviator!) it is at last losing some of its less than endearing mustiness. Ronald Homes has got off to a cracking start, hasn't he? I can empathise with him to the extent that, as skipper, he was the lowest ranked commissioned officer in his crew. As a Hastings captain I too shared that fate, albeit as an F/O against his P/O. Both my co-pilot and navigator were Flt Lt's, the rest of the 6 man crew being of Sgt, Flt Sgt, or Master Aircrew (W/O equivalent) ranks. The real divider though was that most of them were also married men, therefore drawing Marriage Allowance! The Co-Pilot kept our Form 6663's (pay and allowances) up to date as we proceeded on our itinerary for days, sometimes weeks. Those in the know would scan these forms and have a fair idea of the extent of the monthly pay involved. As a single liver-in, I would in vain point out the glaring pay discrepancies and that subbing in for the beers, or even the food, when we were out and about as a crew should reflect the imbalance more. I was pooh-poohed! Ingrates all!

Crewing up in WWII Bomber Command was very arbitrary, but sadly until death did them part in too many instances. At an OTU (Operational Training Unit, such as Bicester) the various aircrew, already trained up elsewhere as pilots, navs, WOp's, A/Gs, would be driven to a hangar, on the floor of which they were instructed to sort themselves out into crews for training together (on Blenheims in this case), before going on to an HCU (Heavy Conversion Unit) for training on their operational type, ie Lanc, Halifax, Stirling, etc, where they would be joined by their F/E's (who had a longer technical course), thence joining their assigned squadrons as a fully operational crew. This concept of crewing up died off post war, in Transport Command at least, but Sqn Cdrs still had enough discretionary power to invoke it if they chose. One of my bosses did, so that I flew as Captain with the same crew, albeit with swaps and changes due leave, sickness, etc, for most of the time I was in his Squadron. By the time that the Hercules had succeeded the Hastings, that became a thing of the past (along with training co-pilots up to first pilot status due lack of a tiller on the RHS of the Hercules flight deck).

Well enough rambling, but I have rather indulged myself in the sincere hope that the tradition of meandering off into the leafy lanes of reminiscence, so encouraged by Danny, was still our standard operating procedure.

[Geriaviator]

Oh yes, ramble away, Chug, there's ever fewer of us to do so! This much followed thread, still the most viewed on Prune at 4,708,674 views and now attracting 800 views per day since it re-activated, has flared up once again although most of us feared it wouldn't. And for those who remember our revered Danny 42C, regards and New Year good wishes from his daughter Mary, with whom I was in touch this morning. She is pleased to hear her dear Dad is still remembered with such affection. Happy New Year everyone, may we be still around to see the end of it!

[pulse1]

I often remember with amazement and gratitude another stalwart of this thread. For a long time cliffnemo informed, educated and entertained us. I strongly recommend that any newcomers to this thread look at his posts which cover a long, adventurous flying career as a bomber pilot and, after the war, as a commercial pilot right into the jet age.

[Geriaviator]

A night to remember -part 3

THE Mess is very quiet, everybody subdued and deep in their own thoughts, most of the armchairs are occupied with lounging figures pretending to read well-thumbed copies of Flight and Picture Post or yesterday's papers, but finding great difficulties in concentration. Two or three chaps are at the small tables around the edge of the room, writing letters, sometimes gazing into space seeking inspiration. What can you write about other than what fills your mind, tonight’s operation and the chances of survival, but that must not be mentioned..

There's a copy of Tee-Em and an empty armchair which I soon make use of and get lost in the antics of Pilot Officer Prune, the feather-brained pilot who puts up every flying 'black' in the book.

Then suddenly I'm drawn back to the real world by my navigator sinking into the next armchair with his friendly Canadian greeting 'Hi'. "Hello Alex, have you been sleeping"? Aw no" he tells me, he's just taken a walk down to the farm to see if there were any jobs to do, but Mr. Martin was out in the fields, probably driving the tractor that I heard earlier, but I guess it filled in a bit of the time for him in these long empty anxious hours before an operation.

The minutes drag by until it's time for the six o'clock news on the BBC Home Service. The radio is switched on and the precise well rounded voice of the announcer tells us of the successes of the armies as they push their way into France, and that last night a strong force of Lancasters and Halifaxes attacked targets in the Ruhr, doing extensive damage to oil refineries and marshalling yards. I wonder where we shall be going in just a few hours’ time?

Soon it's time for the eggs and bacon. The faces begin to look less worried for everybody knows that it's the other chaps that don't come back, not you. Anyway the food is comforting and the atmosphere is full of high spirits, even though a little false.

"B flight bus is outside!" shouts somebody from the dining room door. A hundred or more chair legs scrape the floor and a crowd make for the door to grab their hats in the scrum in the hall. It's amazing how most people manage to get their own hats when they all look alike. Outside the sergeants are streaming out of their Mess across the road and gathering together in groups with their officer crew members and a lively chatter of speculation develops as they board the buses to take them down to briefing. Not long now to find out what the target is!

[Geriaviator]

A Night to Remember -part 4

AS WE file into the briefing room all eyes go to the big map on the wall to see where the red ribbon goes to. Where is it? Frankfurt? Mainz? The loud general chatter and the scraping of chairs as the crews get themselves grouped together at the tables is suddenly silenced by the arrival of the AOC, the station commander G/Capt King, and the squadron commander W/Com. de la Everest.

Everybody stands until brought to ease by the squadron commander who steps up to the briefing platform. "Tonight's target is Russelsheim, between Mainz and Frankfurt" as he indicates the spot on the map, using a long pointer. "It's the Opel motor works that we have to flatten gentlemen, in order to reduce Hitler's already shortening war supplies even further.

"There will be 450 aircraft on the raid and as usual this squadron will be timed to be spaced evenly through the bomber stream. Start engines at 21.00 hrs for take-off at 21.30 hrs. Climb on track for Skegness where you will join the main stream at your allotted times. Climb on track again to be at this point on the Dutch coast at 18,000 ft, then on to the next turning point here (again the stick taps the chart) when you should be at your bombing height of 21,000 ft"........and so on.

Then follows the Met man with news of fair weather, then the navigation leader emphasising the importance of staying on track and in the stream and on time to the half minute, then the Intelligence officer with warnings of heavily defended areas to avoid, "the run into the target will be from the north-west between Mainz and Frankfurt so hold your track to avoid these areas". Then the bombing leader and the flight engineering leader and the gunnery leader, all with their instructions and words of warning. Set your watches, and finally a word of encouragement from the AOC, "hit the target hard and good luck chaps".

There's a look of determination on some of the faces now. We know the job and how to do it. This is what we have been trained for and we feel confident. The general chatter gets louder as we all file out of the briefing room to walk to the locker room to get kitted up for the trip. For most of the crew it's just flying boots, a sweater and silk scarf, Mae West and a parachute. Let's hope that we don't have to use them.

The gunners and special operators have to put on heavier, warmer gear because it's colder in their part of the aircraft, down to minus 30C or less at altitude, and there’s no heating back there. The Special and his radio equipment have a curtained-off compartment just in front of the mid-upper turret.

Pockets are emptied of letters, bus tickets, cinema tickets and anything that could be of use to enemy intelligence in the event of being shot down. I notice Smithy, our rear gunner, slip his lucky wishbone into his top pocket before he struggles into his thick, yellow, electrically heated suit and he catches my eye with a shy grin on his face. I hope it works! I mean, the wishbone. All kitted up and ready to go we file out to the crew buses to take us out to the aircraft.

The buses trundle around the perimeter track full of noise and ribald remarks. Nerves are stretched to breaking point now. It's funny how you feel chilly and a little shivery at this point regardless of the temperature, but it will be all right when we get on board the aircraft. We drop off the crews at their respective aircraft with loud shouts of "farewell" and "good luck" and "see you in the morning". Then the shout of "Nan Squared" means that we have arrived at our dispersal.

[Geriaviator]

A Night to Remember -part 5

IN THE cool half light of the evening, the aircraft stands there, big, black and menacing against a turquoise sky. The ground crew greet us with words of assurance as to the airworthiness of the aircraft and Stan, our flight engineer, and I go around the aircraft doing the external checks. Pitot head covers removed, all cowlings, inspection panels and leading edges secured. Check tyres for creep. We climb aboard to our respective positions, checking escape hatches, etc. Inside the aircraft there's that familiar smell of cellulose, oil and 100 octane fuel. Checking more equipment in the fuselage as we climb the steep slope forward and struggling over the main spar, our minds are beginning to get to grips with the task ahead.

Settling into the pilot’s seat on the parachute, buckling it on and doing up the seat belt, my hands are shaking a bit and none of the buckles seem to go together easily. The seat seems a bit hard and a bit too low. I adjust it and that seems to be more comfortable. Helmet on, plug into the intercom and connect the oxygen, check the instrument panel, switch on radio and check the intercom.

It’s now 2050 hrs, ten minutes to start up and all the crew are now in their positions with their equipment checked. Switch on intercom, "pilot to rear gunner OK?" "Rear gunner OK skip", "pilot to mid upper OK?", "Mid upper OK", "pilot to special OK?, "Special OK", "pilot to wireless operator OK?", "OK skip", and so on checking on each of the other seven crew members in turn. "OK engineer it's 2058 hrs and we're ready to start up". "OK skip, ground/flight switch to ground, trolley acc is plugged in, engine controls set, fuel OK".

"Right, start up number one". The big prop turns slowly with a whining noise, it kicks, and with a cloud of exhaust smoke it bursts into life with that deep throated roar. Number two, three, and four follow. All engines running now, all gauges OK. Ground/flight switch to FLIGHT, set engines to 1,200 rpm to warm up. Temperatures and pressures building, check hydraulics. Gunners check the movements of their turrets, wireless operator and Special check their radios, navigator checks the Gee navigation aid, compass, instruments, maps.

All the crew are working like clockwork now, going though the actions that they have been well trained to do. With the work in hand, you can feel the confidence building and the butterflies are being flushed out. Set each engine to 1,500 rpm and check magnetos, open up all four engines in turn to zero boost and check the superchargers, check constant speed units.

Open up each engine in turn to takeoff power and check boost, rpm and magnetos. The whole aircraft shakes and trembles like a huge animal coming to life. All OK, throttle back to 1,200 rpm and ready to go. "Pilot to rear gunner, all OK?" "Rear gunner OK skip", "pilot mid upper OK?", "OK skipper" and so on checking on all the crew in turn once again, a procedure that will be carried out over and over again during the trip. “Right chaps, we are ready to taxi”.

It's now 2120 hrs, the light is beginning to fade and other Lancasters are starting to roll along the perimeter track, big and black with their navigation lights on, towards the takeoff point. Thumbs up to the ground crew and wave the chocks away and we get a good luck wave back as we open up the throttles and trundle forward onto the perimeter track to take our place in the queue for takeoff.

[Geriaviator]

A Night to Remember -part 6

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Night after night, in all weathers, station personnel waved farewell to their crews as they stand over the FIDO fog dispersal pipeline alongside the runway. Their bicycles are leaning on the trolley-acc kept handy for an emergency engine start. Note the Wellington boots which were standard wear for Ludford’s ground crews as they paddled through the sticky Lincolnshire clay. No wonder the newly-built airfield was swiftly christened RAF Mudford.

THE usual group of well-wishers are gathered by the signals hut at the end of the runway. All ranks, officers, airmen and WAAFs, all with friends and loved ones taking off into the evening sky, perhaps never to be seen again. An experience that could be shattering in any normal times, but they have all learnt to steel themselves and put on a cheerful smile and a wave to give us confidence, and they repeat this performance night after night.

Pre-takeoff checks done, we roll heavily forward to the hold position straighten and line up with the runway, brakes on. The cockpit is flooded with a green light from the Aldis lamp as the signals hut gives us the OK to takeoff. “OK chaps, here we go!”

Brakes off, left hand on the control column, feet on the rudder pedals as the four big throttle levers in my right hand are eased forward leading with the left engines to counteract the swing, keep her straight with the runway, the deep-throated roar envelops us. A bit of right rudder, that‘s it. Ease the stick forward, get the tail up, that’s it! The rudder is beginning to respond now, keep her straight, that’s it! Throttles go forward, “Full power!”

The flight engineer takes over the throttles and holds them fully forward, “full power skip”. Both hands on the control column now, keep her straight, the aircraft is throbbing, the roar from the four engines is deafening. Airspeed is building, 60, 80, 90mph is called out by the flight engineer. The runway roars past but the massive weight of 2000 gallons of fuel and six tons of bombs makes itself felt through the controls and the end of the runway gets nearer and nearer. If one engine fails now we shall run off the end and the whole lot will blow up and leave a nasty big hole in the ground.

“One hundred, 110, 115, 120 mph” calls the flight engineer, gently ease back on the control column and all the rumbling and shaking stops and we are airborne, just in time to see the end of the runway slide away underneath. “Airborne 21.34 hrs navigator” -- “ 21.34 hrs skip”.

Phew! Our L-Love would have made a better job of it than that! A touch on the brakes to stop the wheels spinning and “Undercarriage up.” “Undercarriage up” responds the flight engineer as he lifts the safety bolt and raises the lever beside my seat. The heavy aircraft begins to slowly gain speed and height. Three hundred feet and the familiar trees and village houses slip away underneath, the upturned faces of village friends wishing us a safe return.

“Flaps up to 10 degrees” and she gains a bit more speed, “OK flaps all the way up”, “Flaps right up skip”. Trim nose up, at last she seems to be flying as the airspeed builds to our climbing speed of 175 mph. One thousand feet, reduce power to 2850, +9. “2850, +9 skip” and we slowly turn onto our heading 135 for Skegness. “Pilot to navigator on 135 compass”, “OK skip, ETA Skegness at 41”

[Geriaviator]

A Nght to Remember -part 7

THE higher we climb the brighter it gets and now the low setting sun glistens on our Perspex and that of the swarm of Lancasters that are gathering around us and all going our way. The sky ahead is a deep indigo with the oncoming night and the coastline is just visible in the grey mist below.

Another crew check and everybody is OK except Smithy the rear gunner who can’t see a thing with the setting sun in his eyes, I tell him not to look at it in case it spoils his night vision. We shall need all the good eyes we can muster to look out for enemy fighters and to avoid collisions with friendly aircraft in the dark. “Navigator to pilot, we’re running about a minute ahead”, “OK nav we’ll slow up a bit, make it 160 mph”

“Pilot to navigator, she’s climbing about 300 feet a minute which should put us about 18,000 ft at the Dutch coast”, “OK pilot I’ll just check”. “Bombaimer to pilot, Skegness coming up now, dead ahead”, “OK, bombaimer tell us when we are right over it”, “OK skipper.” Onward we drone and slowly the night settles in, the sun has gone now and the instruments take on that familiar green fluorescent glow. “Bombaimer to pilot, we’re right over Skegness now”, “Right bombaimer, that’s Skegness at 44 navigator” “OK skipper that’s fine, turn onto 128 compass”, “128 compass it is, navigator”.

The sky grows steadily darker. “Pilot to gunners, keep your eyes peeled for friendly aircraft and enemy fighters, the stream is beginning to bunch up now and it will soon be completely dark”, “ Rear gunner, OK skip”, “Midupper OK skipper”. With a steady drone we climb into the darkness as the outside world fades away with the cold, now invisible, sea two and a half miles below. It’s warm in this part of the aircraft and one could begin to feel that the rest of the world doesn’t exist, just this cocoon of metal with the instruments glowing comfortably on the instrument panel. With this false sense of protection and with the steady drone of the engines one could easily be lulled off to sleep.

“Lancaster, starboard bow, same level skip”, “OK bombaimer I see him” The call quickly shakes me out of my cosy feeling and I make some adjustments to avoid him. It’s not healthy to creep up behind another aircraft, a twitchy rear gunner is likely to think you are an enemy fighter and give you the benefit of his four Brownings and it would seem such a waste to be shot down by a friendly aircraft.

“Navigator to pilot, ETA Dutch coast at 34”, “Pilot to navigator Roger, Dutch coast at 34, I’m holding 128 compass, airspeed 160”, “Nav to pilot the Gee’s good and we’re bang on track”, “ Pilot to engineer, engines look OK, how’s the fuel consumption?” “Engineer to pilot, it looks OK so far skip”. Onward and upwards we drone though the dark, chill space of night, checking this and that and searching the blackness outside for the slightest smudge of blacker black, which might be another aircraft on a collision course.

[Geriaviator]

A Night to Remember -part 8

ONWARD and upward the steady drone goes on, with the regular scan of the instruments and the night outside punctuated at regular intervals by the crew check. Everybody is fully occupied with their own job and their own deep inner thoughts. The Special back in the fuselage is busy with his cathode-ray tube, searching the frequencies for directions to German night fighters from their controllers so that he can jam them with one of his three transmitters.

“Searchlights and flak ahead on the port bow skipper!” “OK bombaimer, it looks like somebody has wandered off to port of track and is getting a reception from Rotterdam. Are we on track navigator?” “Navigator to pilot, the Gee says we’re bang on and the signal’s pretty good so far.” “Good show navigator”. ”Pilot to bombaimer, see if you can get a fix on the Dutch coast, it should be just about visible and we should be there in three minutes” “OK skip”. “Pilot to gunners, keep your eyes open chaps, it looks as though they know we’re coming now”. Midupper, OK skip. Rear gunner, OK skipper. “Pilot to Special, any activity in your department yet?” “ Hello skipper, Special here, no, it all seems quite quiet at the moment, no doubt it will liven up soon.” “OK Special, keep us informed.”

My eyes sweep the green glowing instruments, again and again, then into the inky black sky, all OK, just saw another sparkle of exploding anti-aircraft fire ahead. It looks quite pretty from here, but it won’t when we get nearer.

“Bombaimer to skipper, I can just see the Dutch coast coming up now, I’ll give you a fix when we cross ..... now! 34 and a half on the tip of Overflakkee and I’m glad that it’s not living up to its name at the moment” “So am I bombaimer, it all looks very quiet, that could mean that there are Jerry night fighters about, keep your eyes open gunners”. “Pilot to navigator, did you get that?” “OK skip, we’re on track and 30 seconds late. Turn onto one zero two compass, ETA turning point is on the hour”. “Roger navigator, one zero two compass and on the hour”.

Over occupied territory now and right over a whole nest of night-fighter airfields, but so far all seems to be quiet, time for another crew check, all OK. I slowly become conscious of a beat developing in the steady drone of the engines as they become slightly unsynchronised, a quick check of the engine instruments shows that the starboard inner has dropped a few revs. The flight engineer leans forward, he has spotted it too, he checks the boost and temperature gauges and gives me a thumbs-up sign and a shrug of the shoulders. “Could be a little icing in the carb skip” “OK I’ll adjust the throttles, but keep your eyes on it”. With a slight adjustment of the pitch levers the engines revert to their steady drone. “Engineer to pilot, fuel consumption is fine, just changing to number 2 tanks” - “OK engineer.”

The monotonous drone is broken by a crackle on the intercom as somebody switches on their microphone. “Navigator to pilot, we’re about 3 miles to port of track, alter course to one one zero compass for the turning point.” “Pilot to navigator, one one zero compass it is, we’re levelling out at 21,000” “OK skipper 21,000, the wind seems to be a bit more southerly up here”. “Midupper to pilot, Lancaster on the starboard beam about 300 feet above us” “OK Midupper, keep you eyes on him, we will probably converge on him with this new heading” -- “OK skip”

[Brian 48nav]

Hi Geri, Chugalug and all - A very happy new year!

I've only just noticed that my favourite thread is active again and with the story of someone I had the pleasure of meeting a few times, Ron Homes.

About 2000 my wife and I were in one of our small local towns, Shaftesbury in Dorset. We walked past Bell Street Gallery and noticed there was an art exhibition there. My wife is a keen and good amateur artist and had exhibited there herself on several occasions. Slight drift - one person who bought one of her paintings was Sir Peter Harding former CAS and CDS who also lived locally - drift over. The artist exhibiting was Ron Homes - most of his work was of local scenes/subjects, but I noticed that there were several aviation paintings, which of course I was drawn to. One in particular caught my eye, a Dakota landing in what appeared to be a jungle strip. I said to Anne I bet that was Burma. Anyway off we went home. My birthday was coming up and Anne thought that painting would make a good present for me. She rang the gallery to be told the exhibition was over but was given the artist's home number. She rang and Ron said he still had that painting and gave her his address in Shaftesbury so that we could call and buy the painting. He was an extremely pleasant guy, showed us his aviation work including ' A night to remember'. I'll stop my tale here for the moment as I don't want to spoil the rest of Geri's story for everyone.
I look forward to reading the remainder of 'Night to remember'.

[Chugalug2]

If it weren't for Geriaviator I, and I suspect most of us, would have been unaware of Ron Homes, let alone his uncanny ability to tell a story. The detail is minute. What a pity he slipped through the net when this unique thread was at its zenith, but fortunately we had another storyteller of equal ability to remember and recount that all important detail. The similarities in style are striking, almost as though their education had the premise that they should be able to recount precisely and engagingly what they had experienced some 70 years previously. Thankfully he was driven to do the same as Danny, to get it recorded before it was too late.

Thanks, Geriaviator, for posting a Night to Remember here, where it can be best appreciated!

[Geriaviator]

Yes Chug, I was swept away by the writing style and the detail which gets better and better, even my wife was spellbound as she had enough flying knowledge to walk away from our Arrow should I have been incapacitated in our European and African wanderings. I wonder was Ronald in Burma at the same time as Danny42C? Brian, I'm amazed and so pleased that you were able to meet the man himself. I have sent you a pm. Now back to 101 Squadron!

[Geriaviator]

AS RONALD and his crew cross the North Sea on the first leg of their long journey, here is a very brief account of their vital duties in the skies over occupied Europe.

What we now know as electronic countermeasures had their beginnings in 1940 when the Luftwaffe used its ingenious Knickebein radio beam system to pinpoint and destroy Coventry. It was swiftly identified and jammed by British scientists, just as successive British systems would be neutralised by the Germans.

As Bomber Command lost more and more aircraft to night fighters, powerful radio transmitters in England were used to interfere with fighter control. The familiar jamming tone which blocked out voice transmissions was developed into speech instructions such as “fly north and await instructions” when the bomber stream was to the south, or false warnings of fog which caused night fighters to return to base. As these warnings became recognised as fake, some German crews ignored them and were lost when the fog proved to be genuine.

In early 1943 a powerful transmitter codenamed Airborne Cigar was fitted to the Lancasters of 101 Special Duties Sqn, and proved so successful that the squadron aircraft were spaced all along the bomber stream to disrupt fighter activity. There were 42 Lancasters on the squadron, so numerals were added following the identification letter: hence Ronald’s SR-N2 which was designated Nan Squared.

https://cimg8.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/850x443/fido_landing_4abbfb166fcee41403e361fe806abcdb8e19b2d0.jpeg

The work of 101 Sqn was considered so vital to the bomber offensive that its Ludford airfield was chosen as one of only 15 among Bomber Command’s scores of bases to be fitted with FIDO fog dispersal apparatus. This involved spraying petrol from a line of pipes along each side of the runway which when ignited created a tunnel through the dense fog about 300 ft wide and 200 to 300 ft high. Pictured is a 101 Sqn Lancaster landing in dense fog which had forced the closure of airfields all over England.

The operation was top secret but one operator recalled after the war: “We sat alone in a small compartment on one side of the fuselage. All I could see was the mid-upper gunner’s feet a few feet away. I had a three-inch cathode ray tube which showed the Germans’ fighter frequencies as a line across the base, and German signals appeared as blips on this line.”

When the operator, who spoke fluent German, identified a fighter controller’s transmission he switched on one of the Lancaster’s three transmitters and blocked it. The Luftwaffe controller would then change frequency but it took only seconds to tune and block the new frequency as well. The Special could introduce a variety of jamming tones, speech, or the Merlin’s mighty roar from a microphone mounted in an engine compartment. Meanwhile, the bombaimer in the nose was throwing out metallic strips of Window to reflect the radar pulses and render the fighter and ground control radars almost useless.

An obvious move was for the fighter to home onto the jamming signals, but the RAF had thought of this and switched on their transmitters only long enough to disrupt the controller’s transmissions. The Germans knew about ABC just as soon as the first aircraft was shot down and its equipment analysed, as they did for other devices such as H2S radar, IFF friend-or-foe transmitters, and Monica tail warning radar, all of which were used for homing, but they never fully overcame it and its successors.

Among the developments was a huge transmitter codenamed Jostle, carried by B17 Fortresses and Liberators which had the space and extra generating power to take it over Europe. At one stage the jamming was so successful that the Luftwaffe was reduced to using the Army’s powerful Anne-Marie broadcasting station to disguise messages as music of different types, such as playing waltzes to indicate the raiders were over Cologne, marches meaning over Berlin, classical music for Duisberg and so on. The British then jammed Anne-Marie as well.

As the day bombing offensive intensified, the Americans used British know-how to jam the radar-predicted flak which took a heavy toll especially when the bombers held a steady course on their bombing runs. (One of the major manufacturing centres for such radar equipment and proximity fuses was a city called Dresden).

One of 101 Sqn’s major operations was on D-Day, when the squadron put up 24 Lancasters in a line north of the invasion area to jam all fighter communications while the invasion fleet was crossing. Not one fighter was encountered over the landing areas but one Lancaster was lost, probably to flak.

However, the Luftwaffe found a partial solution to Window and jamming in Wilde Sau (Wild Boar). On clear nights both day and night fighters were given a free hand to enter the densely packed bomber stream, taking a grim toll until the growing force of Mosquito night fighters was able to cover every night-fighter airfield on the deadly route to Germany.

For a full description of the electronic war, may I recommend Instruments of Darkness by Alfred Price.

[Brian 48nav]

Thank you for your messages.

i don't think I'll be giving too much away by the following.

Ron was living in Shaftesbury when we met - he is not listed in BT Directory Enquiries now. Further ferreting around reveals that Bell St. Gallery has been renamed Ron Homes Gallery which suggests that is in memory of him. I believe he completed a full tour of ops on 101 followed by a posting to 238 Sqn flying the Dak. Jefford's RAF Sqns ( I've met him too at the RAF Historical Society's Hercules event at Filton in 2019 ) has 238 reforming at Merryfield ( near Taunton ) on 1.12.44 then deploying in Feb '45 to Raipur, then Comilla then to Parafield in Oz before disbanding on 27.12.45. I guess they routed via Hong Kong as I have a painting by Ron of a Sunderland overflying shipping vessels in the harbour.

I think Ron worked in industrial design after demob'. He hadn't flown for years until a chum took him up in a light aircraft from Compton Abbas - he and his Lancaster crew stayed in touch for the rest of their lives.

Finally an amusing story - Anne and I called in to see an exhibition of work by another artist and we spotted Ron looking around the other end of the studio. We said to Nick the artist, do you know Ron? He's an artist too. Yes he replied 'He is my ex-Father-in-Law'!

[Geriaviator]

A Nght to Remember -part 9. By RONALD HOMES, pilot, 101 Special Duties Sqn RAF

STARING into the black night sky to hold onto a black smudge while you’re searching the blackness for other black smudges which could turn out to be a lot more sinister is very tiring, but if we can spot them first we stand a chance of living. My eyes are getting tired now and I have to fight off the drowsiness that threatens to engulf me. Onwards into the blackness relieved only by the red glow from the exhaust of the port inner engine. It always seem to be uncomfortably bright on these very dark nights.

“Pilot to navigator, we must be getting close to the turning point now.” “ Navigator to pilot, yes skipper, only another minute to run, then onto one three six compass, ETA for next turning point is 38. “Roger navigator, turning now onto one three six compass, ETA at 38, airspeed 190.

Suddenly a bright orange ball of fire lights up the sky about a quarter of a mile on the port beam when a Lancaster and its full fuel and bomb load disintegrates. “Some poor sods have bought it skip”, “Pilot to midupper, if that's you, OK we can see it.” “Pilot to crew, there was no sign of flak chaps, so that means fighters. Keep your eyes skinned, navigator make a note of that on your log.” “ OK skipper.”

Onward we drone with the aircraft swinging slightly from side to side as the gunners swing their turrets in their endless searching into the blackness. Eyes staring into the dark sky, and what’s that? A faint patch of light on the port beam. What the……? Of course it’s the moon just coming up and behind a patch of cloud. Not a full one tonight, thank God!

“Pilot to rear gunner, OK?” “ OK skip, the moon’s just showing up on the port beam”, “Good show, I’m glad you’ve spotted it, keep a good look out to starboard, we might be silhouetted against that light patch. Midupper?” “OK skipper”

“Pilot to crew, everybody still awake?” “Special OK, skip, there’s quite a bit of fighter activity on the frequencies.” “OK Special. Wireless, you OK?” “OK skip, we just got the broadcast wind and I’ve passed it to the nav.” “Navigator’s OK skip, turn onto 138 compass, we’re slightly to port of track, the wind has gone round a bit to the west. ETA is still good at 38 for the turning point”. “Roger navigator, pilot to bombaimer, are you OK?” “Bombaimer to pilot OK, I’m still chucking out this bloody Window!” “OK keep up the good work!” “Ha, Ha!”

[Brian 48nav]

I've found that Ron died on 29/7/2015 and was still painting almost up until his demise aged 92. 238 Sqn's base at Comilla was on the then Indian ( now Bangladesh ) border with Burma. Would Danny have left Burma by then?
Take care, Brian Wildey

[Geriaviator]

Bravo Brian, I shall link all this info in the epilogue to follow Ron's wonderful story. We do know that Danny left Burma in 1944, from his e-book In with a Vengeance: All six Vengeance squadrons were ordered to cease operations in June '44, and we would shortly leave the Arakan, never to return. Danny then returned to India where he commanded the gas spray trials, returning to Blighty in 1946.

Just spent an hour on this -- finding the date was easy but as usual Danny's tales lead to another, then another! I think everyone has read his book but for those that haven't, send me a PM with your email address. The RAF Benevolent Fund will be delighted if this gets off the ground again!

[Geriaviator]

A Night to Remember -- part 10. Eight minutes to target, and green markers are going down

ONWARD into the night we drone, check the heading, the airspeed, the altimeter, we’ve gained a couple of hundred feet, trim nose down a bit. Must be getting a little lighter as we burn off some fuel. The green glow of the instruments seem so bright now that they seem to be burning into my eyes, it must be past my bed time. How nice it would be to be in bed now, all warm and safe instead of four miles up in the dark over Germany with the Luftwaffe intent on killing you.

“Rear gunner to pilot, there’s flak and searchlights about five miles on the starboard quarter.” “Pilot to rear gunner, roger, somebody’s wandered over Cologne I expect”. “It might be a diversionary raid” says the engineer who is standing next to me, scanning all his engine instruments and writing up his log with the aid of his glow-worm of a torch. “Yes, engineer, let’s hope it works, we’re only about 20 minutes to the target now, engines look happy?” “Yes skip”. “Navigator to pilot, we’re running a couple of minutes early, can you cut the speed back to 175?” “Pilot to navigator, wilco”.

Bring back the throttles a bit, trim up the nose, and the airspeed creeps back to 175, a slight adjustment to the pitch levers and the four big engines resume their regular drone. “Navigator to pilot, it’s 14 minutes to the turning point then 10.5 minutes to run into the target.” “Pilot to navigator, roger, things will start hotting up soon chaps, everybody keep your eyes skinned” “OK skipper”. “Special to pilot, there’s a lot more fighter activity now skipper.” “Ok Special, did you hear that chaps? Keep your eyes open, gunners.” “Bombaimer to pilot, it’s all looking very quiet and dark ahead skipper.” “OK bombaimer, I expect they will be switching on the bright lights for you soon.”

“Navigator to pilot, turning point in one minute, then onto 171 compass”. “Roger navigator, 171 compass it is”. Only 10 minutes to the target now. You can feel the tension growing, five pairs of eyes constantly searching the blackness for a darker patch that may be an enemy fighter or at best another Lancaster on a collision course. It may come from above, or below, fighters usually attack from behind and below, but only the gunners have a chance to see them, so I swing the aircraft slightly from side to side to give them a chance to spot them under our tail.

Eight minutes to the target now and some green TIs (target indicators) start to go down, way out in front and on our starboard bow. That’s right, it must be our target because we have a 20 degree turn to starboard for a short run-up of ten miles to target. “Pilot to bombaimer, you had better get your gear set up.” “Bombaimer to pilot, all set skipper, they’re beginning to switch on the lights now.” “Yes, searchlights and a bit of flak going up now”.

Suddenly over to port there is a concentrated load of flak finishing with a bright orange ball of fire as another Lancaster is hit. “Another one’s got the chop skipper” somebody shouts over the intercom. “Pilot to mid-upper, if that’s you, OK I saw it. Pilot to navigator, log that one, over Frankfurt I guess.” “OK skipper.”

[Geriaviator]

A Night to Remember -- part 11 Bombs gone, now let’s head for home

BOMBS are beginning to go down over the target now, and I tune into the frequency for the Master Bomber. His voice is just audible over the static saying that the marking is good. Fires are beginning to light the night sky over the target and more flak is coming up ahead. Five minutes to run. “Pilot to navigator, turning onto the bombing run now, speed 175” “Nav, OK skipper.” “Pilot to bombaimer, all set?” “Bombaimer OK skip, bombs selected.” “Pilot to crew, OK chaps here we go, keep your eyes open, but with this amount of flak coming up I don’t suppose there’s any fighters about.”

The Master Bomber’s voice is clearer now saying “Bomb the red and green TIs, the marking is good”, as we slowly, oh so slowly advance towards that huge dome of fire. Exploding anti-aircraft shells sparkle in clusters like iron fillings dropped in a flame, just at our level but still a little ahead. The fires below begin to reflect a glow on the underside of the aircraft and other Lancasters come into view like little black toys silhouetted over the fires of the target.

“Bombaimer to pilot, starting the run up now, we’re a bit to port, right-right” “Roger bombaimer, over to you.” “Roger, bombdoors open skipper” My left hand drops to the lever and selects the bombdoors open: “Roger, bombdoors open.” A slight change of trim as the two massive doors under the aircraft fall open, fluttering in the slipstream and a tremble comes up through the controls. Everything has to be very steady now, keep the heading and airspeed correct. Airspeed steady at 175, heading 071 degrees, steady, steady. A sudden change will upset the bombsight and we will miss the target.

“Right right” says the bombaimer, slight pressure on the starboard rudder pedal and the direction indicator swings slowly through two degrees. “Steady” responds the bombaimer. I hold it at 073 degrees, brilliant flashes in the target area as bombs burst sending out concentric ripples in the fires below. The tension mounts, everybody seem to be holding their breath...CRUMP..CRUMP.. two shells burst near enough to be heard above the roar of the engines and the aircraft jumps.

Steady, check airspeed, check the heading, OK. “Left-left” calls the bombaimer, “Steady-steady”, as the red and green TIs slowly creep up the wire on his bombsight. Flashes from exploding shells seem to be all around us now, the bombaimer’s instructions become more frequent, “right….steady……left-left……steady……steady….s.t.e.a.d.y….. s..t..e..a..d..y - BOMBS GONE!!! ” Donk….Donk….Donk…. go the bombs as they are released from their hooks and the aircraft rears up as its massive six ton load drops away.

Trim nose down to keep the airspeed steady, check the heading, keep her steady now for a long, oh so long two minutes, while the flak bursts seem to be getting closer and closer, until the photoflash goes off and the camera takes a picture of where our bombs would strike. Then “Bomb doors closed” from the bombaimer, my left hand pulls up the lever and my right hand pushes the control column forward to build up speed while the engineer pushes the throttles forward.

[Chugalug2]

The final trial, holding the bombing-run track for a further 2 minutes after bomb release for the all important photoflash record of your bombing accuracy, only then can the bomb doors be closed and the speed increased! The enemy know your height and can fuse their antiaircraft shells accordingly. Is abandoning this vulnerable procedure justified if you are caught and coned by the searchlights? No doubt we will learn more in upcoming Geriaviator posts. The writing is superb, right up there with the likes of Ernest K Gann, in painting this verbal Son et Lumiere scene of a Night to Remember in the wartime skies of the Third Reich.

[Video Mixdown]

A Night to Remember -- part 11 Bombs gone, now let’s head for home
BOMBS are beginning to go down over the target now,.......
Totally gripping. I keep checking back for the next instalment!

[Geriaviator]

A Night to Remember part 12 ............ Away from the target, all’s well -- until the fighter strikes

YOU CAN sense the massive release of tension in the crew as the engines’ roar takes on a higher note and the airspeed builds up to get away from the target area and out of the flak as fast as possible. Check the crew, “pilot to crew, everybody OK? Rear gunner?” “Rear gunner OK skip” “Mid-upper?” “Mid upper OK skipper” and so on. “Right chaps, everybody’s OK , let’s go home”

“Navigator to pilot, turn onto 297 compass” “Roger navigator 297 compass, airspeed 195” “Roger skip, airspeed 195, I’ll give you the time to the next turning point in a minute” “Roger, navigator”. There’s comfort in the steady drone of the engines now and quite an elated feeling at having survived another target and we’re on our way home.

Suddenly the mid-upper shouts “FIGHTER!” I slam on full left rudder, control column forward and hard to port, his guns begin to chatter and instantly the plane is shaken by a series of dull thumps. What a strange noise… WE’VE BEEN HIT! A brilliant yellow-orange light fills the cockpit. “ Starboard outer’s on fire skipper” shouts the engineer. “There’s a bloody great flame going past the tailplane” shouts the mid-upper. “OK chaps, settle down. Pilot to engineer, feather the starboard outer and push the fire extinguisher”. “OK skip ... Fire’s still burning skip” -- “****!”

Thoughts rush through my mind as I continue to throw the aircraft about in a corkscrew to avoid the fighters. We must be a choice target now, lit up in the night sky like a flaming comet and if we don’t get this fire out we have had it! “Engineer to pilot, it looks like a fuel fire, if we turn off the fuel to the starboard side we might be able to starve it but it will mean feathering the starboard inner as well.” “ OK engineer try that!”

“Pilot to crew, anybody hurt?” “Rear gunner, OK skip but my turret’s U/S.” “Mid-upper’s OK but so is mine.” “OK gunners, keep your eyes skinned for that bloody fighter and just give me directions to avoid it” “OK skipper”. “Special OK,” “Navigator OK,” “Wireless OK skip,” “Bombaimer OK, skipper.” “Good show chaps ...

“What the hell is happening engineer? “Starboard inner’s feathered skipper!” “So has the bloody port inner, I’ve only got one engine left!”

[MPN11]

OMG!! Not going well. However, the author survived to tell the tale, so I await the next instalment with bated breath!

[Geriaviator]

A Night to Remember --part 13 .......... Losing height, Ron struggles to hold the Lancaster on one engine

THE engineer looks puzzled and runs his eyes over the controls and instruments and I think I catch a glimpse of a shrug of his shoulders. Is it getting darker?... I think it is ... “The fire’s going out skip.” “Thank God for that, engineer, I think I can stop corkscrewing now, pilot to gunners, shout as soon as you spot a fighter, and tell me which direction to corkscrew!” “Rear OK skip” “Mid-upper OK”.

We’ve lost a lot of height over that and we are now down to 10,000 ft and all on our own, well below the bomber stream and won’t be able to maintain that on just one engine. My left leg is aching with the pressure required to keep the aircraft straight against the uneven thrust of the one outboard engine. I become conscious of the sweat on my back and a dryness in my mouth and a growing determination to get this lot back. Please God, I don’t want to end up in a prison camp.

“Pilot to engineer, as soon as the fire has cooled down we will have a go at starting the starboard inner, meanwhile let’s see if we can get this port inner wound up, we’re losing too much height like this.” “OK skipper”. “Pilot to navigator let me have a new heading for home as soon as you can, we are down to 10,000 ft now so there will probably be a different wind, you will have to take a guess on where we are now”. “Navigator to pilot, hold onto 297 compass while I work something out”. “Roger navigator”. “Engineer to pilot, starting up port inner now”. “Roger engineer”.

The big propeller by my left hand window slowly begins to turn as it becomes unfeathered, a couple of blue flashes from the exhaust and she winds up to 1,200 revs to warm up before opening up to cruising power. Everything appears OK and I get the thumbs up from the engineer. Another hurdle over.

“Engineer to pilot, we seem to be losing a lot of fuel from number one starboard tank, I think it must have been holed. I’m switching all engines to that tank.” “OK engineer, have we lost much?” “Three or four hundred gallons I’d guess”. Christ! we’d better start leaning out or we shall never get back, I don’t fancy a swim in the North Sea after all this.”

“OK skipper, I think we can have a go at starting up the starboard Inner.” “OK turn on the fuel to that side but if the fire starts up again shut it down straight away.” “Roger”. Everybody has their fingers crossed as the propeller out of the right hand window begins to turn and the engine slowly comes to life and as it comes up to cruising power a blessed relief is given to my left leg as the thrust becomes more even and I can trim it out. Another blessed relief is enjoyed by all when the starboard outer remains dark.

[MPN11]

… and … breathe! Thanks for keeping us posted, Sir!

[Geriaviator]

A Night to Remember -- part 14
One hour 30 min fuel remaining, but it’s one hour 50 to base

“PILOT to crew, OK chaps we’ve now got three engines again which should get us home alright if we are careful with the fuel. We are 10,000 ft, well below the bomber stream and we can’t afford the fuel to climb up and anyway we’re not really sure where we are. All the guns are out of action and it looks as though we have lost all our hydraulics, so keep your eyes skinned for fighters.

“Rear gunner to pilot, my eyes are smarting and I’m soaked in bloody petrol”. “Pilot to rear gunner, I think that some of the fuel we lost has been sucked into your turret, hang in there as long as you can”. “OK skipper”. “Navigator to pilot, I can’t get a fix on anything and I’m not sure exactly where we are so hang onto 297 until we can get a fix”. “Pilot to navigator Roger, 297 it is”. “Pilot to engineer, let’s reduce the power to zero boost and 2000 revs, that should give us about 160 at this height”.

The engine notes become softer and return to the steady drone as the engineer adjusts the pitch controls to synchronize the remaining three engines. All appears quiet and very black outside as the airspeed settles to 160. “Navigator to pilot, at this speed, it should be just over the hour to the coast”. “ Roger navigator, it’s going to be a bloody long hour. Pilot to crew, did you hear that chaps, keep your eyes open and your fingers crossed.”

Onward we drone, long minute after minute through the darkness with everybody deep in their own thoughts, nerves stretched to breaking point. The engineer over my right shoulder is busy with his glow-worm of a torch and his fuel log working out the consumption, the navigator busy trying to get his Gee set to work and give us a fix to find out where we are and the gunners manually winding their turrets from side to side to search the inky black sky for any signs of enemy fighters. “Pilot to Special, are your sets still working?” “Special, yes skipper but there’s not much going on locally, we seem to be on our own.” OK Special, let’s hope it stays that way”.

“Pilot to bombaimer can you see the ground?” “Nothing worth while skipper, I’ve been trying to get a fix on something but so far, no good”. “OK bombaimer, keep looking”. On and on we fly though the night on the heading of 297, heading for the coast of mainland Europe, but which part? Any minute we could fly into a heavily defended area, be coned in searchlights and be the sole target for all the flak, heavy and light, at this level.

“Engineer to pilot, we’ve used up all the fuel in number one starboard tank now and switched to number one port. We seem to have enough fuel for just over an hour and a half at these settings” “Roger engineer, navigator, would you like to take a guess at our ETA for base?” “Navigator to pilot, my guess is about one hour fifty.” “Roger navigator, that seems a bit tight”.

One and a half hours of fuel and one hour fifty to base, it looks as though we should go for an alternative. Without hydraulics, no flaps, possibly no brakes and a chance of a dodgy undercarriage an emergency field seems to be our best hope.

[MPN11]

Wethersfield Woodbridge? That’s what it was there for!

[Ian Burgess-Barber]

Manston?
Woodbridge?
Carnaby?

THE SUSPENSE IS...............

Ian BB

[Geriaviator]

A NIGHT TO REMEMBER -- Part 15
A pinpoint at last ... but it's an island fortress bristling with Flak artillery

https://cimg3.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/900x591/c_charlie_fido_pipes_24f323c9c8de5ac92aaf2b8b6b070d1bb205cc3 8.jpeg
Elevator and wing shredded by gunfire, one engine feathered, hydraulics unserviceable, C for Charlie made a flapless belly-landing at Ludford and carried away some of the FIDO fog dispersal piping along the side of the runway. Note the seven-foot whip aerials for the three ABC jamming transmitters.

“PILOT to navigator, if we can get a fix on the coast we had better set a course for Woodbridge, we might need their two mile runway”. “OK skipper we should be getting near the coast in about ten minutes.” ”Pilot to bombaimer keep your eyes on the ground for some kind of fix.” “OK skip”. “Engineer to pilot, there’s some flak way over to starboard.” “Roger, might be the main stream”.

Minutes drag by with all eyes searching the darkness for some point of recognition. How long can our luck hold out? Where the hell is that coastline? It must be coming up soon! Can we slip out over the sea without being attacked by a fighter or run into defended area? “Pilot to engineer, what’s the fuel state?” “OK skipper, should get us to Woodbridge”. Where’s that coast line? I’m getting anxious now, check the heading for the hundredth time -- yes OK on 297 compass. Perhaps we’ve got a stronger headwind at this level.

A crackle on the intercom, somebody switches on their mike. “Bombaimer to pilot, I can see some water down to starboard” “Good show bombaimer can you identify anything?” “No skipper, it’s wide….. not just a river…… hold on there’s another bit of coast coming up…. it’s an island…..it’s big……Christ it’s Walcheron! We’re going to go right over it”. At least we know where we are. [Editor’s note: Walcheron island was key to the Scheldt estuary and the port of Antwerp. As such it was heavily fortified and manned by 12,000 German troops and artillery.]

Suddenly a hundred searchlights pierce the night sky, forming what looks like an impenetrable fence of light. Now they start to move and sway about and three or four move in our direction. One sweeps across towards us and a heave on the controls into a diving turn to starboard and it sweeps past our port wing, hard over to port as another comes in from that direction…. missed us, a steep climbing turn to the right and, damn!

One catches us, like a moth in a flame, the whole cockpit is lit up with a brilliant blue-white light. Immediately five or six others join in and we are coned, a sitting target for all the guns on the island but no guns fire! Not one! That could only mean that there are fighters in the vicinity and the searchlights are holding us as a sitting target for them. I’ve got to get out of these lights.

Another heave on the controls into a vicious diving steep turn to port down, down, then over to the right with the airspeed screaming and the altimeter going through 8000 feet then hard over to the left again and a pull back on the control column into a climbing turn to the right and suddenly it’s dark again and we’re out of their clutches. Thank God that starboard wing, which must have been weakened by the fire, held on. The lights continue sweeping and searching as we weave our way through them anticipating their next move, diving and turning to avoid being caught again.

[Ian Burgess-Barber]

I'm channeling Mrs Doyle - "Father Ted", TV Series 1995-98 (for our overseas readers who may not have seen it).

"GO ON, GO ON, GO ON"!

Ian BB

[Geriaviator]

A Night to Remember -- part 16 . . . . . . . . Clear of the flak, and at last a bearing for home

Editor’s warning: Today’s sensitive souls on satnavs may not wish to read this account which contains WW2 radio codewords which saved many lives. The initial call DARKEY indicated emergency and asked for searchlights to be pointed towards the nearest airfield. It could be followed by other codewords as in this case. It was a quick way of communicating vital information and I don't consider it's my place to change Ron Homes's detailed and stirring account. QDM has survived today and was originally Morse code requesting a course to reach the airfield.

I CAN see the edge of the island now just down on the port side. Nearly through and out to sea. Now what? All the searchlights have laid down their beams pointing straight out to sea along our route out. “Pilot to gunners, look at the lights, they’re showing the fighters which way we are going, keep you eyes skinned for them” “Reargunner OK skip, Midupper OK skip” We’re now down to five thousand feet and keeping up a gentle corkscrew.

“Pilot to navigator, after that bit of excitement, have you got that heading?” “Navigator to pilot, compass course for Woodbridge is 280, and 44 minutes to run. “Roger navigator, 280 compass and 44 minutes.” “Pilot to engineer, how’s the fuel?” “Engineer to pilot, we’ve got about 170 gallons left, enough for about 68 minutes.” OK, that gives us a little in reserve, but not much.

“Pilot to crew, everybody OK? How’s the eyes reargunner? “OK skipper, a bit sore” “Glad you were able to stick it out, not long now, but don’t relax too much, they will still be after us, Midupper OK?” “OK skipper” “Bombaimer OK? Good bit of map reading there”. “Bombaimer OK skip” “Pilot to wireless operator, call up Woodbridge and ask for an emergency landing, our ETA will be 0246 hrs”. “Wireless to pilot, Roger ETA 0246 hrs”.

Onward through the night, the engines keeping up their continuous drone, enough to induce sleep after all that excitement but we must keep wide awake, for we are not home yet. It would be a shame to be shot down on the last leg and the thought of all that cold black sea underneath us sends a chill down my back and a longing for a warm bed. “Wireless to pilot, we’re cleared to Woodbridge, call on R/T when we get closer.” “Roger, fifteen minutes to run now”.

Switch R/T over to Woodbridge frequency for emergency homing and call “DARKEY from RELATE Nan Squared request QDM one two three four five, over” “RELATE Nan Squared QDM two seven zero, two seven zero over” “Nan Squared, two seven zero, Roger out.” A slight turn to port on to 270 and ease off power to reduce height to 2000 ft. Ahead all is dark until, a glimmer of light, flashing, yes, dar dar dar dar dar dit dit, yes OZ, the beacon at Woodbridge.

“Woodbridge from RELATE Nan Squared your beacon in sight, landing instructions please.” “Nan Squared you’re cleared for a straight in approach Runway 27 QFE 1012 wind 260, 15 to 20 knots, what is your damage, over.” “Woodbridge from Nan Squared, three engines, no hydraulics, undercarriage suspect, your runway in sight over.” “Roger Nan Squared call finals.” Reduce power, down to 1000ft.

“Right engineer, landing checks, undercarriage selected down, operate the emergency compressed air system”. “Undercarriage down but we’ve only got one green light skipper”. “OK engineer, the port’s OK, look out of your window and see if the starboard leg looks OK”. He searches with a torch and it appears to be down but we can’t be sure it’s locked.

[topgas]

Obituary for Flt Lt Rusty Waughman, 101 Sqn pilot, in the Times today here (https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/30aa16dc-ee4c-4822-92ac-f1d9cf6a89c4?shareToken=637ae3802a117313c7fdbd81dad4dea4) , hopefully not behind a paywall

[MPN11]

Obituary for Flt Lt Rusty Waughman, 101 Sqn pilot, in the Times today here (https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/30aa16dc-ee4c-4822-92ac-f1d9cf6a89c4?shareToken=637ae3802a117313c7fdbd81dad4dea4) , hopefully not behind a paywall
Worked fine ... thanks for posting!

[Geriaviator]

A Night to Remember --- part 17

“WOODBRIDGE from Nan Squared we only have one green, starboard leg is down but we don’t know if it’s locked, over”. “Roger Nan Squared can you do a circuit and be number two for landing, we have another aircraft in distress.” “Nan Squared, wilco”. Blast! I guess they don’t want us doing a wheels up landing and blocking the runway. Ease over to starboard to fly up-wind with the runway lights looking very inviting down on the port side.

“Pilot to crew, hang on chaps we’re doing a circuit, we may finish up with a wheels up landing so get to your crash positions and brace yourselves when I say. OK reargunner?” “Wilco skipper” “Midupper OK, skip” “Special OK skipper” “Wireless OK skipper” “Navigator OK skipper” “Bombaimer coming up, skip” as he climbs from his position in the nose to his crash position with back against the mainspar behind me.

Just past the end of the runway and a gentle turn to port holding 1000 ft and onto the down-wind leg and now for the landing checks. Undercarriage is down, trim set, mixture rich, pitch to 2850 rpm, flaps we haven’t got, fuel booster pumps on. “ OK engineer?” and I get the thumbs up. “Woodbridge from Nan Squared down wind” “Nan Squared call finals” “Nan Squared wilco.” This is it, will that starboard undercarriage stay down? Round we go again to the left in a gentle turn with the perimeter lights sliding away underneath, reduce power to start a gradual descent at 150 mph, I can sense everybody holding their breath.

“Engineer, I will land slightly port wing low to keep the weight on the port wheel as long as I can. As soon as I feel the starboard leg collapsing I will shout undercarriage UP, OK? “OK skip, I’m holding the lever”. The runway lights slowly come round into line as though the land below is twisting and we are standing still. “Nan Squared, finals.” “Nan Squared, clear to land”.

Glide path indicator showing green, now changing red, getting too low so increase power ... that’s it, airspeed 130, back in the green, runway suddenly begins to approach rapidly, end of runway coming up, pilot to crew BRACE BRACE!

Back gently on the control column, left wing low, ease off power, back, back, power off……with a slight squeal the port wheel touches the ground… rumbling along, faster than usual, the starboard wing gently sinks and as the wheel touches, we hold our breath and it holds! Keep her straight and control column hard back as the speed slowly drops off.

“Nan Squared, clear left if you can.” “Nan Squared, roger”. With the aid of the inboard engines we steer gently to follow the van to the parking area where we come to a very gentle halt, close down the engines as the ground staff quickly chock the wheels.

[Jamster_21]

Obituary for Flt Lt Rusty Waughman, 101 Sqn pilot, in the Times today (removed so I can post), hopefully not behind a paywall
I don't post very much at all but what I read this obit is - some boy he turned out to be!

[Chugalug2]

I'm sure that I'm not the only one wondering how and why the inner engines were both lost yet feathered and could later be restarted. If only Ron was here to explain, or perhaps he still does. Watch for the next episode in this amazing story.

And thanks also to topgas for Rusty Waugham's obit. Another who slipped through our net with a story of shear survival to tell who nonetheless clocked up his century despite his unpromising state of health on joining the RAF! I loved the Dudelsack nickname given to 101's Lancs, with their 3 tall whip antennae, two up and one down. A tribute to the Luftwaffe, "you see, we Germans also have a sense of humour!". Yet the 101 casualty rate is shocking. How did they go out night after night, literally broadcasting their presence to German night fighters? Volunteers to a man and, luckily for us, all of that remarkable WWII generation that rightly involves so much awe.

[Geriaviator]

Yes Chug, I'm sure we all wondered about the engine loss too. I think it may have been that multi-engine bogey, feathering the wrong engine. If I remember from my boyhood lessons the Lancaster starter buttons and mag switches were in a row at the top right of the full-width panel, in front of the engineer who stood alongside the pilot, with a similar row of four big red feathering buttons below them and the Graviner extinguishers below that. In the chaos of those terrifying minutes it would have been easy to push the wrong one even for such a well-drilled crew.

As you say it's an amazing story which has had more than 37,000 views since starting on December 29, just like old times. I have also found more info about Ron Homes, not least the well-earned DFC which he said nothing about, and will post this material after the last post of his story which will appear tomorrow. Regards to everyone.

[Brian 48nav]

Thank you very much for bringing Ron's story to us. Although I knew the bare bones of the tale, Ron having told Anne and me when we went to his house to buy the Dak' painting, I couldn't wait for the next instalment.

Where we used to live on the Somerset/Wiltshire/North Dorset border we had a handful of ex-WW2 pilots - Gerry Fray who took the before and after photos of the dams raid from his unarmed Spitfire, Mike Vlasto who was the first pilot to lift wounded Chindits out of the Burmese jungle ( see 31 Sqn 'First in the Indian Skies' ), Dick Maydwell who initially was an Army Officer on secondment to the RAF, and fought with 53 Sqn in 1940 ( see JW411's book on 53 Sqn ), Peter Lillywhite who flew both Spits and Hurricanes after the B of B and Douglas Wilson. I used to bump into Douglas in our local - he had been an airman in the 30s and was one of the few each year that were selected to be NCO pilots. He was a Fairly Battle pilot in France during the 'Phoney War' and was back in Blighty on AL when the Germans attacked France. This almost certainly saved his life. Later he flew with men such as Foxley-Norris ( old Foxey as Douglas called him ) on Max Aitken's Beaufighter wing. Of course by then he was commissioned. He remained in the RAF after the war and retired as a Grp Capt in 71. I think his last posting was OC the JATCRU in Singapore. He may even have flown Sabres on exchange with the USAF during the Korean War. I repeatedly asked him to write his story - his reply always " I can't be bothered with that Old Boy'. He was real 'old school', even omitting to tell his wife that he had terminal cancer!

[Chugalug2]

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Here is the Lancaster Instrument Panel as reconstructed by his son in this story about the man who restored R5868 S for Sugar at RAFM Hendon:-

Veteran spent seven years and £250,000 building life size Lancaster Bomber replica | Daily Mail Online (https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3521305/Veteran-father-fixed-Lancaster-Bombers-Second-World-War-spent-seven-years-250-000-building-life-size-replica.html)

As Geriaviator describes, the feathering buttons and fire extinguisher switches are at the lower RHS of the panel immediately in front of the standing FE. All in black though, in this pic at least. Hope you can just make them out.

[Ian Burgess-Barber]

This from Brian Abraham in 2009:
On the Military thread "Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW11" page 20, post 397. ED. This happened on a Halifax.

During the day of an Operation we would take our aircraft up on an air test to give all the equipment on board a thorough workout. On one occasion I asked Bill, my Yorkshire Flight Engineer, to feather one of the engines so that I could practice some three engine flying. A rotating propellor, without power, causes enormous drag on the aircraft, so the blades of the propellor of the "dead" engine are turned electrically, so that the leading edge is presented to the airstream, This is called "feathering" as in rowing, when the blades of the oar are turned in similar fashion so that they do not cause drag in the water. We always carried out air tests at an altitude of 5,000ft. or more and it was just as well as when Bill pressed the button of the Port outer engine (The engines are numbered from 1 to 4 looking from the tail to the nose, so the Port outer was No.1). and "Bingo" ...all four engines promptly feathered themselves and, of course, stopped. Bill, the unflappable Yorkshireman , said "Bloody Quiet up here ", leaned forward and pressed the same button and all four engines unfeathered themselves. On the post mortem, later, it was found that a drop of solder from some electrical work above had neatly fused all four circuits together.

You couldn't make it up - plus the positioning of feathering buttons was often an "afterthought" - one decorated Mosquito pilot described his aircraft's cockpit as "an ergonomic slum" but, of course there was a war on and 'elf & safety' was not even a concept in those times.

Ian BB

[Geriaviator]

A Night to Remember - part 18
In which an exhausted crew of a wrecked aircraft make their own way back to Ludford, where they face the same ordeal 12 times over.

SILENCE at last, everything is still while everybody digests the fact that we have survived and slowly we start to unbuckle seat belts and parachutes and gather together our bits and pieces and start to make our way down the fuselage to the exit door. The engineer stands aside to allow me to stiffly get out of my seat. “OK Stan, we made it!” “Yes skip, I’m glad that undercarriage didn’t fold up”. The navigator is just finishing stuffing his charts and gear into his green canvas bag. “OK Alex?” He gives me a wry smile. “Yep, I guess so”.

Why are we all so subdued ? Mentally exhausted? We should be cheering and shouting, but we don’t, we just climb wearily into the crew bus which takes us over to a welcome cup of coffee, a tot of rum and de-briefing. “Your eyes look very red Smithy, you had better get them looked at after we’ve been de-briefed.” “OK skip, they are bloody sore but I’ll have my rum and coffee first”. We walk to the mess where egg and bacon is on the menu and at four o’clock we fall into bed and sleep the sleep of the exhausted.

We wake in time for lunch after which we report to the admin office to discover that our squadron can’t spare a crew to come and collect us and that we will have to make our way back to Ludford Magna by rail. We are a motley looking bunch in our flying boots, helmets, Mae Wests and parachutes when we are taken to the railway station to board the train for London, where we find that we have missed our connection to Lincoln and will have to stay overnight.

Who’s complaining? I live in London, so does Peter our Special and Junior the midupper, so we make our way through the Underground and on buses, six of us to my home where I can be with my wife and the other two to their homes, having made arrangements to meet up again in the morning to catch the train back to Lincoln and bus to Ludford.

It’s very strange, dressed as we are nobody seems to be taking any notice of us. It feels as though we are invisible and nobody knows that just a few hours ago we were over Germany in an aircraft in flames and facing instant oblivion. Oh well, we won’t tell them, we will just go on enjoying the fact that it’s good to be alive and hope that we can survive the next twelve operations.

https://cimg6.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/930x649/roncrew_on_prop_142c6a6d44fcf7f1d8db36d00893d9286116c477.jpg
Ron (on the right) and his Lancaster crew did survive their tour of 32 ops despite their flying beacon for night fighters, and kept in touch for the rest of their lives, in Ron's case at the age of 92. More about this remarkable man in the next few days.

[Ian Burgess-Barber]

A gripping story of very brave young men in an exceptionally dangerous 'game' (as if Bomber Command wasn't a risky way of earning a crust anyway)!
The joyful photo that we finish with and the fact that they survived their tour brings the story to a welcome, and rare, happy ending. Thanks, Geriaviator for finding this one for us, looking forward to hearing what Ron did next.

Ian BB

[Taphappy]

Have been AWOL for a considerable time and on a whim thought I would pay a visit to the crew room and was delighted to find that this thread which had looked to be fading away had been resuscitated .. Well gone to Geriaviator for posting "A night to remember" and a belated Happy New Year to all.

[Geriaviator]

DELIGHTED to see you back on frequency, Taphappy, and that you enjoyed this gripping account which ranks among the best on this thread, I think. Ron’s postwar career post is almost complete, then into our next project: an account written by a Special Operator of 101 Sqn. Best wishes, TH!

[Ian Burgess-Barber]

Let’s hear it for the Navs.

Now, back in the day, we used to navigate by drawing lines with chevrons on them, on paper charts, (no really) - and it usually worked out OK.
So, as we have been immersed in Lancaster Operations in recent posts around here, I hope that the attendant photos will be of interest to this congregation.

My late Godfather, name of Leo Charles Bent, a Lancashire lad, became a Nav. in Lancs. (The aircraft not the county), in the last year of WW2.

He trained at the No. 41 Air School in S. Africa, and after the usual AFU & OTU sessions he joined Bomber Command Main Force with No. 44 (Rhodesia Squadron) on Lancasters. He flew 13 ops. in 9 weeks with them from Dunholme Lodge.
His first op. was to Caen, Normandy, on 12 June 1944, (just 6 days after D-Day).

After a course at NTU Warboys (Sept 1944) he became a Pathfinder Nav. on No. 83 Squadron P.F.F. ( Lancasters again), this time out of Coningsby. He did 17 ops. with them. His final raid, on 25 April 1945 was to the oil refinery at Tonsberg, Norway, (the last Heavy Bomber operation of the war in Europe, involving 107 Lancasters and 12 Mosquitoes. That was the finish of his tour (30 ops.) and VE Day came 2 weeks later.

After his passing (aged 91), he left me his log book and the chart that you see here. It shows all the devious tracks (feints) and turning points that they made, before homing in on the target. All his 30 ops. are here, numbered and dated.

I hope that you can enlarge the photos and that you can then appreciate this genuine relic of WW2 paper chart navigation.

Ian BB

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https://cimg7.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1500x2000/img_20240116_140000_1_11zon_b691e5da42b7877efa5f9c49332c8a35 68d46c78.jpg
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[Ian Burgess-Barber]

Finger trouble, I am 76 years old and all this computer stuff does not come naturally - and no child in the house to instruct me!
Here goes with the missing photo........
https://cimg1.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/1500x2000/img_20240116_140025_1_11zon_af4d8da344fc559205016f6c66fafd44 58ee0a1d.jpg

[India Four Two]

Like some others, I had been neglecting this thread recently.

Geriaviator, thanks for posting that gripping story, I am passing on the link to other aviation, enthusiast friends.

[Geriaviator]

Wonderful memories of your godfather, Ian, and his meticulous plotting. I have wondered at the skills of the navs, from steering their way through the fiery skies of the Reich to pinpointing targets in the Mosquito's tiny cockpit as it streaked along at 300mph low level. India 42, the thread has been quiet since Danny's passing so it's nice to see it fired up again -- 34,000 views of Ron's story since its beginning on December 29. Just like old times!

[Geriaviator]

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Ron Homes recreated those terrifying moments in his painting, A Night to Remember.

RONALD HOMES was born in London in 1922 and left school to study at Willesden College of Art. In 1940, at the age of 18, he enlisted in the Royal Air Force and after initial training went to Terrell, Texas, for flying training, where he gained his wings in May 1943.

On return to the UK for conversion training to Lancasters he joined 101 Special Operations squadron in May 1944, completing 32 operations. over Europe. After his bombing tour, for which he was awarded the DFC, he was promoted to Flt Lt and converted onto Dakotas, joining 238 Sqn to fly supply-dropping and casualty evacuation missions over Burma.

In June 1945 the squadron moved to Australia to provide transport support for the British Pacific Fleet around the South Pacific. After the Japanese surrender he joined 1315 Comms Flight and flew in Japan for the occupation forces.

On demob in 1946 Ron resumed his studies at the Central School of Arts and Crafts and spent the next 30 years as an industrial designer and manufacturer. He then taught painting at the Salisbury College of Art and with the Dorset and Wiltshire Adult Education classes. During the war he married Ione Baker, a union that would endure for more than 70 years. The couple had three children, four grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

Throughout these years he was building his own reputation as a successful artist. He had many exhibitions in Shaftesbury where he lived, the West Country and Suffolk and he exhibited in London at the Royal Institute Mall Galleries and with the Guild of Aviation Artists. Ron kept in touch with his Lancaster crew for the rest of their lives, but did not fly again until a friend took him up in a light aircraft from Compton Abbas.

Ron Homes died on July 21, 2015 and was still painting up until his death at the age of 92. He is remembered in the Ron Homes Gallery in the Shaftesbury Arts Centre.

https://cimg7.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/914x460/ludford_then_and_now_071215f420dfe7336e727ef50067a2325676508 1.jpg
Little remains of the airfield from which Ron and his crew struggled to persuade their heavily laden Lancaster Nan Squared into the air. After the war Ludford was used as a Thor missile base, but once these became obsolete the runways and taxiways were lifted and like so many WW2 airfields, all that remains are the ghostly traces of the runways long after their removal, a few yards of crumbling concrete and the carefully tended 101 Sqn memorial in the nearby village.

Video
Amended to add: One Jay has made a nice little video of the airfield as it is today, aerial views of runway strips now used as farm roads etc. Poignant to see the Nissen huts, I wonder did Ron and his crew once inhabit one of these?

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[Chugalug2]

Having just received my latest RAFHS Journal (#82), my thoughts turned to this thread as it features Bomber Command in 1943. Other Society Journals and Publications have also featured the Command, from its inception in 1936 to the Cold War. #82 is only available to current members, but all those up to #55 ( Coincidentally entitled "Bomber Command"! ), and associated Papers produced in co-operation with the RAF Staff College Bracknell, can be freely downloaded here :-

RAF Historical Society Journals (rafmuseum.org.uk) (https://www.rafmuseum.org.uk/research/default/raf-historical-society-journals/)

Unlike more recent contributions these past talks were often delivered by those with personal experience of what they describe, and thus very much in keeping with the ethos of this revered thread. For the annual sub of £18 RAFHS membership is a bargain in my view, and open to all who are interested in the history of the RAF and the development of Air Power.

[Geriaviator]

https://cimg1.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/950x265/sam_brooks_head_ef4a8052092dabbed8bd028f61befe3c6a899611.jpg
By Pilot Officer Sam Brooks, London. Special Operator, 101 Sqn Royal Air Force.

THEY say you should never go back, nor seek to renew old acquaintances -- you will only be disappointed. I don't really believe it, but then a lot happens in a lifetime, and one is sometimes tempted not just to look ahead...

In the spring of 1943 I was called up and chose to join the RAF for training as aircrew. They said I could elect to be trained as a pilot and wait to join up for a year. Alternatively, they had vacancies for rear gunners -- come next Monday. I was keen to get started but... ummm. There was a third choice, be a wireless operator and come in three months. That sounded like a reasonable compromise, and I took it. August Bank holiday 1943 found me reporting to the ACRC (Air Crew Reception Centre), at Lord’s cricket ground for induction and training.

I joined a squad of 30 likely lads, all destined to train as wireless operators, and we started initial training. Three weeks of inoculations and square bashing to commence. We lived in commandeered luxury flats along Prince Consort Road, marching to be fed in a similarly commandeered cafe at the zoo just across the road in Regents Park.

Then to Bridgnorth to 19 ITW (Initial Training Wing), where we started the rudiments of wireless training and began to absorb Morse code. November came and we moved to Number Two Radio School at Yatesbury in Wiltshire - a huge wooden-hutted camp in the middle of nowhere but with a small grass airfield next door, from which we would be taught wireless operating in the air.

The course we were embarked upon had been of two years duration before the war. Now it had been condensed into six months because of the enormous demand for aircrew in RAF Bomber Command. Enormous? Yes, the Bomber Command strength had built up to an ability to deliver 1,000-bomber raids over Germany on a nightly basis. Losses were significant, sometimes tragically large. They needed Aircrew.

We were all desperately keen and training classes went on from 8am to 6pm, six days a week - Sundays off. Phew! During this time I became friendly with another trainee in the group, Keith Gosling. I came from suburban London; Keith from Frizinghall, Bradford. We were very alike in character and background -- grammar school boys from stable homes, imbued with an ethic for hard work. Middle class, I suppose you would have had to call us. We had similar interests and abilities.

Did I say 'desperately keen'? It's worth repeating. We, and most of the other lads around us, were entirely and selflessly committed to becoming the best wireless operators ever! Neither Keith nor I had the slightest difficulty with the theoretical side of the course, but both found it extremely difficult to conquer the required speed barriers in Morse.

The course ended in the spring and we both passed with excellent marks. My mark on the theory side was 95%, and for operating in the air it was 85%. We proudly became sergeant wireless operators and stood by for posting to OTU (Operational Training Unit), the next stage towards operational flying.

During this time, waiting to be posted, two unusual things happened. First we were both asked to go before a commissioning board with a view to becoming officers. We were not told the results and suspected that we were not selected. The second strangeness came one morning on parade when the NCO in charge called on all those who had learned German at school to step forward. After a moment's hesitation, I did so. So did Keith with two others from the group.

Within a week we four were called in and told that the remainder of our training would be cut by some months as we would be posted to a familiarisation unit to get used to flying in heavy bombers. and we would probably be flying on operations within a month! Our job would be to fly in Lancasters to operate special jamming equipment designed to prevent the Luftwaffe night-fighter pilots from hearing directions from their ground controllers.

[Geriaviator]

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IT WAS a very exciting time. We were sent to No.1 LFS (Lancaster Finishing School) at Hemswell, north of Lincoln, to fly for 10 hours as passengers in Lancasters, and familiarise ourselves with being carried in large four-engined bombers. This was quite necessary as our air experience previously had been in the stately de Havilland Dominie (Dragon Rapide biplane) and tiny Percival Proctors. The Lancaster was large, loud, fast, and fierce. While we were there, the second front opened with D-Day on 6 June 1944.

Soon we went on to 101 Squadron at Ludford Magna on the Lincolnshire Wolds. This was a three-flight squadron, flying up to 24 Lancasters in the bomber stream, armed and loaded with bombs just like the other heavy bombers but with an extra crew member in each squadron aircraft to do the jamming.

Upon arrival the first thing was a few days’ introduction to the equipment we were to operate. It went under the codename 'ABC', which stood for Airborne Cigar; I have no idea why they named it that. It consisted of three enormous powerful transmitters covering the radio voice bands used by the Luftwaffe.

To help identify the channels to jam there was a panoramic receiver covering the same bands. The receiver scanned up and down the bands at high speed and the result of its travel was shown on a timebase calibrated across a three-inch cathode ray tube in front of the operator. If there was any traffic on the band it showed as a blip at the appropriate frequency along the line of light that was the timebase.

When a 'blip' appeared, one could immediately spot tune the receiver to it and listen to the transmission. If the language was German then it only took a moment to swing the first of the transmitters to the same frequency, press a switch and leave a powerful jamming warble there to prevent the underlying voice being heard. The other two transmitters could then be brought onto other 'blips'. If 24 aircraft were flying, spread through the bomber stream, then there were a potential 72 loud jamming transmissions blotting out the night fighters' directions.

The Germans tried all manner of devices to overcome the jamming, including having their instructions sung by Wagnerian sopranos. This was to fool our operators into thinking it was just a civilian channel and not worth jamming. I think ABC probably did a useful job, but who can say what difference it made. Anyway, it was an absorbing time for keen, fit, young men who thought only of the challenges and excitements of their task and little of the risks they were about to run.

Next step was to get "crewed up". The normal seven-man crews for Lancasters had been made up and had been flying together for months before arrival at the Squadron. We Special Duty Operators now had to tag on to established crews and it was left largely to us to find out with which pilot we, in our ignorance, might wish to fly.

Just before this process started both Keith and I were called into the squadron adjutant's office one morning and told that we had been commissioned as pilot officers. The adjutant, a kindly, ageing flight lieutenant, advised us to go to Louth, the local town, see a tailor and order an officer's uniform. We were to get the tailor to remove our sergeant's stripes and replace them with the narrow pilot officers shoulder bands on our battle-dresses. He should finally provide us with an officer's hat! The adjutant gave us vouchers to hand to the tailor to assure him he would be paid! We were told to move our kit from the NCOs' quarters to officers' accommodation and the adjutant would see us in the Officers' Mess at 6pm to buy us each a beer.

I had imagined that becoming an officer would include some kind of OTU or training course to instruct us what sort of behaviour might be expected of us. Not so, not for newly commissioned aircrew on a bomber station in Lincolnshire in the middle of 1944. What is described in the previous paragraph is all that happened.

Looking back I can see that all the things we were experiencing at this frenetic time were tremendous shocks to our systems. They left us ill equipped to take the apocalyptic decisions we were about to make and which, as it happened, would decide whether we lived or died.

[MPN11]

Like the instant Commissioning ... what a culture shock that would have been!

[ancientaviator62]

I have a copy of an Observer/Navigator/Bomb Aimer log book detailing Alan Dowden's time in 4 Group on Whitleys and Halifxes. It is full of one liners about the ops carried out. He went from being an LAC in 1941 to W/C OC 10 Sqn by the end of the war. The sqn was then converted to Dakotas and sent to India. I have often wondered how those ex Bomber Command crews must have felt about this. I think that I would have not been very happy having done my 'bit in Bomber Command.

[Geriaviator]

My father's friend at Binbrook in 1949/50, Bob Nash from Vancouver, survived two tours on Lancasters, concerning which the nine-yr-old Geri pestered the life out of him. Despite all he loved flying and would drill me on an old Lanc used for dinghy drills. On hearing that we had returned from India in 1947 he told us he had sought a posting to India to fly Dakotas with a view to a career in civil aviation after the war but there were too many pilots chasing the few jobs. Instead a grateful nation allowed him to stay flying on Lincolns, at price of demotion from Flt Lt to Flt Sgt with appropriate lowering of pay and pensions.

[Geriaviator]

By Pilot Officer Sam Brooks, London. Special operator, 101 Sqn Royal Air Force.

CREWING UP was to follow shortly, but on our first evening in the officers' mess we had met two Canadian pilots, Pilot Officers Daniel Meier and Gordon Hodgkinson, newly arrived on the squadron with their crews and eager to find their extra ABC wireless operators. Our decisions were made that night. I got on well with both of them, but perhaps had marginally more in common with Gordon Hodgkinson than Meier. Keith felt perhaps closer to Meier and so our choices were made, almost by the toss of a coin: me for Hodgkinson, Keith for Meier.

I started flying with Hodgkinson who, as it happened, did not find it easy to settle down to the conditions over a hostile Germany. Our first operational flight was on 30 June 1944. 'Hodge' managed seven operations, but remained unsettled and had turned back unwell on two occasions. He was finally taken off flying and went back to Canada. I was re-crewed with a succession of other crews and completed my tour of 30 operations on 6 January 1945.

Keith started flying with Meier about the same time as I started. Our other two sergeant colleagues from Yatesbury also joined crews of their choice. One of them, Englehardt, died I believe in a raid on Stettin in August and was buried where his aircraft crashed in Sweden on the way home. The fourth of us, Auer, survived like me.

https://cimg1.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/977x455/ludford_lan_maintenance_f7febe2120f8a13d9e419671f4297328cf7c 48c5.jpg

Like most Bomber Command airfields, aircraft were serviced at dispersals in all weathers. Despite the howling gales across the Lincolnshire Wolds, and the highest airfield in Britain, a team of unsung groundcrew service a 101 Sqn Lancaster with its triple ABC aerials. Note the sea of mud around the concrete standing – they had good reason to retitle their base as RAF Mudford Magna.

When we were flying on raids to the industrial Ruhr the route for the bomber stream was often from base to Reading; Reading to Beachy Head; Beachy Head to Le Treport; then east across France and into Germany. This was our route to attack the Homberg/Meerbeck oil refinery in the Ruhr on the night of 20 July, 1944

Meier's Lancaster did not return and the crew were posted as missing. We learned later that they were homebound when they were hit by Flak at 8000 feet north of Lille, crashing a little to the south of Cambrai. It was less than a year since Keith and I had joined up on August Bank Holiday in 1943 at Lord’s Cricket Ground.

Keith's mother Florence knew that we had been friends and wrote to me. There was little I could do to help or advise her as to what had happened. For a while I hoped that we would hear that Keith had been taken prisoner but it was not to be.

It was some months before I heard the story of the crew's fate that night, and strangely enough it came from Florence. The flak had caused Meier's Lancaster LL862 K for King to lose a wing and break up. By the best of good fortune two members of the crew had parachuted down into occupied France. The other six, including my pal Keith, did not escape.

All this information was vouchsafed to Florence in a letter from one of the survivors who had felt obliged to write to the relatives of each member of the crew when he was released from a POW camp. Florence had wrongly thought that it was Meier the pilot who had survived and she could not understand how the captain of the aircraft could have survived when six of his crew had died. She quoted the naval tradition that a captain should be the last to leave his sinking ship.

I had seen our bombers shot down in daylight raids, and knew that once an aircraft began to break up there was absolutely nothing that anyone could do except try to save himself. I tried as gently as I could to get this across to Florence. We continued to exchange letters but our correspondence petered out in mid-1945 when the German war was over and I was posted to India to prepare for the attack on Japan.

Of course the bomb in August made that unnecessary and I spent two years in various parts of the Far East, waiting to be demobilised. When I came home again I never forgot my friendship with Keith, but I did not feel inclined to re-open an old wound for Florence by trying to get in touch again. Maybe I should have done so, but I didn't.

[steamchicken]

Note the targets classified "V-1 site", "railways", "oil", and just...."destruction". A very clear view of Spaatz and Harris' priorities.

[DHfan]

Ludford Magna was nowhere near the highest airfield in Britain. It was the highest bomber airfield, according to wiki, at 428 feet above sea level but Davidstow Moor Coastal Command airfield in Cornwall was well over twice the altitude at 965 feet.

[Geriaviator]

Ooooh dear. Thank goodness for Wiki to keep me right.

[DHfan]

Sarcasm doesn't become you.
I had no idea of the altitude of Ludford Magna but I knew that Davidstow Moor was the highest airfield in Britain.

I was also amazed to find that somewhere in Lincolnshire was over 400' above sea level.

[Jobza Guddun]

Nearby Kelstern (054/4nm) is around 410 feet. Binbrook is pretty high up, I'm sure someone here will remember it's elevation.

[Ian Burgess-Barber]

Jobza,

Wiki says Binbrook is 374ft AMSL.

Ian BB

[DHfan]

According to Military Airfields in the British Isles 1939-45 (Omnibus Edition) by Willis and Holliss, Ludford Magna is 420', Kelstern is 410' and Binbrook 330' asl. Davidstow Moor is 969' asl.

The data is apparently based on official documentation so should be reliable. 969' seems peculiarly precise...

[SLXOwft]

Even though in Lincolnshire Binbrook wasn't flat. :E I had a look at the OS 1:50k map - there is a 113m point roughly where the threshold of 03 was, the 21 end was approx 97m so 370 ft to 320ft, you pays your money etc. When eating my Cathedral City at my lowly 55m I thought whoever stuck an airfield up there must have been totally bodmin, to use the venacular, maybe they thought it would normally be above the cloud. (Addendum: Cathederal City is manufactured alongside the former RAF Davidstow Moor - but I forgot to meention it was that airfield)

[SLXOwft]

In the latest post on the Chipmunk (https://www.pprune.org/11583650-post753.html)thread commenting on the photo Megan says 'Suspect the chap in the rear is instructor Jack Williams who was of very small stature, flew as a rear gunner in Lancasters engaged in spoofing during WWII.' I think he may be the same as 'H. J. (Jack) Williams RAAF, (who) was a Mid Upper Gunner who completed 30 missions in Laurie McKenna's SR-V (Venus) LL779' with 101 Sqdn. I came across some anecdotes related by his son.

'
A Movement card quoted in the book "RAF Lancaster LL779" says the aircraft had to be returned to the factory for a new airframe because of heavy damage over Berlin. Dad had related that during an attack VENUS flipped on its back…the "special" bailed out…..but the rest of the crew remained because Laurie was able to get LL779 back on an even keel.

Ironically Dad, retrained a former JU88 pilot for his flying licence after he migrated from Germany to Australia in the 60's…..they figured that they had probably met somewhere over Germany during the war.


(source: https://ww2aircraft.net/forum/threads/raf-base-at-ludford-magna-uk.7500/)

[Geriaviator]

Airfield height presumably was a factor in the bitterly cold winds which swept the Wolds, as remembered by one who spent four childhood years at Binbrook. But they wouldn't concern me as much as the north-south alignment of Ludford's main runway. Given the prevailing winds from the west, encouraging the aircraft to weathercock to the left, the Lancaster's full power swing to the left on takeoff, and the crosswind component in effect shortening the runway, the loaded aircraft must have been a real handful. No wonder Ron and his crew were worried knowing that N2-Nan was down on performance.

[Geriaviator]

Pilot Officer Sam Brooks, London, Special operator, 101 Sqn, concludes his account of special operations from Ludford Magna in Lincolnshire

AS THE years have gone by life has of course developed in many other directions but I have always been reminded of Keith when a place, or a song, or some other thing has sparked a memory of our close but brief comradeship. He is the one I think of and shed a tear for on Armistice Day. Secretly, over the intervening years, I felt a need to find out where Keith was buried and to visit the grave to say a sombre and measured farewell.

The opportunity to follow that wish came on the 50th anniversary of the war's end approached. I made enquiries at the Ministry of Defence as to war graves and received a very speedy and helpful response. Keith was buried in a cemetery near Cambrai on the road that goes in the direction of Solesmes in grave B, row 31 -- all very precisely military. My wife and I crossed the channel to Calais early on the morning of 21 July 1994, the fiftieth anniversary of Keith's death.

We drove to Cambrai past some of the massive military cemeteries from World War One. Through the town we found the road to Solesmes and looked for our cemetery. The only one in sight was a German World War One cemetery, well tended and stark with granite crosses. We passed it by looking for the more familiar British headstones. On to Solesmes, still no other cemetery of any nation and we re-traced our steps towards Cambrai, thinking we had missed it.

The German cemetery was on the outskirts of Cambrai itself and in desperation we stopped there hoping to obtain directions. Inside a gardener was cutting hedges and I went to speak to him not knowing whether to try German or my more halting French. After my first words he replied to me in English. He was a Londoner, an employee of the British War Graves authorities. Apparently the gardeners did not always work in the cemeteries of their own nations.

Yes, he did know where World War Two RAF graves might be found. They were in a plot set aside in the civilian cemetery next door, only 100 yards from where we were speaking. We were quickly there, and sure enough we found a group of some 40 RAF graves. The dates on the headstones told their own sad stories. There were sets of headstones, side by side with the same date, clearly each set from the same bomber crew.

The group for 21 July 1944 had four headstones, one of them Keith's. I did not know the other names in that crew. There were two gaps in the line. I learned later that these probably represented the spots where bodies had been repatriated by relatives, probably to Canada. So that was it, two had survived, four were here, and two had moved on. The whole crew of eight were accounted for.

In my mind's eye, over the 50 years, I had imagined Keith as having been found, and his body, still in uniform, laid peacefully to rest. I looked at the headstone, and carefully carved at the top was the RAF crest, and at the foot the words 'Proud and treasured memories'. That must have been Florence's wording. I read the other words, 'Pilot Officer K. Gosling. Pilot. Royal Air Force. 21st July 1944. Age 19'.

Did I say that one should never go back to renew old acquaintances? Well, as you know Keith was a wireless operator like me. Why should it say pilot on the headstone? How much had they found to bury? I was strangely upset.

https://cimg6.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/990x496/cambrai_rte_de_solesmes_c736f3b6109b20254e95a24b715c4d0e6007 36fc.jpg
Pilot Officer Keith Gosling (19) alongside his flight engineer F/Sgt Ian Reid (21) rests forever among their Bomber Command comrades in the Cambrai cemetery. They were two of 1,176 airmen who gave their lives while serving with 101 (Special Duties) Squadron, Royal Air Force.

[Chugalug2]

How poignant are these military cemeteries. As Sam Brooks points out, always laid out in parade like rows and groups, whether in the large CWGC cemeteries overseas or the more intimate village churchyards of the UK. Just like Keith Gosling's grave, my father's has precise co-ordinates; Yokohama War Cemetery, Plot K, Row D, Grave 8, British Section. My mother received this information in a letter from the Imperial War Graves Commission, Melbourne, Australia together with a brochure containing photos of the different national plots there and and the Cross of Remembrance that overlooks so many such cemeteries worldwide. She was never able to visit it but I was fortunate enough to have a day off on a stopover at Tachikawa, then a USAF base near Tokyo, and was able to do so.

I took the short train ride to the Port of Yokohama and using the locality map in the brochure made my way up to the cemetery. It is laid out on a hillside above the town and, as one would expect, is immaculate albeit the grass had turned brown at the time. So I found the plot, then the row, and counted off the graves. Suddenly I was confronted by a bronze plaque bearing my name well, my surname and our shared first initial actually, together with the service number, rank, date of death, and the Royal Artillery badge (he was in a LAA TA battery). It really pulled me up short to be at his graveside having concentrated so much on getting there and finding it that I had given little thought on what I would feel or even do. I gathered myself, stood in silence (I forget, but probably at attention, it comes so naturally at times like this if you've served), said a few words, and took photographs of the grave and the cemetery for my mother. It was all eerily quiet despite the surrounding habitation, though Google Maps shows much more development since then, with a motorway on one side of the cemetery and a children's playground on the other so I doubt that is still the case. I signed the visitors book in the small stone shelter near the entrance and made my way back in good time to reassure my captain that he still had a full crew for our return journey to Changi.

Since then my wife and two sons have visited Japan and stood at the graveside themselves to pay their respects to a grandfather they never knew. War is an abomination and its curse lasts generations, but the CWGC does wonderful work worldwide to give solace to all who visit its sombre cemeteries. A noble duty and very well done!

[MPN11]

I read the other words, 'Pilot Officer K. Gosling. Pilot. Royal Air Force. 21st July 1944. Age 19'.
Did I say that one should never go back to renew old acquaintances? Well, as you know Keith was a wireless operator like me. Why should it say pilot on the headstone?Perhaps not the first time the rank and role have been mistakenly correlated. Equally, as a "Special", perhaps secrecy was still being imposed?

[Jobza Guddun]

Indeed MPN. I wonder what the crews were briefed to say in the event they were shot down and all 8 were captured. Why would there be 2 WOP/AG on board? I believe some of the Specials were of German descent and perhaps also Jewish? 2 pilots were explained easily by a new skipper flying a second dickie trip or two, but two WOPs would be in for a difficult time with interrogators.

It'd be interesting to know the effect on the CofG and handling of all that equipment and another body in the rear fuselage, or what was traded off - the only thing I can think of would be the ammunition for the turrets, as there's not really any space up front to add anything to counter.

[SLXOwft]

In my possession is a War Office folder with a photograph of the temporary wooden marker and grave reference for my great-uncle who was killed in France in 1916, it enabled my brother and I to visit his grave eighty years later. We always go to visit his grave when we are nearby, having also visited French, German and American war cemeteries I think the CWGC ones have a particular solemn beauty. It long been my opinion that those politicians with responsibility for decisions on war and peace should be made to walk slowly around Tyne Cot, Étaples, Bayeux, Thiepval etc. reading the names.

As an addendum to P/O Brooks story: the other three crew (all RCAF) who died in the loss of LL862-SR-K are buried across the border in Belgium in the Adegem Canadian War Cemetery. P/O E E Boyle RCAF (J/91059) - AG, P/O G T Douglas RCAF (J/94225) - AG, P/O E Ianuziello RCAF (J/91057) - Nav. The others buried in Cambrai are P/O J E M Nixon RCAF (J/91096) - WOp/AG and Sgt I H M Reid RAFVR (1293545) - Flt Eng. (Sgt Ianuziello, WO2 Nixon, Sgt Boyle and Sgt Douglas were all posthumously commissioned with effect from 19 July 1944)

From what I have read the 600 lb ABC package was installed at the rear of bomb bay and the operator sat in the area of the rest bunk under the mid-upper turret and the bomb load was reduced by 1000 lbs. This appears to make sense as this would be close to the CofG. The Germans were aware of ABC and tried ineffective countermeasures. The transmissions increased the vulnerability of the aircraft and account for 101 having the highest casualty rate of any RAF squadron in WW2.

[sycamore]

What flying badge were `Specials` permitted to wear..? W/op,,,?

[SLXOwft]

Sycamore, as a pure guess depending on when initially AG plus wireless operator's sleeve badge or later S(ignaller) or perhaps whatever his previous entitlement had been. Flying Badges except for pilots seem to have been a complete dogs' breakfast in WW2. I refer you to Wg Cdr Jeff Jeffords' article THE LAW, AND LORE, OF RAF FLYING BADGES on pp103ff in the Royal Air Force Historical Society Journal no 52. (https://www.rafmuseum.org.uk/documents/research/RAF-Historical-Society-Journals/Journal-52.pdf)

[SLXOwft]

Geriavator's posts about 101's special duties has prompted me to want to post about the career of the last wartime commanding officer of No.138 (Special Duty) Squadron, whom it was my privilege to know for the last twenty or so years of his life. The life of Wg Cdr T C Murray DSO, DFC* was documented, by Mark Hillier, in Suitcases, Vultures and Spies. Mark has kindly given me permission to quote from the book, which is in large part based on face-to-face interviews with Tucker (as I knew him) and other veterans.

First some background on Thomas Charles Murray. Born in 1918, he began his RAF career in 1937 as a member of B squadron no. 37-1 Entry at Cranwell graduating (or as he put in 'scraping' out due to injuries sustained as the passenger in a car crash ) in December 1938 at the end of the two year course, this was followed by a six week navigation course of which he said :
'Our recently won commissions had, I think, gone to our heads for I remember that we considered this training was no longer really necessary, that this navigation business was 'odd stuff' and not properly the job of pilots anyway!'

To misuse a cricketing metaphor, Thos Murray was one of the few who carried their bats through WW2 flying 'heavies'. Initially posted to 106 Squadron to fly Battles but by the outbreak of war the squadron had converted to the HP Hampden and assigned a training role. Within a short time, he was posted to 49 Squadron; where on 21 December 1939 he flew his first operational sortie as second pilot/navigator of Hampden P1177 flying to the Stavanger area unsuccessfully searching for the Deutschland which had been reported in the area and on which they were supposed to drop 500 pounders. His final op, on the 20 April 1945 - the 16th of his third tour, was a daylight raid on fuel storage in Regensberg flying PP675 one of 100 Lancasters involved. Sadly, less than three weeks before VE Day PA285 of 622 Squadron was lost, presumably to the heavy flak, 7 of her 8 crew were killed.

To take a step back, Thos Murray was the son of an officer who proceeded from the RNVR, through the Royal Marines, to the new Royal Air Force. His father had been involved in the establishment of the secretarial branch and by 1937 had risen to the rank of Group Captain. At the age of 11, when his father was serving at RAF Halton, Thos took his first flight in an Avro 504K. With the connivence of the flying staff and following a medical he began having flying lessons in an AW Atlas. In the final days of his career he flew Canberra T4s and B2s, doing so right up to hs retirement in April 1959. His final flight was on his 95th birthday:

After a gap of nearly 30 years, he … took to the skies once more in a Cessna 172 from Goodwood Airfield in West Sussex. Thos was at home at the controls and landed the aircraft back on runway 24 perfectly. He commented that ‘flying is like riding a bike, you don’t forget it’.

More to follow including a link to the author’s website and an invitation to download an unproofread version of the book in exchange for a donation to RAFA or the RAFBF.

[SLXOwft]

Wg Cdr Murray – Part 2

I shall follow Homer by starting in medias res with an example of Tucker’s mischievous and somewhat stubborn character. This was revealed to me when, in his late eighties, he told me how reluctant he was to comply with his family’s desire he adopt motorboating and stop single-handed sailing.

49 Squadron – RAF Scampton‘I completed 39 operations with 49 Squadron before they tried to post me on a rest. They hadn’t invented tours by then, we reckoned we could keep going until the end, it was our war, and we began it the first operational crews. Suddenly in September four of us were posted to 14 OTU which had just been formed and we were horrified. Our very last operations had been bombing the invasion barges in the Channel ports and to be taken off ops at this stage was an insult. We were pretty tired by then. We just ignored the order and went down to flights carrying on in the normal manner. We managed to do a few more ops, there was a long silence from Group who didn’t know what to do with these mutinous crews. They eventually offered us three weeks tired crew leave. The chance of a rest was welcome news and we jumped at the change.Little did we know, it was their opportunity to clear all our stuff out of our rooms and sent it down to 14 OTU. When we got back from leave there was a lorry waiting to take us all down to the OTU. I left 49 Squadron on the 25 September 1940.’
After 21 of these 39 operations, he had been recommended by his CO for the DFC, the recommendation was endorsed by the AOC of 5 Group, a certain AVM Arthur Harris, as follows:‘most strongly recommended, an outstanding efficient and resolute pilot.’


14 OTU – RAF Cottesmore
14 OTU’s job was to convert pilots to the Hampden via the Anson. There was only one flying position meaning the students had to observe the instructor until the instructor had enough faith to let him loose.‘This posting has a so called rest tour. We were the first operational pilots to be posted into the OTU as instructors. We were regarded with the utmost suspicion by the CFI and junior squadron instructors alike. We were expected to protest at the training syllabus and we did. We were doubtless arrogant and unruly but I think the unit benefitted nevertheless. I was not a good instructor and soon found to my disgust that each pupil invariably made the same mistake, thus making flying a monotonous affair.’‘I was then selected for a squadron that was being formed entirely of second tour crews to man the new Avro Manchester’
Six months to the day of his arrival at 14 OTU Thos Murray left for RAF Waddington and 207 Squadron.

To be continued

[SLXOwft]

Wg Cdr Murray – Part 3

207 Squadron – RAF Waddington

The squadron had reformed on 1 November 1940 the CO Wg Cdr N C ‘Hetty’ Hyde had gone with a number of officers and NCOs to learn about the Manchester at Boscombe Down.‘The first crews found it was very difficult taking a new aircraft and getting it read for operational use, as many design issues had to be ironed out and modifications made before it could take to the skies over Europe. On 24 February 1941, …’
By the time Flying Officer T C Murray arrived on 5 April 1941, 207 Squadron had experienced technical faults and poor performance making it clear the Manchester was not the great leap forward promised. Things were made no better when the CO was shot down in a raid on Kiel, he was sent to Stalag Luft III where he assisted in the Wooden Horse escape. This was followed by the Manchester being grounded while the suspicion that the wrong alloy had been used to make the main bearings in the engines was investigated. On 1 May Thos had the first of six training sorties prior to his first operation flying L7381 EM-R.‘My first operation was to Mannheim on the 9th May 1941, which was a successful operation. There were three aircraft operating from the squadron, two went to Berlin but as I was inexperienced I was sent to Mannheim on which I dropped a cookie (4,000 lb bomb). After the war I knew exactly what damage I did on the target as the Germans kept very good records of raids and the damage caused.’
Troubles with the ill-fated Manchester were far from over.‘On the 15th May, Thos picked up a Manchester from Boscombe Down but shortly after the whole fleet was grounded again, on the 17th May, mainly due to the same old engine trouble and it was decided to carry out intensive training flights to monitor engine behaviour. Thos took off on the 24th May on one such sortie.

‘By now losses were beginning to rise inexorably, so Group gave the unprecedented instruction that wireless operators, should it be possible, were to transmit in clear. FLK – for flack, FIT for fighter or ENG for engines to indicate the cause of their loss!

In that month it was decided to fly one Manchester (L7393 EM-V) continually on triangular cross countries around England until one engine failed with the hope we could get one back and Rolls Royce could analyse the cause.

It was the turn of my flight commander Squadron Leader Mackintosh to have a go, he had turned north of Land’s End towards the Isle of Man, when halfway to the Welsh coast the starboard engine failed, caught fire and he feathered the prop. The nearest airfield was Perranporth, a small fighter strip about 40 miles away. He couldn’t maintain height but he ordered the crew to chuck out the guns and drop the dummy bomb load to reduce weight. Fortunately, they just made it back. They roared down the runway where he retracted the undercarriage in an effort to stop. He careered through a hedge and finally the starboard wing hit a parked lorry which finally stopped them. So Rolls Royce had their engine. I had to fly down and pick the crew up the following day.’
The book contains and extend passage on Tucker’s view of the Manchester, I will just quote from the first two paragraphs.‘We converted to type on the unit. My first impression was that it was a very big aircraft compared to the Hampden. Although it was pleasant to fly, light on the controls, it was colossally underpowered. The senior staff had a great belief in the engines. When they first did a run up when they were testing the aircraft they put barriers behind it to stop people getting blown over by the prop wash. In reality, nothing like that happened. Our training was on the squadron and not that methodical, we learnt as we went along. These were desperate times so the aircraft was rushed into service long before it was fit and whilst it had many teething problems. The Manchester was light on the ailerons, lighter than the Lancaster but unfortunately not at all reliable.

The first Manchester we had was the three tail variety; this had a problem with tail flutter. I had to return from one operation because the rear gunner got really worried that the tail was about to come off, although I didn’t feel it through the controls. A number of aircraft were lost because of it. Later they extended the fins and had just the twin tail adding about 12 feet to the tail. That was not the worst of the problem, the propellor feathering system was unreliable and could fail to feather or they would suddenly lock into fine pitch.’
Tucker was soon to get a vision of the future courtesy of the co-located 44 squadron.‘A most welcome interlude occurred on the 4th October 1941 when Peter Burton-Gyles and I were able to get our hands on the prototype Lancaster which had just been loaned to 44 squadron as they were the first to be re-armed with the aircraft.

Lancaster BT308 was basically a three finned Manchester with the wings extended to accommodate its four Merlin engines. The extra throttle and pitch controls were just metal tube alongside the Manchester controls. With no turrets, radio or navigational equipment it was empty aa a shell an as light as a feather. It took off like a startled stallion. It flew happily on one of its four engines and in steep turns with both inside engines feathered. What a tonic after the lumbering Manchester.’
Tucker’s good friend Peter Burton-Gyles would go on the be CO of 488 squadron and of 23 squadron. He has been listed as missing in action since he failed to return from a mission flying Mosquito DB.VI HJ832 with P/O Eric John Layh RAAF on 10 December 1943. They disappeared over the sea en route to attack rail/road targets in the area of Genoa-Milan-Turin.

When Tucker told me the story of flying BT308 he imparted that using the additional throttles was painful, if I recall correctly drawing blood through his flying glove.

I will post more extracts but if you want to get ahead or indeed read the whole book, then you can download a pre-publication version of Suitcase, Vultures and Spies in pdf format from https://www.markhillier.net/about-the-book.php. You need to scroll down past the picture of the cover to find the link. Please note that this is a pre-proof reading (and I suspect pre-copyediting) version.

The hard copy of the book was sold to raise funds for the RAF Benevolent Fund, so I ask that you comply with Mark’s request to make a suitable donation to either RAFA or the Benevolent Fund.

[Geriaviator]

Thanks for the pointer Paul, this looks an interesting book, I haven't seen anything about Manchester handling although it was clearly bad news otherwise. Donation plus Giftaid made to RAFA.

[SLXOwft]

Page 54 on is where you will find it. The layout changed quite a bit in the final printed book e.g. Cuthbert Orde's picture of Tucker is full page. I am grateful to Mark for persuading Tucker to let him write it; as Mark said, Tucker wasn't one to line shoot and I only ever got hints, he was determined to live in the present, not the past, and keep active - partly out to duty to those friends and comrades he had lost and because, as he told me, he felt very lucky to have survived.

[Chugalug2]

What a genius Roy Chadwick was, to turn this dangerous and utterly compromised aircraft into the war winning masterpiece it became!

[SLXOwft]

Wg Cdr Murray - Part 4

207 Squadron – RAF Bottesford

After his flight in BT308 Tucker flew a few more missions before the squadron moved to RAF Bottesford (roughly halfway between Newark-on-Trent and Grantham).‘In November 1941 we moved to RAF Bottesford. After the pre-war luxury of RAF Waddington this was a severe shock to th system. Damp Nissen huts in dispersals for sleeping quarters, a central Nissen hut site for messes and ablutions, all separated from each other and the operations site by a mile or so of muddy paths. Woe betide you if you strayed of a perimeter track when taxiing out; the wheel would sink axle deep in mud, blocking any following aircraft. I was in short misery.That month, the decision was made to cancel any further development of the Vulture engine, much to the relief of Rolls Royce. (…) there was no prospect of any improvement in the aircraft’s abysmal performance.’After a quiet December, operations resumed early in the new year. The first was ‘eventful’.‘On the 2 January 1942 I was back flying Manchesters and we had been briefed to do a low level attack on the Prinz Eugen in the harbour at St Nazaire. After some difficulty finding the target due to low cloud cover we started to run in through heavy flak at about 1,500 feet. I selected bomb doors open and the hydraulics failed. They only opened a little bit so we did everything we could to get these damn doors open, but as we roared over the battleship not doing any harm to it at all but getting all the attention. There was heavy flak and we were hit several times.''We got quite a bit of damage and the navigator was not any use at all. I’m not sure if the lights failed in his compartment, so I worked out a route home and the wireless operator got out a distress call. As we neared the coast, our searchlight batteries came on and pointed us in the direction of the nearest airfield which was Exeter. This was only a fighter station with a short grass strip. On approach I found that due to the hydraulic failure neither the undercarriage nor the flaps would come down so I had to blow down the undercarriage using the emergency system. We still had a full bomb load, I didn’t know if the bombs had fused or not. This meant a high speed flapless landing with the inability to retract the undercarriage should it be necessary to slow the aircraft down after landing. I managed to make full use of the landing run and fortunately the brakes still worked so I was able to avoid any further damage to the aircraft. That was the smoothest landing I ever did and the most nerve-wracking.’The squadron operational record book notes it was the Navigator’s first op and ‘he had difficulty pinpointing himself’ over then target.

A week later Tucker was over Brest trying to bomb Scharnhorst or Gneisenau through 10/10 cloud.

January brought good news with the formation of 207 conversion flight. The flight had a dual role, training replacement crews and converting existing crews to the Lancaster.‘Despite all the tinkering and alterations to the Manchester the engines were really never any good and caused the death of a number of crews. Thos reckons his chances of engine failure were reduced due to his method of handling the engines,‘The technique those days was to fly with high boost and low revs which in theory gave the best range on the aircraft. It meant that the engines gave the best range on the aircraft. It meant that the engines were trundling around in top gear at low speed, so I reversed the procedure against standing orders and used to fly my aircraft at high revs and low boost, so it whined a bit and used more fuel but it seemed to be a bit happier and that’s why I reckon I survived much longer than other people.’At 1430 on 12 February the Channel Dash was in progress and Tucker was briefed for a bombing mission against the ships; on take-off hydraulic fluid sprayed into the cockpit. Tucker landed safely and thanks to the herculean efforts of the ground crew L7485/EM-D (the same aircraft as 2 January) took off at 2252 to go GARDENING at NECTARINE (drop mines off the Friesian Islands) another hydraulic failure meant S/Ldr Murray returned with a full load of mines at 0443. According to the ORB all four assigned crews had a frustrating night:

· R7596/EM-W, P/O Doble - dropped his ‘vegetables’ but they failed to fuse.

· L7392/EM-Y, S/Ldr Beauchamp - failure of hydraulics and manual release returned with mines.

· L7515/EM-S, F/O Leland - returned with his mines due to severe icing.

Tucker would complete the final three of his 20 ops in the Manchester before the squadron was stood down to convert to the Lancaster. His final Manchester operational flight was in L7378/EM-A to Essen. Some of the first wave were equipped with Gee and dropped flares followed by incendiaries.'The night of the 8 of March was one of the worst trips I had to the Ruhr. I had been here many times before. The target was the Krupps factory at Essen and I could see the main force bombing a dummy target 10 miles north of Essen. I was watching these aircraft but I manged to drop my bombs at the Krupps factory, the actual target. My photo flash went off and I could see I was on target, but the intelligence people said the photo didn’t come out clearly as they wouldn’t dare admit that the main force had bombed a dummy target. At that point the whole of the Essen anti-aircraft defence opened up. Until then they had been quite hoping I would go away I think.'Luckily for me one of the other members of the squadron was behind me so at least two aircraft got their bombs on target. I did everything I could to get out of that flak. I really thought we had had it, I dived down from 22,000 feet to 3,000 feet to get out, I threw all my experience at it, I actually wept at the time, not for me but for betraying the crew. I was an experienced operational pilot and everything I knew didn’t seem to work. Then all went quiet, they gave up or I got out of range and I flew back at low level. We got badly peppered and had quite a bit of damage when we got back. The Germans were good at setting spoof fires to distract the bombers it was quite common.'‘Of those bombers who took part, 168 claimed they had bombed the target but in reality the brunt of the attack fell on the southern outskirts and the neighbouring towns of Hamborn, Duisberg and Oberhausen.’The ORB record for L7378 on 8/9.3.43 says the target was identified after some difficulty by reference to the shape of the river and other landmarks. Flt/Sgt (?) Walker in L7491/ EM-O is recorded as using a pin-point on the river to identify the target so it may well have been the other aircraft referred to.

[Ian Burgess-Barber]

"I really thought we had had it, I dived down from 22,000 feet to 3,000 feet to get out, I threw all my experience at it, I actually wept at the time, not for me but for betraying the crew. I was an experienced operational pilot and everything I knew didn’t seem to work".


In reading all the previous posts about "Tucker" I had not warmed to his character at all, despite his obvious courage. How easy it is to make a judgement based on a laconic account without really knowing the man. Tonight's post has changed this reader's assessment - respect is due.

Ian BB

[Union Jack]

And here's (https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/0/bomber-pilot-says-youth-today-scattier-than-my-generation/) one who fully merits the title of this outstanding thread - airborne in a Spitfire at 102!:ok:

Jack

[Chugalug2]

Interesting that he operated the Vulture engines in direct contravention to the official procedure. It would seem that he didn't share his ideas with higher authority in order to extend others lives (never mind the engines!) as he did for his own crew. Was it because he would just be given a direct order to operate the engines as instructed? Rather reminiscent of Fighter Command's insistence on flying in tight vee formations, requiring total pilot concentration to do so rather than being free to sweep the skies for enemy aircraft. The cognoscenti soon learned to fly in a similar manner to their battle hardened opponents, leaving the more gullible as so much canon fodder. It seems that self preservation is a strong motivation in war. Yes, you do your duty of course, but with a determination to see that you can go on doing so for every subsequent day too!

It also seems that the Manchester had unreliable hydraulics as well as engines. Why should that be? Presumably it used the same components as other ME aircraft of the time; tanks, pumps, hoses, selectors, NRVs, actuators, etc. Why would it account for so many compromised missions as he lists? Icing, yes. The systems were prone to being overcome by heavy icing, no matter what the installed type was. Pulsating 'boots' that the enveloping ice simply ignored as it added more and more weight and disrupted the airflow, often bring the aircraft down out of control.

[Geriaviator]

Chug, I don't think WW2 aircraft had de-icing other than Kilfrost paste which is like a brown grease to smear along leading edges and props. It was still available in the 1960s, a brave friend used it on his Cherokee in the airways. One thankfully brief but terrifying experience with freezing level 4000ft so plenty of room to descend and thaw out was enough for me and I still wonder how those who posted on this thread make so little reference to icing.

[Ian Burgess-Barber]

Having just scrutinised the wonderful cutaway drawing of the Lancaster (done by Jimmy Clark during WW2) in my copy of "Classic WW2 Aircraft Cutaways" by Bill Gunston, I can report that the only ice protection to be seen on the aircraft is the pair of 'Anti-Icing Glycol Window Sprays' in front of the cockpit screens.

Ian BB
Avro York (derived from Lanc.) unsurprisingly, had same 'windscreen washer' de-icers. However, US B-17 and B-24s were fitted with 'Boots'. It seems that there are records of experienced B-17 crews in European Theatre having the 'Boots' removed as they caused both drag and flutter when they had been shredded by 'Flack'.

[Chugalug2]

Thanks for the updates Geriaviator and IBB. You live and you learn! Recalling the inadequacy of the Hastings aerofoil de-icing system (fluid pumped from a tank to distributors on the leading edges of wings, tailplanes, and fin) as it was totally ignored by the ice as we battled north in cloud up the Rhone valley against the Mistral wind, I imagined that it was simply inherited, like so many of the systems and components of the Hastings, from the Halifax. I now discover it was 'state of the art' it seems! The props had 'slingers' to feed fluid along the blades but what affect that had you were never quite sure as centrifugal force alone seemed to fling off the ice, resulting in it being hurled against the fuselage sides to the great alarm of crew and pax alike. Thoughtful of them to provide for windscreen anti-icing in WWII so that you could at least look ahead as you were forced ever downwards as a/c AUW inexorably increased as the lift decreased!

As you say, Geriaviator, a wonder that not more mention is made of it. A known known, I guess. Don't fly into CBs, avoid icing conditions, end of? It must have affected planning missions. If the met man warned of icing conditions on the planned routeing. Did they go anyway, reroute, or postpone for another night? And of course, met forecasts for flights over enemy territory had its own challenges.

[Chugalug2]

And here's (https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/0/bomber-pilot-says-youth-today-scattier-than-my-generation/) one who fully merits the title of this outstanding thread - airborne in a Spitfire at 102!:ok:

Jack
Behind a paywall UJ. Hope this works :-

Former bomber pilot, who served in Second World War, becomes oldest person to fly the fighter
RAF hero, 102, soars again with flight in Spitfire

It’s almost impossible for younger generations to imagine the skies being filled with the roar of Spitfires, let alone fathom the idea of signing up to go to war.
Jack Hemmings doesn’t recall feeling frightened when he joined the RAF in 1940 at 18 – he trusted that the training he had received would prepare him for whatever the Second World War threw at him.
Going to war “made me grow up a bit I suppose”, said Mr Hemmings, a former RAF squadron leader, who yesterday became the oldest person to fly a Spitfire, at 102.
A bomber pilot during the Second World War, he was stationed in Kolkata with 353 Squadron to protect the Bay of Bengal and the coast of Burma – as it was then known – until1946, and received the Air Force Cross for “exemplary gallantry while flying”.
This year will mark 80 years since the Battle of Kohima – the turning point of the Japanese offensive into India, where Mr Hemmings was stationed. He is one of only two remaining members of his squadron.
Last month, Gen Sir Patrick Sanders, the Chief of the General Staff , implored ministers to “mobilise the nation”, suggesting the country’s defences could be strengthened by bringing back conscription, which was suspended in 1960.
What could younger generations learn from Mr Hemmings? “Who’s to say that our generation was any better than theirs?” he said, speaking at Biggin Hill airfield, in Kent, before his flight. “But, by and large, I think the present generation are a bit scatty.”
He added: “Going to war, your mind is concentrating on what you’re doing, which is your part in the war. You apply your mind to your task and do it as well as you can.”
As the Spitfire roared into life yesterday, you could feel the power of its Merlin engine. But as soon as you take off , Mr Hemmings said, there is a great sense of peace that comes with being airborne. “Once you’re off the ground and away from controlled airspace, the sky is yours,” he said. “You get all sorts of emotions.”
It has been 84 years since Mr Hemmings, now a grandfather of three, first took to the skies.
He might not have been fazed by much at 18, but at 102, you could have forgiven him for being daunted by the prospect of clambering into a cockpit and taking to the skies.
However, as soon as he received the signal to board, he bounded out of his wheelchair and strode towards the aircraft in his khaki flying suit with the vim and vigour of a man at least20 years younger. Yesterday’s
‘Who’s to say that our generation was any better than theirs? But I think the present generation are a bit scatty’
flight was by no means the first time in 80 years Mr Hemmings had been airborne. He bought a small aircraft after his retirement and, on his 100th birthday in 2021, performed an aerobatic display in a Slingsby Firefly – a surprise gift from his wife, Kate.
In 2022, he flew a 1947 Gemini – the same model he had taken to Africa in 1948 in what was the first British mission to assess humanitarian needs in isolated communities dotted across the continent.
Setting out with a map, a compass and only the River Nile as their guide, he and his friend Stuart King, who had been at D-day, visited more than 100 mission outposts separated from vital resources by jungles and deserts. They crashed on a mountainside in Burundi, a moment Mr Hemmings – who once nicknamed himself “Crasher Jack” – remembers vividly.
“The surprising thing was we smacked the ground at 100 miles an hour, into a totally undeveloped hillside,” he said. “We could have gone straight into an enormous boulder or tree but we went into rough ground and didn’t burst into flames and the lid in the door opened quite simply.
“Neither of us was injured except I had a bruise on my thigh where it hit the throttle and Stuart had a cut on his little finger.”
They founded Mission Aviation Fellowship, the world’s largest humanitarian air service, which still delivers aid and medical help in low-income countries.
Coming into land after his 30-minute flight, Mr Hemmings wore a look of pure contentment on his face.
His co-pilot, Barry Hughes, had handed over the controls mid-flight. “I don’t think he’s lost his touch,” he said.
How did Mr Hemmings find it? “Absolutely delightful,” he said. “Slightly heavier than I expected. We were flying at about 210 knots, which is faster than I used to fly in my Air Force days.
“I was a bit rusty. Not surprisingly, as I am rusty.”

[SLXOwft]

Trust the press to get the facts wrong. 353 (T) Squadron was a transport squadron for which Jack Hemmings flew Dakotas, Hudsons and Ansons. I have deep respect for those who flew in operational areas in aircraft that couldn't shoot back . The ORB for March 1944 has F/L Hemmings, J.S. flying Hudsons both Mk.III and Mk.VI. (Granted Hudsons and Ansons were armed but the ORB suggests they were being used as trucks by 353)

His final duties were in the RAFVR(T), resigning his commission with the right to retain his rank as squadron leader in 1975.

[Storkie]

I don't have memories being a baby-boomer, but I can recommend the book 'First in the Indian skies" by Norman L R Franks, the history of 31 Sqn. 31 were equipped with Dakotas and involved with supporting the Chindits and also flying 'The Hump' to China.
One of their pilots, Mike Vlasto ( who used to live in my then village in Somerset ) was IIRC the first to land a Dakota in a jungle clearing and take-off again with wounded soldiers.
Another book on my shelf mentions Vlasto and I note that your father is mentioned several times - 'War in the Wilderness' by Tony Redding.

Just before my father Flying Officer David Margerison died in 2013 I remembered that he had told me that one day after landing at RAF Kunming he was met by an American Officer, who said your driving to which my father replied that he did not have a licence the American said that he was not to worry, and that he just should not stop if he knocked any Chinese over! On the way to the base he noticed a camera man that was shooting a film, and he said he often wondered what the film was about. I did some research, and found 'Over The Hump' in which he appears as the jeep driver. I went to the home, and showed the film to my Dad. He saw WCo 'Flossy' Wyatt whom my father had flown with as Wop Ag on Wellingtons early in the war, and then Sq Ldr Vlasto oh yes he said that's old Vlasto, and then he said where did you get this. I said that it's in the IWM oh he said he always wondered. My father was at RAF DUM DUM and for about a year he was dropping supplies. Then he was put on the VIP crew of Lt General Adrian Carton de Wiatt. He was a sergeant and the general called him in one day, and said that all his crew were officers. At that point my father thought he was for the chop, but he said so I'm sending you to be commissioned, and that he would have to find his own way back to blighty!
The pilot in charge of the VIP crew was Flt Lt W. J. Noble 'Paddy' from Belfast. He had been a spitfire pilot and is named on the London Battle of Britain Memorial. After the war he became a GP in Sutton, Surrey he died in 1995. He used to write to my father for a while after the war. I wonder if he has family? As a young lad 18 - 23. I was an airman assistant air traffic controller, and then left to do degrees and lots of other things. Time has induced something of a glow over that period of my life, however at the time I was only concerned with achieving objectives in education. I think this is the way of youth.
Dr Paul Margerison PhD

[Storkie]

I don't have memories being a baby-boomer, but I can recommend the book 'First in the Indian skies" by Norman L R Franks, the history of 31 Sqn. 31 were equipped with Dakotas and involved with supporting the Chindits and also flying 'The Hump' to China.
One of their pilots, Mike Vlasto ( who used to live in my then village in Somerset ) was IIRC the first to land a Dakota in a jungle clearing and take-off again with wounded soldiers.
Another book on my shelf mentions Vlasto and I note that your father is mentioned several times - 'War in the Wilderness' by Tony Redding.
I'm not sure if that was my father as there was a Sgt Andrew Margerison from Blackburn in the same 'theatre' who wrote a book about his experiences over the hump etc; My father only gave us a few choice snippets of his experiences when we were growing up. I know that flying in the conditions they incurred had a major impact on his health shortly after the war, and his fitness to fly may well have been rescinded as attacks of giddiness left him unable to stand up, with bouts of severe sickness. The doctor did not know what was causing at the time, and I remember coming downstairs one morning to find him slumped in a chair as white as a sheet. The doctor had thought it might be something to do with his heart, and had prescribed Amyl Nitrate. As instructed he had crushed the ampoule into a handkerchief and taken a deep breath. It had completely knocked him out. No more of that he croaked. Another time my mother found him in the pantry which was off the bottom of the stairs where he had plunged after passing out. Eventually they discovered it was Menniers. I don't know what happened as I was about maybe 7 at the time, but he seemed to get over it until later in life he became deaf in his right ear. I remember him telling me that they used to have terrible turbulence. One time in particular he said they dropped 5000ft in an instant and only recovered close to the ground. He said that he was sending morse at the time, and he found himself up against the roof with the morse key in his hand that had been bolted to the table! He was offered a permanent commission starting again as a PO, but I think one of the things that motivated him to leave the RAF was the worry that they would ground him, and he'd be deskbound. He used to say that the admin wallahs used to bang on about how the flyers were only bloody general duties, and they were the people who kept it all going! I remember getting a very similar drubbing from a flt lt when I arrived at one posting. Well we all like to be valued, and not be left out!
Storkie.

[Chugalug2]

Just before my father Flying Officer David Margerison died in 2013 I remembered that he had told me that one day after landing at RAF Kunming he was met by an American Officer, who said your driving to which my father replied that he did not have a licence the American said that he was not to worry, and that he just should not stop if he knocked any Chinese over! On the way to the base he noticed a camera man that was shooting a film, and he said he often wondered what the film was about. I did some research, and found 'Over The Hump' in which he appears as the jeep driver. I went to the home, and showed the film to my Dad. He saw WCo 'Flossy' Wyatt whom my father had flown with as Wop Ag on Wellingtons early in the war, and then Sq Ldr Vlasto oh yes he said that's old Vlasto, and then he said where did you get this.
Dr Paul Margerison PhD
Thanks for the heads up Storkie. The short British Pathe film Over The Hump (presumably shot for showing in their Cinema Newsreel) is on YouTube and attached here, including the triumphal entry of your father at Kunming! :-

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hwESWIGYvfc

[Storkie]

Yes shame he only just realised before he died. There was a ww2 flt Sgt who was on Lancs in the home where he last resided, and apparently he was very depressed my father picked up with him, and his daughter came to see my younger brother to thank him for helping him so much. It's marvellous what a bit of old comradeship can do on the final flight!