╨╧рб▒с>■  vx■   u                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                ье┴s ┐▐Xjbjb└ └ %╕кkкk▐T      ]ЦЦЦЦЦЦЦ>>>>> J>нъrrrrrrrrjllllll,ЧЇЛмШЦrrrrrШ╨ЦЦrrr╨╨╨r▄ЦrЦrjкJЇJЦЦЦЦrj╨Ъ╨jЦЦjf rl╗>>NВj Chapter VIII - Bloody April, 1942 We meet 'neath the sounding rafters, the walls all around are bare; They echo the peals of laughter, it seems that the dead are there. RFC Mess Song, France 1916-18 For Bomber Command, 1942 was a year of re-equipment, with the introduction of the four-engined heavies. By the end of the year the Hampdens and Whitleys had gone, their place taken by the Stirling, Halifax and Lancaster, but it was April before No. 214 converted to the Short Stirling. The Battle of the Atlantic was at its height. It was not until mid-1943 that we gained ascendancy over the U-boat, and were able to safeguard our shipborne supplies. Meanwhile, the Ruhr towns became the Command's priority targets. The first 1,000-bomber raid on Cologne, on May 30, 1942 brought a new dimension to the war in the air, which had far-reaching effects both on the enemy and ourselves. January was usually a quiet month for operations, due to the weather factor, but the Squadron still managed to take part in several raids. Two crews were lost, one on Hamburg the night of January 15/16, and the other on Munster, January 28/29. On Febuary 12, the German battle cruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau and cruiser Prinz Eugen made a dash from Brest to the northern ports of Germany, travelling up through the English Channel, a ploy not expected by our defences. A major alert was sounded. Air and naval units tried their utmost to sink these capital ships, but to no avail.They made good their escape, much to the chagrin of our military leaders. However, although not known at the time, both the Scharnhorst and the Gneisenau were badly damaged by mines sown in their path by RAF bombers. The Prinz Eugen and the Gneisenau, after this action, took no further part in the war. The Scharnhorst was repaired and made one further sortie, only to be intercepted and sunk by ships of the Royal Navy. W/Cdr McFadden DFC, the Squadron's CO, was pilot of one of the aircraft which took off for a daylight strike against these ships on February 12. He was accompanied by S/Ldr Stephens DFC, OC 3 Group Training Flight; F/Lt Hughes DFC, Station Navigation Officer, P/O J. Wood, and sergeants Everett, Murray and Taylor. They carried out a search off the Dutch coast. It is not clear whether they sighted their targets or made contact with them, but a message was received at base saying they had engine trouble. There was no further news. The aircraft failed to return. but two days later the crew was picked up by German naval vessels, all but one dead from exposure. The rear gunner, Sgt Murray, was in a perilous state but survived and was taken prisoner. With the loss of its Commanding Officer, the Squadron was taken over temporarily by W/Cdr Davy, succeeded after a few weeks by W/Cdr Knocker. 214's bad luck continued. On the night of July 2/3, the new CO perished with his crew over Holland when they were attacked and shot down by a night fighter. On the night of March 3/4, Bomber Command attacked the Renault factory at Baillancourt, on the outskirts of Paris. This was the first occasion on which it employed a large concentration of bombers over a target in a given time schedule. The moonlight raid proved to be the most successful operation to date. 235 aircraft were dispatched, eight of which were sent from 214. At the de-briefing, the crews reported that they had attacked below 6000 feet, and had seen debris thrown up and wrecked workshops enveloped in flames. Lubeck, a port on the Baltic, was the first German city to feel the full weight of a fire attack, when 234 bombers were sent out on March 28/29. Because of the many wooden buildings in the town it was decided to carry a large quantity of incendiaries. The ratio was 144 tons of incendiaries to 160 tons of high explosives. Another innovation was to send the aircraft in to the target at half-hourly intervals. The idea was to let the conflagration, started by the first wave, act as a beacon and an aiming point for the second wave. Though 13 bombers were lost by the Command this night, (none from 214), the raid was a complete success, and set the pattern for later fire attacks against German cities. Operation Lineshoot, an appropriate name for an attack on rail targets in the Hanau area of Germany, took place on the night of April 1. It proved to be the most costly in the Squadron's history and can only be described as the start to Bloody April. The crews involved were mainly from 3 Group. 20 aircraft were sent out by 57 Squadron, based at Feltwell, 14 from 214 Squadron, Stradishall. It was arranged that 214 would attack at low level, and 57 Squadron from higher altitudes. The full moon phase was ideal for positive target identification, but it was also perfect for the German defences, as our bombers found out to their cost. Group Captain Dermot Boyle, later Marshal of the Royal Air Force Sir Dermot Boyle, GCB, KCVO, KBE, CBE, AFC, the popular Station Commander at Stradishall, was a man who believed in total involvement with the Squadrons under his command. This included sharing the dangers of his crews by taking part in operations. There was no need for him to fly at all. In fact, officers above the rank of Wing Commander were positively discouraged from flying. But G/Cpt Boyle was not the type of person to be shackled by restrictions. By his example he was an inspiration to all personnel who served under him. This night was one of many on which he chose to fly with the Squadron. His account follows: "The operation in question was not on my initiative. We received our orders for such operations from Bomber Command HQ through Group HQ. The decision, to take part personally, was mine. This was what I think was called a nuisance raid, designed, in addition to causing damage, to give enemy defences no respite, and to keep the Germans in their shelters. There was one other Station involved that night in a similar operation and they too had high casualties. The trouble was that it was a crystal clear moonlit night and we anticipated it would be difficult. "I believe that after this operation it was decided that these small operations were too vulnerable, and that the way to defeat the enemy defences was to saturate them by concentrating large numbers of aircraft in time and space. The losses that night were tragic for the Squadron, the Station, and for me." Another person who took part in this raid was Harry Ward, an observer with Sgt Wreford-Smith, whose plane, T Tommy Z1068, was the last to take off. Harry recalls: "Our crew was the fourteenth to be airborne, at 2100 hours. We flew low level to the Dutch coast, by which time the Germans were well aware that something was up, as 13 aircraft had shot over their area at regular five minute intervals. We were met by searchlights and intense light flak, which scared the living daylights out of us and caused much damage to our aircraft. Amazingly, no crew member was hit, but it was impossible to continue on to Hanau with the controls sluggish and the aircraft difficult to handle. We flew away from the area over Bruges to the mouth of the Schelde, jettisoned bombs, and turned for home. We sent an SOS as we did not expect the aircraft to be airborne for long. However, we made it, flying into a strong head wind. We had no brakes and on landing ended up past the runway with the special delayed-action bomb unjettisoned. The aircraft was a complete write-off." Harry Ward also flew on ops on April 12 and 14. Both were dicey. In the first raid his aircraft, 'W' Z1169, suffered severe flak damage. A forced landing was made at Manston and the aircraft written off. After conversion to Stirlings, he was posted to No. 161 Sqdn, Tempsford. On October 22 his pilot, Wreford-Smith, was killed in a crash which put Harry in hospital for the next two years. Two other members of his crew lost their lives in separate incidents. Returning to the raid of April 1, Operation Lineshoot, the thirteen remaining aircraft meanwhile had pressed on to search for the various rail targets around Hanau. How many arrived in the area and successfully bombed their targets is not known, but the German light flak was scoring heavily and the remaining aircraft were either suffering heavy damage or had already crashed into the German countryside. In all, seven crews were lost and of these only one man survived to become a POW. This was Sgt Davidson of F/Sgt Page's crew. The remaining six aircraft made it back to England, luckily carrying no casualties, although the planes themselves had sustained heavy punishment and needed extensive repairs. No. 57 Squadron also suffered excessive losses in this night's joint venture with 214. Of the 20 Wellingtons that set out, five did not return. Essen was the next town to be visited by 214. This was on April 10th and of the seven planes sent out, one was lost Ц P/O Murray's crew. Four nights later six crews attacked Dortmund and Sgt Lawrence and his crew failed to return. Dortmund was again the venue the following night and of the five crews which went out, only four returned, P/O Leech and crew being shot down. By this time, the Squadron's progression was reminiscent of the Agatha Christie play, the "Ten Little Indians", and on April 28th the final act was played out when four aircraft were sent to Kiel and Sgt Sampson's crew was lost. So ended 214's Bloody April. There is no doubt that these losses had a profound effect on both air and groundcrew. The officer responsible for entering up the Operational Record book, as if feeling that casualties should not be shown in case they would undermine morale, only recorded those aircraft and crews which returned from operations. He omitted to make any reference whatsoever to those who had gone missing. In case the reader thinks that all the Squadron's aircrew were thrown into April's battles, it must be mentioned here that by the middle of the month a conversion to Stirlings was under way and, on the 14th, S/Ldr Carr was the first pilot chosen to convert onto the new four-engined bomber. During the first part of May, conversion was in full swing and on the 18th the first Stirling sortie was made. This was a mining trip in the North Sea. All mining trips were known as Gardening and the various sea sectors were given vegetable or other horticultural names. In this instance the sea sector to be visited was known as Rosemary (Heligoland). There were also Artichokes, Onions, etc., and the mines themselves were referred to as Vegetables. Other targets visited later in May were St Nazaire, Mannheim and Gennevilliers, but these raids were dwarfed in comparison with the big one that was being planned for the end of May: Millenium, later known as the Thousand Bomber Raid. This massive attack on Cologne, on the night of May 30/31, was a raid which moved into a new dimension, shaped future policy of Bomber Command, and heralded the era of area bombing. For the recently appointed Commander in Chief of Bomber Command, Air Chief Marshal Harris, it was a critical time. The War Office contended that the heavy bombers should be sent to the Middle East and North Africa, to help our sorely pressed forces in the Mediterranean war zone. The Admiralty argued that all heavies should be used to combat the U-boat menace. Certain members of the Government were also averse to Bomber Command's policy of strategic bombing, and were highly critical of its performance up to that time. Harris decided on a gamble to convince his detractors and planned a saturation attack on a major German city, either Hamburg or Cologne. He would use all available aircraft under his command, which included training aircraft at OTUs and Conversion Units, crewed by instructors and pupils. In his book 'Bomber Offensive', Harris has this to say: "The dangers were many and obvious. If anything went seriously wrong Ц and this was to be in many ways a wholly new type of operation Ц then I would be committing not only the whole of my front line strength but absolutely all my reserves in a single battle. Our whole programme of training and expansion might conceivably be wrecked, and in any case I had very seriously to consider the inevitable interference with normal training that would occur while the force was being organised for this special purpose. "As against its dangers, the advantage of a successful operation on such a scale would be great. If we succeeded we should have before us a definite and attainable goal; a measure of what could be achieved as soon as our expansion really began. The result of using an adequate bomber force against Germany would be there for all the world to see and I should be able to press for the aircraft, crews and equipment we needed with far more effect than by putting forward theoretical arguments, however convincing, in favour of hitting the enemy where it hurt most. "Such a demonstration was, in fact, the only argument I could see which was at all likely to prevent our squadrons from being snatched away and our effort diverted to subsidiary targets; or to extract the equipment we so sorely needed, the radar navigational aids and the target indicators, from the torpid departments which held them for so long. But it was not only, of course, a question of convincing those in power that bombing could be a decisive weapon. From such an operation we should also learn a number of tactical lessons of the greatest possible value; lessons which could not be learnt in any other way and without which we could not prepare for the main offensive. "As to the harm such an attack might do to the enemy, this would no doubt be considerable, even though it was obvious that Germany, with the industries of the Reich undamaged and the resources of all Europe at her disposal, would be able to restore any lost production in a comparatively short space of time. Not one or two such strokes, but the cumulative effects of hundreds of them would be needed before the enemy felt the pinch. On the other hand, there was a good chance that morale would be affected by the first real heavy blow to get through the main defences of Germany." The last few days in May proved to be cloudy and thundery over Germany. Harris could not keep his great force of mobilised bombers at the alert indefinitely. By May 30th there was a chance of better weather over the Rhineland. Cologne, an easily identifiable target on the Rhine, was decided upon. 1,047 aircraft were dispatched, 366 of which were from training units. 898 of the total claimed to have attacked the target. On the route out the weather was bad, with icing conditions, but the cloud cleared over Holland and the last part of the journey was made in bright moonlight. The conditions were so good that the crews could see the streets, railways, and various landmarks in the city. Three aiming points had been chosen for this raid. The duration of the attack was 90 minutes. In the first fifteen minutes Nos 1 and 3 Group aircraft, approximately 100 in all, were sent in to mark the targets. These were equipped with a radar navigational aid called Gee, and carried mainly incendiaries. They were followed by bombers from Groups 1 and 3 which were not equipped with Gee, and finally, for the last fifteen minutes or so, the heavies of 4 and 5 Group took a hand in the battle. Of the 80 Stirlings on the raid, 13 were from Stradishall and dropped a total of 84,560 lbs of bombs. W7534, piloted by P/O H. Dent, was one of the 40 aircraft lost on the raid, becoming the Squadron's first Stirling casualty. The fate of W7534 was observed by F/Lt Brian Frow, an Englishman of No. 408 Canadian Squadron, flying a Hampden towards Cologne and about 20 miles from the target. The following report appeared in 'The Thousand Plan', by Ralph Barker. "I noticed that two aircraft, not more than 400 yards ahead and slightly to starboard, were settling down into the most dangerous position of all Ц one above the other. Unless someone in the lower aircraft was looking straight up from the astrodome, neither crew would be likely to spot the other. The top aircraft was a Stirling, the one underneath a Wellington. It all happened incredibly quickly, in the space of perhaps ten seconds. As it weaved, the Wellington rose slightly, while the Stirling sagged and levelled out. Then the Wellington came up again under the Stirling, soaring this time just a few feet too far. As the two bombers touched, the fans of the Wellington cut the tail of the Stirling clean off. Both aircraft lifted together in a kind of mutual shock before dropping forward and hurtling downward. Then the Wellington blew up." Frow watched the Stirling falling for several thousand feet, then lost it. A few seconds later a vivid explosion on the ground marked the spot where it had gone in. Frow and his crew had seen no parachutes from either plane. The Wellington was from No. 101 Squadron Ц their second casualty of the raid. Reconnaissance after the raid showed massive destruction. 600 acres of Cologne had been obliterated! Only 780 acres had been destroyed on all German targets bombed previously, including the two successful attacks on Lubeck and Rostock. The Cologne raid received acclaim from both sides of the Atlantic. At home, morale soared as people saw Britain going on to the offensive, and the realisation dawned that perhaps we could beat Germany by destroying her towns and industries with massive attacks from the air. Harris' gamble had paid off. He had silenced his critics and henceforth, with the backing of Churchill, received all the priorities he sought. But what of the Germans? What effect did the Cologne raid have on them? Harris has this to say: "The enemy understood the implications of the attack on Cologne as well as anyone in England and it had an immediate effect on their whole air strategy. It was not long after this that there began those changes in the order of the battle of the German Air Force, and that drastic modification of the enemy's aircraft production plan, which eventually stripped the German army of all air cover and of all close support from the air. "An air force whose whole purpose was army co-operation had now, from the summer of 1942 onwards, to concentrate more and more on the defence of Germany and to leave the German army more and more to its own devices on the ground." Germany, from this time on, was deeply committed to defence of the Reich. The saturation tactics and the bomber stream made the Kammhuber Line obsolete. The searchlight belt was withdrawn, and the searchlights and flak batteries placed around the towns, whilst defences were deepened. At the end of 1942, with a massive increase in equipment, personnel and new ground control stations, Germany's Night Fighter Arm became a formidable force once again, and a serious challenge to our bombers. With his large bomber force assembled, and virtually intact after the Cologne raid, Harris decided to deliver another blow, this time against Essen, the home of Krupps; and on the night of June 1/2 the bomber armada set out again on its mission of destruction. This time the weather intervened, and low cloud obscured the target area making the bombing widespread. Of the eleven aircraft sent out by the Squadron, all returned safely to base. In May 1941, Corporal fitter Harold Bidmead was posted to Stradishall to take up duties in the recently formed Conversion Flight. Harold had joined the RAF in 1940, leaving an apprenticeship with an organ building firm in London, to become a flight mechanic. Reaching this goal was far from easy, as Harold explains: "I suppose you can say that mine was a musical background. My father used to play in the Halle Orchestra and in my spare time I ran a small band that became pretty well known. I played the trumpet and other wind instruments. When I joined the RAF it soon became known that I was a musician, and an organiser with connections. So everything possible was done to keep me on the permanent staff. They could not believe that I did not wish to sit the war out in a cushy billet. It was only with the greatest of resolve that I eventually finished my training as a flight mechanic. Even then I still had problems. One day I was told to report to the Air Ministry. I wondered what was in store for me. "On arrival I was taken to a room in which some American equipment similar to our Link trainer was stored. I was told that this equipment had recently arrived and no one was sure why it would not work. It was pneumatically operated, and they had checked their records and had come up with my trade as organ builder. It didn't take me long to sort out the trouble and they were highly delighted, saying I could have a permanent job looking after the equipment. Once again I reiterated my desire to be a fitter, and suggested that in case of further trouble they call in civilian contractors, whose address I gave them." After serving in Scotland and Iceland, Harold arrived at 214 Squadron, soon to be embroiled in non-stop flying training, sometimes doing as many as six flights a day with a number of pilots, including F/Lt Lofthouse. He decided that this was the job for him and applied for the post of flight engineer, was accepted, and became a sergeant on June 1st. His first pilot, S/Ldr Elmer Sturdy, was an excellent choice. Elmer, a Canadian, now in retirement in Vancouver, gained a DFC and bar with 214 and was a well-liked pilot. 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