аЯрЁБс>ўџ y{ўџџџxџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџьЅСs П#\jbjbР Р %ОЊkЊk#Xџџџџџџ]–––––––>>>>> J>#ъjjjjjjjjртттттт, єj–jjjjjF––jjjFFFjN–j–jрЊJєJ––––jрFšFр––р^ аlЛ>>ИŽр Chapter IX - Enter the Stirling Just an old fashioned Stirling with old fashioned ways, A fuselage tattered and torn, Four Hercules engines, keep plugging away, She's flying from midnight to dawn. With the Squadron's conversion programme now over, a busy operational period started. It was not without casualties, as four aircraft were lost within the first three weeks. One was shot down whilst gardening, a job often given to new crews to gain operational experience, but one which was fraught with danger and claimed the life of many a good crewman, veteran and tyro alike. On the night of June 19/20, 1942, 214 lost a popular member when S/Ldr Peter Nixey was brought down over Holland whilst accompanying P/O Mitchell and crew on a raid to Emden. S/Ldr Nixey had been awarded a DSO only a month before, for outstanding service. Six nights later, F/Sgt Craig, returning from St Nazaire after an abortive sortie, with one engine unserviceable, crashed a few miles from base, killing all members of the crew with the exception of Sgt Appleby, A/G, who survived. The same night, the last of the 1,000 bomber raids, this time on Bremen, was carried out. On this occasion, no fatal casualties were incurred, but one aircraft was attacked by fighters over the target, wounding the front gunner and engineer, and the damage sustained by the aircraft was such that the port outer engine fell off. Despite this, the aircraft was safely landed at Coltishall. Two nights later, on June 27, Bremen was again the target. Sgt Griggs, RAAF, and crew were given national coverage of their exploits on this, one of the most memorable Stirling sorties of the war. Nine crews flew out from Stradishall. Aircraft P Peter N3751, flown by Sgt Griggs, was hit by flak over the target, knocking out the starboard engine. Nearing the Dutch coast the aircraft was attacked by a night fighter from below, which raked the Stirling from nose to tail, killing the rear gunner, Sgt Sewell. Almost immediately after this incident a Junkers 88 attacked from the port beam, wounding the wireless operator, Sgt Wildey, in the arm and causing further heavy damage to the aircraft. It came in again to attack, but this time Sgt Waddicar, the mid-upper gunner, managed to shoot it down. The front gunner, Sgt Watson, had meantime left his turret to render aid to Sgt Wildey when a warning came over the intercom that two fighters were making a head-on attack. Rushing back to his turret, Watson found that it was jammed and could not be operated. He was unable to enter the turret, but with the navigator, Sgt O'Hara, holding his legs, he was able to lean forward and fire the guns. Fate must have smiled kindly on the crew, for one of the attacking fighters flew into the cone of fire from the turret's two fixed guns and was shot down. The other fighter, after delivering its attack, came in again, and the mid-upper, whose two guns had jammed in the previous encounter, just managed to clear one of these and return fire with the fighter at 200 yards range. Once more the mid-upper was successful, and had the satisfaction of seeing his second kill of the night, as the fighter exploded and crashed into the sea. As if P Peter had not suffered enough fighter attacks, it was once more set upon, this time by an Me 109. The attack was not pressed home and a long burst of gunfire from Sgt Waddicar drove it off but the crew's ordeal was far from over. The badly damaged aircraft had lost height and was almost out of control. Only with the greatest difficulty did Sgt Griggs prevent it crashing into the sea. The tail plane actually went into the water! The next problem was getting back to base, and the navigator showed great skill in guiding the badly wrecked aircraft home to Stradishall by the use of astro-navigation. Sgt Tom Prosser, the engineer, did a magnificent job in nursing the damaged engines and looking after the hydraulics and fuel supply, a nightmarish task in those circumstances. Both port engines were damaged but continued to function until base was reached, where the undercarriage was found to be u/s when it came to be lowered. At this stage, only a few miles from home, the two good engines cut. As the aircraft was unable to circle, it was brought in for a belly landing by the pilot, who managed to bring it safely over the airfield's boundary. For their outstanding night's work, the six surviving crew members each received the DFM; a most notable achievement. The Squadron lost the CO, W/Cdr Knocker, on the first night's operation in July. Seven crews were once again part of a main force attack on Bremen. At 0150 hours, in the Waddenzee area, W/Cdr Knocker's aircraft was shot down by a German night fighter, crashing 2 kms from Pieterburen and killing the whole crew. Operations were flown on 15 nights in July, but with the exception of a raid on Wilhelmshaven on the 8th, the early part of the month was given over to the minelaying role of planting vegetables around the Friesian Islands and Heligoland. With the light summer nights and shorter periods of darkness, it became increasingly more difficult to make deep penetrations into Germany, and with the defences gaining strength, visits to major targets were restricted. On July 15, Harold Bidmead was out on an air test with his skipper, S/Ldr Sturdy, and landed at another aerodrome. As Harold relates the event, "I never bothered to find out why we went to this particular field, but after landing, a figure dressed in flying kit clambered aboard. It was obvious that our pilot and the newcomer knew each other pretty well, and I took it that it was a friend coming up for a trip. We carried on with the air test, but now the stranger was flying our kite. Eventually we arrived back at base. The first attempt at a landing was terrible. We bounced feet in the air, so the pilot took the aircraft round again and the second touchdown was as bad as the first. After a third ropey landing I said to the pilot, 'This is the last time, we have to use this aircraft on ops tonight and I want it to be in one piece.' He said nothing, just grinned, and I forgot the incident. "Some days later I was sitting in the crew room when an officer walked in and said, 'You had better get ready, Bidmead, you are flying on ops tonight.' It was then I learned that the chap who flew with us on the air test was our new CO, W/Cdr Smythe. From that time on he always had me as his flight engineer, and it was the start of a lifelong friendship." On July 16, a special operation took place, codenamed Pandemonium. It was a dusk attack on a submarine works at Herrenwyk, four and a half miles north-east of Lubeck. 31 Stirling crews took part, all with operational experience, for the flight meant a daylight crossing of Denmark. The instructions were that cloud cover should be at least 8/10ths over enemy territory, otherwise the attacking aircraft should abort. The Squadron supplied three crews for the operation, which turned out to be far from successful. Sgt Flemming in H Harry, breaking through cloud over Denmark, ran into an intense flak barrage which killed his gunner, Sgt Wilson, and badly damaged the aircraft. One of the other two Stirlings came under fighter attack but escaped and, with conditions clear and no cloud cover, the Squadron's three aircraft turned back for base. Other aircraft in the Group pressed on and came under opposition from both flak and fighters, but the raid was inconclusive and damage to the target minimal. Three nights later, a second dusk raid was made. This time the Stettiner Vulcan and Oderwerke U-boat yards were the targets, but once again shortage of cloud cover made the operation a non-starter. The secondary target, Vegesack, was bombed instead. 214 sent out six aircraft on this mission and all returned without mishap. After the two dusk raids, Duisburg was chosen for July 21, 23, and 25, and the Squadron sent out crews on each of these nights. Hamburg appeared once again on the target maps at the briefing for ops on the night of July 26 with six crews detailed for that night's battle order. One crew failed to return when the Stirling flown by F/Lt Simich was brought down at Westerdeichstrich. The entire crew escaped by parachute to become prisoners of war. One aircraft, flown by S/Ldr English, was coned over the target and subjected to heavy AA fire. The W/Op was wounded in the neck and the plane, although damaged, was successfully flown back to base. It was as though the raid on Hamburg had been a dress rehearsal for the night of July 28, when Bomber Command called for a major effort from all squadrons, and the King and Queen visited 3 Group Headquarters at Newmarket to watch the raid develop. Although it did not equal the thousand bomber raids in numbers, this was the biggest raid carried out since Bremen, and it was hoped that Hamburg would be devastated by our bombers. Harold Bidmead, who flew that night with the CO, W/Cdr Smythe, relates, "The weather was atrocious. I believe that most other Groups had the recall signal but 3 Group carried on. We battled on over the North Sea but icing conditions were severe and we soon lost the use of one of our engines. As the other engines were in danger of failing, we had to turn back to base, where we made a three-engine landing. The whole operation was a fiasco." The Squadron suffered no casualties on this operation, but 25 aircraft were lost by 3 Group, and of the 9 Stirlings which took part in the raid from 1651 Conversion Unit, Waterbeach, heavy icing caused three to abort, two more to come back with mechanical faults, and the remaining four were listed as "missing, failed to return". This was a nerve-wracking experience for the learner crews which had still to embark on their period of operational service. Sgt Reg Howe, mid-upper gunner in S/Ldr English's crew, was a member of the company of eight crews which left Stradishall to bomb Saarbrucken on July 29th; a night in which all eight aircraft were either attacked or intercepted by night fighters. "We were jumped by a night fighter," he recalls, "and his first burst put the rear turret out of action. The intercom went u/s and cannon fire hit the flash eliminator of my starboard gun. However I did manage to get a few hits on him before he vanished. The pilot, struggling with a badly damaged plane, told the crew to bale out, not realising that the intercom was not working. When he noticed that the flight engineer was still in his seat without taking any action, it dawned on him that he was out of touch with the crew. He sat tight and flew the aircraft back to the UK, with much difficulty, crashing his machine on landing but without injury to the crew." This was Sgt Reg Howe's second tour of operations. He had served with No 9 Squadron in 1940, then rejoined the Squadron at Honington, Suffolk. At this time No 9 Squadron was in the process of moving to Waddington to convert to Lancasters, and as Reg had only a few ops to go on his second tour, it was decided to move him up the road to Stradishall, where he completed his operational service with a total of 61 trips. He also gained a well-deserved DFM. Reg recalls, "My first skipper with 214 Squadron was S/Ldr English who came straight from Training Command, together with a sprog crew. The S/Ldr seemed to be dogged by bad luck and nerves. The few trips I flew with them were never easy. Our first operation was minelaying, and the starboard outer engine packed up. Then we went nickelling, leaflet dropping, over Paris. On this trip we encountered electrical storms and our aircraft crashed on return. Duisburg, on July 21st, went off without trouble. That night we carried a second dickie, F/O Ellis-Brown. "The next trip was to Hamburg where we were badly shot up by flak; then the Saarbrucken sortie which I have already mentioned. S/Ldr English made one more trip but I was not with him that night. On landing back at base after the raid, he veered off the runway and headed for the Army defence post, (no RAF Regiment then). One of the soldiers must have jumped out of his trench and was killed by the Stirling. We never saw S/Ldr English after this incident, as he was posted away from the Squadron." After Reg's pilot left, he flew three more operations with P/O Ince, S/Ldr Carlyon, and W/Cdr Smythe. Although by this time Reg had finished his tour, the Wingco asked him to stay on as his gunner. Reg states, "I had to refuse, as my old skipper from No 9 Squadron was now a Wing Commander in charge of No 30 OTU, and I had promised to join him once I had finished my present tour. My spell with 214 was brief, but, one may say, interesting. I always found the lads a great bunch to be with, and always ready for a laugh. One night in the mess, I recall, someone floated a condom in the SWO's pint of beer. On spotting it he went mad, tried to close the bar, refusing to be pacified. The lads, getting exasperated by his tirade, picked him up bodily and dumped him in the external water tank, which was a large pond-like container close to the mess, and used for dinghy training." W/Cdr Smythe's arrival on 214 was a propitious one for the Squadron. This down-to-earth officer had a settling influence on the Unit, which had suffered the loss of three COs in eleven months. He brought with him his own horse, which he used to ride out to the flights in the mornings. Often dressed in civvies, wearing a flat cap and riding breeches, he could easily have been taken for one of the local landowners, or farmers. In a short time the Wingco made his mark on the Squadron, boosting morale, earning the respect of all his crews by sharing their dangers on operations, and always keeping a cheerful countenance, even when things were not going well for him. By the summer of 1942, Britain's aircraft industry was geared to turning out four-engined heavies. With these new types rapidly entering Squadron service, a shortage of trained engineers became apparent. A recruiting drive was soon under way to urge flight mechanics and fitters on the ground staff to take up flying duties. The status of these new members of aircrew was not clearly defined at first, and Harold Bidmead, when he first joined his crew, was still a corporal, although he was quickly promoted to sergeant. Probably a bigger bone of contention was that no proper brevet was available at that time. W/Cdr Smythe's wife made up a badge for Harold, a half wing, inscribed with "FE". Group Captain Dermot Boyle, the Station Commander at Stradishall, was also much involved with the welfare and training of the new entries, many of whom had never flown before and found their first trip was operational! With the better weather of August there was some curtailment of the bombing of German mainland targets; but mining was carried out on most nights, a task which was far from easy, especially around the Baltic, Denmark and the Friesian Islands. This area was patrolled by some of Germany's crack night fighter squadrons, and flak ships were to be found there in abundance. Two crews were lost during Autust: P/O Symes on the 18th, returning from Osnabruck; and F/O Skone, the 27th, when Nuremburg was the target. September started with attacks on main German targets once again. No.3 Group bombed Saarbrucken, Bremen, Karlsruhe and Essen. P/O Whittingham's aircraft was shot down on a small-scale raid on Munich on September 19, in which 18 Stirlings took part, then the weather deteriorated and only one further raid was made on a mainland target, and this was the Vulcan works at Vegesack on September 23/24. In all, No 3 Group flew 421 sorties in September with a loss of twelve aircraft, four of which belonged to 214. Cyril Baldwin, called up when he was forty years of age, rejoined No 214 at Stradishall. Here are some of his recollections: "I was told to report to No 1 hangar where I was to serve with the major servicing section, in addition to which I was to help with the maintenance of S Sugar. One of the jobs was to see her off on raids, and to guide her back to dispersal on return.When on duty, we fitters assembled near the control tower and when our aircraft was signalled to land we would cycle to the end of the runway to meet it. With a torch, which showed a blue beam, slung over our shoulders, we would bike round the perimeter track, with the plane in pursuit. On reaching the pan (a concrete dispersal point), with the aid of two torches we would guide the plane head into wind. This was no easy job, for the pans were fairly small in comparison with the size of the aircraft, and it was quite easy to run a wheel off the concrete and bog the kite in the soft earth surrounding the pan, needing a tractor to tow her free. (In World War 1 we had called our aircraft buses, but it was alway kites in WW 2). After the aircrew had departed for de-briefing, it would be the turn of the kite guard. It was his job to turn off all fuel cocks, switches, etc., and put on the engine covers, after which he would close all doors and hatches and make himself as comfortable as possible for the rest of his shift. "During the night, the WVS or NAAFI wagon would visit all the aircraft in turn, bang on the sides and shout, 'Wakey, wakey, wagon up!' Those girls were wonderful and we owed much to their kindness. A flap would be lowered in the side of the van, and inside, a subdued light would show a variety of buns, cakes and tarts, which could be purchased at a small cost. We also had a choice of tea, cocoa or coffee. It was little things like this that made life bearable on some of those cold nights with the wind blowing a gale. "I can picture, in my mind's eye, the aircrew arriving at the dispersal prior to take-off, some joking, others quiet. The chore horses would be chattering away, and would be disconnected only a short time before departure, to ensure that the large aircraft batteries were fully charged. One sunny evening, one of the aircrew was standing by the tail of S for Sugar, gazing into the setting sun, deep in thought. 'Is everything OK?' I asked. 'Yes,' he replied, 'I was thinking of last weekend when I went home on pass.' 'Where do you live?' I enquired. 'Ilford,' he said. 'That's strange, so do I,' I told him, and was about to make some other comment when he was called to join his crew who were clambering aboard. Chocks away after run-up, and off went Sugar, and that was the last time I saw plane or crew. It was a sad episode that haunts me, even after all these years. "An incident at Stradishall that I remember well was when I was detailed, with a corporal and four other men, to do an engine run-up on four Stirlings which stood on the airfield awaiting new tyres. The corporal was grumbling because it was already late and the job would take at least two hours to complete. He suggested that after he had got the engines running on the first kite, one of us could complete the run-up, whilst the rest prepared the next one, and so on. As I happened to be the senior LAC, he detailed me to do the run-up. We used a sequence on this exercise. After warming all engines, we ran each in turn at 1,500 revs and then cut, after a short spell. First it would be the port outer, followed by the starboard outer, then the two inners in the same sequence. After this, the two outers would be run up together, then the two inners. "When we reached the first machine, I pointed out that there was no air in the brake system, but the corporal said the chocks would hold OK, and if we didn't get moving we would be here all night. I objected, but he told me to carry on, and that was an order. I turned to the other bods and said, 'You witness that I am obeying an order, and am not responsible in case of accident.' "We started up, ran the four engines in turn, then I was left in the pilot's seat whilst the rest of the lads moved on to the next aircraft. As I started to open up the two outers, I felt a straining on the chocks, and next minute the Stirling was moving forward. We pelted towards a field but the wheels hit a ditch and the nose went into the ground. I pulled the two overhead cut-outs as hard as I could and at the same time kicked the switches off with my feet. The props meantime had been churning into the ground, and at least two were smashed. In the distance I could see the station fire tender and other vehicles dashing towards me, but the first to arrive was the Group Captain. 'Are you responsible for this?' asked the Group Captain. 'Yes,' I replied. 'Consider yourself under open arrest. I will deal with you later,' he then said. "At 8 pm that night I was in my billet when I was told that an officer wished to see me outside. It turned out to be a New Zealand pilot who had learnt of my predicament. He was willing to intercede on my behalf as he knew that there was no air in the brakes and would not have run up the engines at any price. I thanked him for his kindness, but told him I did not think it would be necessary for him to speak on my behalf. It was a great relief to know, however, that I had someone on my side. The following morning at SHQ I was duly charged, but after explaining the circumstances the charge was dismissed. "Shortly after this, though, I was in more serious trouble.I was working on the port outer of a Stirling in the hangar, on top of a gantry. It was higher than normal because the riggers were making a retraction test on the undercarriage, checking the hydraulics with the kite raised a few feet off the ground so that the wheels could be raised and lowered. I was checking the magnetos as part of a major inspection, when all of a sudden I could not release my hands from the engine. Evidently there was a short circuit from one of the lighting leads and, as the plane was on retraction, there was no earth for the current except through the engine, via me, then down the gantry. One of the NCO's ran the length of the hangar to turn off the mains. When the current was switched off, I pitched over backwards from the gantry to the floor below. As the fall must have been close to 30 feet, it was a wonder I was not killed, but as I am of small build and a wiry type of person, I think I must have twisted round in my fall and somehow landed on all fours. The impact with the floor was so great, however, that I actually bounced and finished up hard on my back, cracking my spine." 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