╨╧рб▒с>■  ╝╛■   ║╗                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            ье┴s ┐ЫЭjbjb└ └ %BкkкkЫЩ      ]ЦЦЦЦЦЦЦООООО ЪОъ┬┬┬┬┬┬┬┬╥╘╘╘╘╘╘, ЇєиЦ┬┬┬┬┬8ЦЦ┬┬┬888┬pЦ┬Ц┬╥кrrЦЦЦЦ┬╥8Ъ8╥ЦЦ╥╢ |m╗ОО2╥ Chapter XII - Hamburg and After Till the loosed wind drive all from mind, Except distress, which so will prophets cry, O'ercame them, houseless, from the unhinting sky . (From 'Before a Midnight Breaks in Storm' by Rudyard Kipling) So much has been written about the Battle of Hamburg that I will not cover it in detail. As Hitler's Minister for Armaments, Albert Speer, stated: "A repetition of this type of attack upon another six cities would inevitably cripple the will to sustain armament manufacture and war production." The fire-storms that swept through Hamburg were a new phenomenon in the air war and would be repeated in other German cities, whilst the introduction of Window (metalised strips), dropped by the bomber stream, swamped the defensive radar and helped to keep down the casualty rate amongst the attacking bombers. Hamburg was devastated, and it is estimated that over 45,000 people died in the conflagration. This compares with a total of 51,500 civilians killed in the UK by German air raids during the whole of the war. In all, four raids were made by our bombers on July 24, 27 and 29, and finally, on August 2, 1943. These were augmented by two daylight raids made by Fortresses of the U.S. 8th Air Force. The combined losses were 104 aircraft, 87 British and 17 by the U.S. Of all the Hamburg raids, the one flown on August 2 was the worst, weather-wise. It was really diabolical! The Met men had got it wrong again and before reaching Hamburg we had flown into trouble. First came 10/10th cloud, then severe icing started, and the aircraft became difficult to control. Then, battling through a monstrous electrical storm, we had our first experience of St Elmo's fire. The whole aircraft started to glow from the build-up of static electricity. Sparks were flying between the barrels of my two guns, and also completely around the turret, between the metal frames which held the perspex. Every time I reached towards any metal object inside the turret, sparks would shoot out from my electrically heated gloves and join up with the object. Meanwhile, the plane shone like a beacon and the four propellers resembled catherine wheels. It was an experience one could well do without. For one brief moment the weather cleared over the target and we could see the river Elbe below us, which afforded the bomb aimer just enough time to unload our bombs in the dock area. How other crews fared I am unable to say, but, on the way home over Northern Germany, fires could be observed through the overcast. I can only conclude that these were jettisons from aircraft which were unable to get through. They seemed to spread for miles. We learnt later that more than half the bombers had been unable to reach Hamburg. In this battle the Squadron lost three aircraft, eighteen aircrew were killed, and four became POWs. Sgt navigator Grainger describes how he and his pilot, Sgt McGarvey, baled out over the sea and his life was saved by the determination and bravery of his pilot who towed Grainger's unconscious body towards the German shore. The tide had turned at dawn and no progress was being made, when Sgt McGarvey saw a lightship. He put his own mae west on Sgt Grainger's back to give him extra buoyancy, and set off to get help. A boat was sent out to pick up the unconscious crewman. At POW camp, Grainger reported this incident through the Swiss Red Cross, and Sgt McGarvey was awarded the George Medal. After the Hamburg raids, operations made deeper penetrations into enemy territory and on August 10 an attack was made on Nuremburg. F/Sgt Hall, flying in Stirling BF516, had his port outer engine cut five miles west of the target. He feathered the prop but when attempts were made to restart the engine it caught fire. The fire subsided but the aircraft started to lose height. Although Hall almost managed to reach the English coast, by this time well off course, the remaining engines cut, through lack of fuel. He ditched the aircraft off Peveney Bay. A lifeboat was sent out to pick up the crew but both the navigator, Sgt Smith, and the flight engineer, Sgt Buckle, were lost in the sea before they could be rescued. Geoff Parnell, the rear-gunner, formed a lifelong friendship with one of the rescue crew and they are still in touch with one another after 41 years. Geoff recalls: "The rescuing boat was an ASR Launch, HSL 156, as modelled in Airfix kits. But there was also a 'ghost' lifeboat connected with the incident. I saw a lifeboat with four oars to each side. So did another crewman whilst standing on the wing of our sinking Stirling. I remember feeling sorry for the lifeboat crew who, having rowed out to meet and rescue us, were beaten to the punch by the Walrus and HSL 156 that took us off. When I met the launch skipper, F/O Geoffrey Lockwood, many years later, I mentioned the lifeboat. 'There was no lifeboat,' he stated categorically. 'There was no boat within miles that could have got to you in time.' Therefore, I can only assume that two of us, in a state of desperation, saw the same ghost boat, perhaps of a lifeboat of the 19th century even!" Two raids were made on Turin during the month of August, on the 12th and 16th. No 214 lost the crew of P/O Matthews on the first raid. Peenemunde, the pre-emptive strike against Hitler's secret weapons base followed the second Turin operation. Tired crews, returning to base after an eight-and-a-half hour flight, over the Alps and back, some not returning until midday because of diversion to other dromes, were told to report to operations room for a briefing. This was to be a maximum effort. At Bomber Command stations all over the country, either the Station Commanders or other high-ranking officers from Group, put in an appearance to exhort the crews to make this a decisive blow. We had little doubt that this was a crucial target. Security was tight and the presence of the top brass underlined its importance. When the target map was revealed, showing the red tapes reaching through Denmark and along the Baltic to an unknown target marked Peenemunde, a gasp went through the room. I think everyone thought, at first sight, that this was a Berlin raid. But this soon changed into a mood of wonderment. Why such a small target? What was so important about Peenemunde, a town we had never heard of? Our questions were soon answered when the Group Captain rose to his feet. "Gentlemen," he said, "this is probably one of the most important targets that you will ever be asked to destroy. This experimental station is now finalising radar equipment which is to be installed in night fighters, and, if put into production, will pose a grave threat to our bombers. This target must be destroyed at all costs, and not only the buildings, but the scientists as well. It is that important! Our Squadron has been chosen to attack the main building, housing these men. Therefore, we will be in the first wave to attack, immediately after the Pathfinder markers have gone down. I know that you men have had no sleep after last night's raid, and if anyone wishes to stand down he can come and see me after the briefing, but I must again impress upon you all that this target must be destroyed. If the raid is unsuccessful tonight, we shall have to go back tomorrow, and so on, until such time as it is." After this speech, the rest of the briefing was an anti-climax. The Intelligence officer came up with the usual misinformation that there would only be twelve guns to face over the target, and these would be of small calibre. Then the Met man took his turn, and as far as I can remember, made a short speech and sat down without the usual cheers, catcalls, or hoots of derision to which he was normally subjected. We were still in a moon period, and our outward flight was made in bright and cloudless conditions with excellent visibility. There were no alarms, and we made good progress across the North Sea, Denmark, and along the Baltic until reaching Rugen Island just north of Peenemunde. This was the turning point for our run-in to the target, but we arrived early and the Pathfinders had still to drop their TIs. However, as H hour was almost due we decided to press on, hoping that the PFF would commence marking by the time we came into bombing range. As it happened, we had to overshoot, because we beat the Pathfinders to it. This created another problem because by circling we met the bomber stream coming in on a different course. Our pilot decided that we would turn back and hit the target from the opposite direction, but to ensure that we did not collide head-on with other aircraft, we had to bomb at low level Ц my estimate was about 2,000 feet. That run-in was perilous in the extreme. There was a mass of machines concentrated over a very small area of sky, and the explosions coming up from the ground tossed us around like a cork. Meanwhile, the Germans had found another hundred guns to supplement the twelve we had been told to expect, and proceeded to knock the living daylights out of us. They didn't have to aim them, just hosepipe straight up. One Halifax which must have overshot the target too and was on the same course as ourselves, less than 50 yards away, was hit and dived into the ground. It was hardly high enough to go into a spin! The Mosquitos over Berlin did a good job drawing off the night fighters. We in the first wave made good our escape but, once the defenses realised that Peenemunde was the target, fighters arrived in the area in time to intercept the second and third waves. They pursued us right along the shores of the Baltic and combats occurred right up to the North Sea. Forty-four bombers were lost and I saw twelve of these shot down. A new phase in the bombing offensive, later known as the Battle of Berlin, began on August 23. Although the campaign did not really get under way until the autumn, the two major raids at the end of August were the start of this costly campaign of attrition which claimed so many of Harris' crews, and which continued well into the following year. At the start of this first raid, conditions were in our favour with 7/10ths cloud, enough to give protection against searchlights and guns. But some sixty miles from the target we ran into a weather front, with 10/10ths cloud and icing conditions. Not being able to get above the storm because of the Stirling's poor operational ceiling, we were forced to lose height, hoping that by so doing we would miss the worst of the storm. Nearing the target, the sky again became clear, but it was now obvious that the aircraft could not reach a reasonable height, and we flew into Berlin's defences well under 8,000 feet. It was a most unusual sight. Hundreds of searchlights lit the sky but no flak bursts were to be seen. This meant that fighters were up in strength, and they found us! Coned after the "bombs away" call, we were then attacked by three Fw190s. One was shot down by the rear gunner, but our plane was extensively damaged and, on return, we crashed at Bodney in Norfolk. The entire crew survived the crash. A total of 719 aircraft were despatched on the Berlin raid, of which 625 attacked. Out of this force, 57 were lost, most of them being Stirlings from No 3 Group. The Squadron lost one aircraft, piloted by P/O Hartwell who, along with the crew survived and became prisoners. Nuremburg was the target for August 27. F/Lt Dixon, the pilot who lost his rear gunner in the collision over base on the night of March 29/30, 1943, had another close shave. He was attacked by two fighters after making his bombing run. Two engines were put out of action and the plane fell 13,000 feet, pulling out at 900 feet only by the concerted action of F/Lt Dixon and his second dickie pilot, F/O "Putt" Puterbough. Later, the engine on the starboard side was restarted but the propeller on the port inner meantime had fallen off. The flares inside the aircraft caught fire, but these were put out by the flight engineer. Walter Rowley, the navigator, by using astro navigation, succeeded in setting a course for home and the pilot, with great skill, brought the plane back. F/Lt Dixon was awarded an immediate DFC for this night's exploits, and navigator Walter Rowley was likewise rewarded later in his tour. At that time pilots without operational experience were required to fly as second pilots, on two trips to German targets, with experienced crews, before flying as captain on operations with their own crews. Nuremburg had been the first of Putt's two such second-dickie trips. It also came close to being his last! Munchen Gladbach was the chosen target for August 30 and the following night Berlin was again raided, for the second time in the month. This was another disastrous raid for the Stirling squadrons. Sixteen planes were lost, Nos 75 and 214 Squadrons losing three apiece. In the two raids to Berlin an unacceptable loss rate was recorded: 13% for the first and 15% for the second. If the total wastage rate, including crashes and postings, is 7%, the proportion of crews surviving a tour of 30 operations is only 10%. This means that most of the experienced squadron and flight commanders, with their best crews, would be lost. Thereafter, operational losses would rise rapidly, by reason of an unduly high proportion of new and inexperienced crews. The loss rate against Berlin convinced Bomber Command that the Stirling's days were numbered against far-distant and heavily-defended targets. They were still used for mine laying and special duty sorties, but had ceased attacking major cities in Germany by early 1944, when Stirling squadrons started converting to the Lancaster. If there was any pessimism about mounting losses in 3 Group, it was not shared by Bomber Command. An optimistic note was struck in its review of operations for the months of July, August and September, 1943: "The result of the summer bombing offensive is this, that Germany faces imminent disaster both on the home front and in the east. Had our resources permitted an attack on twice the scale of that actually delivered, she would already be out of the war. As it is, she may be able to hold on for some months yet. But the stage is now reached at which every factory and house destroyed Ц one might also add, every window broken Ц makes it noticeably harder for a frightened and overstrained population to carry on. Bombing, in a word, has all but won the war and, unless the enemy is given a chance to recover, it will finish the job." On the question of resources, mention was made of Lancaster output for August: "Labour troubles, which seriously interfered with Lancaster output in August, kept Bomber Command well below establishment in these aircraft in September, and thus reduced the weight of our offensive below the level of the previous two months. In spite of this setback, however, the total effort for the quarter is outstanding in comparison with that of the previous year." In a final note of optimism to end the review we see: "The position after six months of intensive bombing is this: Half the major cities in the highly industrialised area of Germany have been devastated. Most of the remainder have been badly hit, but Berlin is relatively unscathed and Leipzig, Magdeburg, Halle and a number of other quite important cities in the north-western area are undamaged. In view, however, of the material and morale results of what has already been achieved, there is no prospect whatever that Germany can carry on with the very limited resources in her southern and south-eastern territories alone. What we have to do to win the war, though still a great deal, is now no longer vague and unmanageable, but specific and straightforward. The sooner it is done the better. Opportunities do not last forever." In September, bad weather curtailed bombing operations. Only seven major raids were carried out by Stirlings. Mannheim was the target on September 5th when 34 bombers were lost, mostly claimed by fighters on the way back from the target. Operation Starkey, to Boulogne on September 8, proved to be a damp squib. The idea was to make a feint invasion in order to bring the Luftwaffe to battle, but the enemy did not put in an appearance. Montlucon, on the 15th, was a raid on the Dunlop Rubber Company's factory, and the following night 3 Group attacked Modane, a rail yard on the Mont Cenis route to Italy, but this was only partially successful. One of the Canadians at Chedburgh was F/O D.R. 'Dickie' Dickson. He had taught navigation in the Commonwealth Air Training Plan at Rivers, Manitoba, served with Ferry Command on the North Atlantic during the winter of 1942/43, and joined 214 Squadron as navigator in the crew of F/O 'Putt' Puterbough in September, 1943. He recalls some bizarre episodes: "The Group Captain decided to go plum picking in the Midlands and appointed our crew to fly him there, and to assist with the harvesting. The plan seemed simple enough and I, as navigator, was entrusted with the responsibility of guiding us to the aerodrome closest to the plum orchard. We set off on this unchallenging course and when the Gee set indicated we were over the drome, without even bothering to look outside the aircraft I announced to the skipper that we had arrived. 'No aerodrome here, Dick,' was the reply. Somewhat taken aback, feeling my reputation was at stake, I did a hasty recheck, found I had taken the wrong co-ordinates off the Gee chart, and quickly headed the kite off in the right direction. In due course we arrived, obtained transport to where the plums were, picked and picked and picked plums, loaded our loot on the plane, and set off on what should, please, be an uneventful flight home. But, alas, we got lost again! The sun was sinking low in the west by the time our home base came into view. The skipper obtained permission to land and down we went. Almost every one of Putt's touch-downs during my entire time on his crew was smooth as silk, but on this particularly doomed Groupie's joy ride, a heavy jolt signalled our return to terra firma. Once safely down and rolling, having negotiated the turn onto the peri-track, our brake pressure failed. The kite wheeled off the pavement into the rough, and banged, bounced and jostled along until the skipper shut it down. Meanwhile the elson had disgorged its odourful effluent onto the floor. Without a word, the Group Captain rose from his second-dickie seat and left us with only the curtest of nods. All the messes on base soon had more plums to eat than they could possibly ever wish for, but from that day onward it seemed to me that the Group Captain maintained an understandably icy reserve towards our crew. "In the summer of '43, while converting to Stirlings at Stradishall, Putt and I had shared a room in the billet. On Agust 27, shortly before being posted to 214, Putt was put on the Squadron's battle order and flew on his first op as second-dickie with F/Lt Jack Dixon. They went to Nuremburg, were hit by a night-fighter leaving the target, and lost two engines. Meanwhile, back at Stradishall, I was suddenly awakened by a blinding flash of light and sat bolt upright in bed, looking around for some explanation of the phenomenon. There was none! I took note of the exact time and tried to go back to sleep. Next morning, my first thought was to see if Putt was in his bed. A quick glance confirmed my worst fears; he was not there. Word eventually came back from Chedburgh that the entire crew had safely landed at another base. The moment I had been unaccountably awakened at Stradishall coincided precisely with the time of the fighter attack at Nuremburg, when my skipper had been in mortal danger. "During the time our crew flew on ops with 214, there was some speculation about the 'things' which sometimes followed us on return from a sortie. We had a name for them, but it escapes me now. I can well recall our aircraft being followed back by one of these mysterious flying objects. Putt did everything in his power to break loose, but simply could not. It just sat there following our every move. It made no effort to attack, and disappeared as we crossed the coast of Britain. To my knowledge, no one ever discovered what or who they were, or what they were doing up there, but I know that a number of crews were well aware of the existence of these 'things' in the sky. "On January 4, 1944, we were briefed for a late night attack on a small target in the Pas de Calais. During the evening, while awaiting take-off time, I was sitting in the mess reading a Neville Shute novel, listening peripherally to a BBC drama about an RAF bomber base. Our mess was crowded and noisy, with little attention being paid to the radio, but I suddenly became aware that the target for that night, in the BBC drama, was the same crossroad junction which we were planning to bomb a few hours hence! When I heard them mention the name of the target, I figured that Jerry's espionage knew of our own intended target, had found a way to infiltrate the BBC, and was using the RAF drama as a means of tipping off the German night fighter force. Our Intelligence officer was sitting across the room, oblivious to the message coming in on the radio. I alerted him as to what was happening and he promised to look into it. We took off on schedule, although in my case it was with more than the usual apprehension. I fully expected to find the entire Luftwaffe deployed along our flight path between the French coast and the target. As it turned out, there was no fighter opposition whatsoever and we were back at base little more than three hours after take-off." A few days later the IO made a point of advising Dickson that the radio drama's selection of their target for its story was "purely a coincidence" - remarkable, considering the microscopic dimensions of the target, and with all of Western Europe for the BBC writers to choose from! On September 22, Hanover proved a difficult raid. That night I was flying as a spare gunner with a different crew. The navigator was hopeless! We were off course crossing the English coast on the way out and although Hanover, under attack, was clearly visible all the way from the German border, our bombs dropped on the target a full 20 minutes late. It seemed that ours was the only aircraft at Hanover and how we managed not to be intercepted I will never know. On the way back, a trail of fighter flares marked our passage home, but once again we were lucky, as no one attacked us. Some time after, the pilot asked the navigator if he could come down to a lower altitude. "Yes, we are now over the North Sea," said the nav, so down we came, slap bang over Emden Naval Base and through a barrage of light flak, the likes of which I had never before experienced. This time, although we did get hit, no one was hurt. Once clear of Emden I thought perhaps we would have a more peaceful journey home, but it was not to be. Our navigator next took us over the Friesian Islands, a real hot spot if ever there was one, and once more we got attention from the ground and sea defences. I received a stinging blow on the face and blood poured from my cheek. At the same time two perspex panels were shot out of my turret. It was murderously cold and I could not take my gloves off to check on the injury but it seemed that a piece of shrapnel had gone through my cheek. Later I discovered all I suffered was a cut, probably caused by flying perspex. When we eventually landed, the aircraft was found to be full of holes and I picked up several pieces of shrapnel from the turret. One piece, about three inches in diameter, had come up through the floor, somehow missing my feet, and made a big indentation in the base of my gun. It seemed impossible that I could have escaped without injury. Even my outer flying suit was pierced in several places by small pieces of flak. I must have looked a real sight, frosted eyebrows and eyelashes, and all the appearance of having just walked out of a deep freeze. As for my white face, I am not sure if this was caused by the intense cold or just plain fright. That was my first and last flight with this crew. On their next operation they all were killed. Two of the Squadron's aircraft were lost on Hanover; those of F/Sgt Heath and F/Sgt Hall. F/Sgt Hall was the pilot who had ditched in Pevney Bay a few weeks earlier, but this time his luck ran out. Geoff Parnell, the rear gunner, takes up the story: "We were on the bombing run when we were hit, but whether by flak or fighter I have no way of knowing. I suspect, though, that a night fighter got below us and fired upwards with his slanting-music machine guns. All I remember is that we were on fire and going down fast. I got to my parachute and clipped it on, but things were hazy after that. I discussed it later with the bomb aimer, the only other survivor, and we believe that our aircraft blew up and threw us clear. But we must have been pretty low at the time because I seemed to arrive on the ground shortly after my chute opened. The aircraft, or what was left of it, had crashed close by. My back was injured in the landing and I found it almost impossible to walk, but I did crawl for some distance and found shelter in some bushes. I decided to stay there and await daylight and then take stock of the situation, but being deep inside Germany and hardly able to walk, my prospects looked far from good. At first light my worst fears were realised. I had landed in the suburbs of Hanover. All around was open ground and a searchlight battery was situated nearby. It wasn't long before I was spotted by one of the soldiers and was greeted with the usual words, 'For you, the war is over'. As I was being taken to a hut close to the searchlight, one of the guards, an older man, spoke to me in English and said that he had lived in London as a child just before the start of the 1914-18 war. He asked me to give him my address. This I did, I don't know why, and promptly forgot all about it, having more pressing things on my mind at the time. Some years after the war, when I was back home after leaving the RAF, this German contacted me through the Control Commission and sent a cinщ film of that night's raid on Hanover. It shows the searchlight crew going into action, the raid developing, our aircraft coming down in flames, and, finally, me being taken away to prison camp." Geoff was taken off to the aircrew interrogation centre, (Dulagluft) near Frankfurt. Although "in the bag" he still managed to retain his normal sense of humour as the following report shows. It first appeared in 'The Turret' magazine of the Airgunners' Association in April, 1982. "I'd been in this rotten Dulag Luft place some time and I didn't like it. The cell was alive with bugs and lice and the graffiti on the walls less than encouraging. There was the inevitable 'It's no use standing on the seat; the crabs in here can jump ten feet', which I'd already found out for myself, and downright disheartening messages such as 'Pete Jones, 96 days, and RIP'. The thieving Germans had taken my fountain pen, for which I'd been given a receipt so that I could redeem it when they won the war. They also lifted two big white five pound notes that I shouldn't have had with me, and the secret compasses disguised as fly buttons, and a large chromium cigarette case containing a few Craven, and my red enamel utility lighter that cost 6/6d. Not unnaturally I wanted a smoke, and having a devious turn of mind, I wondered how to go about this. I found that if you made enough noise and commotion you were allowed out of your cell to visit the toilet, accompanied by an elderly German carrying a large rifle. I ventured to ask this individual the length of time I was likely to be incarcerated in this foul dungeon but my command of his language was scarcely equal to the task. After several moments of stolid incomprehension, his honest peasant face lit up and he hauled a pocket watch from some inner recess of his uniform. 'Half past nine!' he announced triumphantly. Silly fellow couldn't understand his own language! But having achieved a degree of bonhomie and trust, he turned his back upon me when I perched precariously upon the pan. You will understand that the loos in Dulag didn't have doors or, for that matter, toilet rolls. There were neat squares of paper from the Volkischer Beobachter or the Allegemeiner Zeitung. Good solid reading, and all in Gothic print. "Being a literate type, unlike most air gunners, who didn't get past J. Wellington Wimpy and Popeye in the Daily Mirror, and certainly not past Jane in the altogether, I took a piece of newspaper for my personal perusal in the solitude of my cell. The thought of having a smoke didn't enter my mind. And guess what? After a diligent search of my pockets I was rewarded with five pounds of fluff and twenty nine shreds of tobacco. I rolled a 50/50 mix of Dulag Special in the Beobachter, licked it, and having a high quality and glutinous saliva, managed to stick it down. Fellow Kreigies will remember the need for sticky spit because German cigarette papers didn't have a glue edge and caused much frustration and conversion to pipe smoking. But how to light this cigarette? A further search revealed a safety match head, no more than an eighth of an inch long. Impossible, I hear my readers say. He's making it up. I'm not, honestly. I stood on my bunk and struck the head of the match on the cell window. The 'cigarette' amazingly caught fire and I smoked it right down, coughing all the way, and when the Germans came in and turned the place over, smelling the different smoke, they found nothing. So I scratched on the wall, 'Parnell had a smoke in here'. I hope it set off the next generation of aircrew on the subversive path, like making illicit liquor. I'm sure it did." Mannheim was the target for September 23. Bomber Command lost 32 planes on this operation and once again night fighters marked our passage with flares both sides of the stream. The month ended with another visit to Hanover on the 27th and on this raid F/Sgt Brown and crew failed to return. Later it was learned that they had survived and all were prisoners of war. Although involved in a heavy operational bombing programme, 3 Group still managed to stage a Group bombing competition in September in which five squadrons participated. The officer who wrote up the summary of this competition must have had his tongue in cheek when he made the results known. He wrote: "Five squadrons entered the competition but we hardly have the nerve to put down the results in black and white. One crew of 214 Squadron dropped six bombs from ten thousand feet and obtained 101 yard error, a very laudable effort for F/O Thomas and pilot W/O J. Walters, but over the rest we draw a veil, a very dark one, to try and hide 200 yard errors in competition bombing." What W/C McGlinn thought, or said, of his other crews is not recorded, but like Queen Victoria, I am sure he was 'not amused'. October's offensive opened with a rush. Five main targets were attacked within the first eight days and one crew from 214 was sent out on a supply drop to the French Resistance. Poor weather prevailed and fog seriously curtailed bombing sorties although mining was carried out in the last week. Desmond McGlinn, 214's CO, had arrived at Chedburgh at the end of July and was whipping the Squadron into shape. He was keen on exercises, both flying and keep-fit. October's operational stand-downs gave him the opportunity to organise Bulls Eyes and other night flying. During the day, cross country walks were put on for the aircrew who did not appreciate the exercise. Bad weather continued throughout November. Not until the 18th was a major raid undertaken. That night the Squadron's target was Mannheim, followed on the 19th by a trip to Leverkusen, a raid that was something of a wash-out. The flak was intense and the marking was poor, as was the bombing, probably because the Met forecast was all wrong. We ran into 10/10ths cloud over the target, the tail wind we expected turned out to be a head wind, and, in the case of our flight, fuel ran so low that there was no chance of reaching base so we diverted to Thorney Island. Even in these days of weather forecasting, when aids such as satellites are available, not all forecasts are correct and, with the limited information at their disposal during the war years, the meteorologists did the best they could. But we aircrew were an intolerant lot when a wrong forecast could be fatal. Often a reciprocal wind would bring about a fuel shortage not budgeted for, and gave little room for manoeuvre as the bomb/petrol loading was finely calculated. Fog or low cloud on return were hazards we also feared. Met officers received a 'warm' reception from us at briefings. They were treated with derision, or became the butt of some remark made by one of the wags amongst us. Berlin was the last long-distance trip to be flown by the Squadron's Stirlings, and for F/Sgt Atkinson and crew it was a fateful night. Nearing Hanover on the return journey, the aircraft was hit by flak, wounding the rear gunner, Wilf Slack, in the leg, and putting one engine out of action. Icing forced the pilot to fly below 1,500 feet and both gunners returned fire on several flak positions which opened up on them, besides dousing 15 to 20 searchlights. Over the Zuyder Zee they were attacked by an FW190, which was shot down by Sgt Sweeney who, although wounded, refused to leave his turret. A radio message was sent out that they were short of fuel and unlikely to make the English coast. Though the crew could have baled out, the captain was determined to bring his aircraft as close to the UK as possible, then ditch. In the end, another engine failed due to the fuel shortage and a successful two-engine landing was made on the sea. Unfortunately the Stirling broke in half behind the mid-upper turret and the tail disappeared immediately. The crew, in crash positions for the ditching, quickly scrambled out onto the wings and launched the dinghy. Sgt Sweeney also managed to get on to the wing but was washed off by the sea. He blew his whistle and shouted but the rest of the crew were unable to find him despite a long search. The North Sea in winter gives little chance of survival. Efforts were also made to extricate the pilot, F/Sgt Atkinson, but these failed and he went down with the nose of the aircraft. The wireless operator, Jock Wilson, adopted the correct W/T procedure and stayed at his post until the end, enabling an air-sea rescue launch to locate their position. Due to Jock's devotion to duty, the five remaining crewmen were picked up. The Squadron sent six crews to Tempsford in November to help No 161 Sqdn drop supplies to the French Resistance; hazardous work usually entailing a long distance flight on a moonlit night to a small remotr field. A reception committee would await them and signal with flashlights to indicate where the supplies were to be dropped. Fifteen supply drops were made between November 9 and 21, all aircraft returning safely; not a bad record considering that these flights were carried out at night, flying as low as 50 feet, and without previous experience in this type of operation. Whilst based at Tempsford, the crews were visited by the King and Queen, who inspected the personnel involved in the night's operations, and took tea with the aircrew in the officers' mess. Harold Bidmead was there when an announcement was made that the King would make an informal presentation to one of the Station's officers. Harold relates: "This particular officer was none too popular, and when the King made the presentation there was a deafening silence. The Queen, noticing the mood, turned to Harold and said, 'Do you take two sugars in your tea, dear?' This broke the spell and conversation returned to normal." Like all who have been in her company, Harold and the entire assembly were greatly impressed by the Queen. Detachments were at Tempsford again in December when 24 drops were made, then the Squadron left Chedburgh to share residence for a short time with 218 Squadron at Downham Market. (Following is a copy of a typical Battle Order). No. 214 ( F.M.S. B/S. ) Squadron BATTLE ORDER, 8th September, 1944 "A"(HB.767) "B"(HB.788) "C"(HB.780) "G" (HB.774) Pilot F/O Cork S/Ldr Bray F/Lt Scantleton F/Lt Gilbert Nav F/S Podger F/O Blyth F/O Forbes F/O Knight WOp/Air F/S Bonner F/S Roberts W/O McDonald F/O Crossman A.B. F/O Foskett F/O Murphy F/S Scott P/O Watts M.U.G. F/S Roose P/O McGarvie F/S Hewitt W/O Boyle R/Gnr W/O Boanas P/O Lyall F/S Fothergill F/O Claxton F/Eng F/S Barber P/O Stainsbury F/S Nuttall F/S Pugh W/Gnr W/O Delisle P/O Moore F/S Taylor W/O West W/Gnr Sgt Madgewick F/S Ward P/O Milton P/O Mardell Sp. Op. Sgt Stelling F/O Lang Sgt Isaacs Sgt Kelly "J"(HB.787) "O"(HB.802) "R" (HB.765) "S" (SR.380) Pilot F/O Bettles F/Lt Lye S/Ldr MillerDFC F/Lt Bayliss Nav. F/O Evans F/S Stemp P/O Dodds F/S Creach WOp/Air F/O Kinzett F/S Ord-Hume W/O Lancashire F/S Charlton A.B. F/O McGilchrist F/S Braithwaite F/Lt Taffs W/O Crerar M.U.G P/O Connolly F/S Stokes W/O Burn F/S Edmonds R/Gnr F/S Smyth F/S Knowlton F/O PhillipsDFC Sgt Bailey F/Eng F/O Cann F/S Currie F/S Cox Sgt Carter W/Gnr Sgt Chalk F/O Ufton W/O Rogers F/S Wilson W/Gn F/S Lumley Sgt Finnigan Sgt Christie Sp. Op. F/O Darracot Sgt Mackintosh F/S Levitt Sgt Mallison "Q" (HB.772) "L" (HB.803) "U" (HB.801) Pilot F/lt Puterbough F/Lt Lawson F/O Mackie Nav. F/Lt Dickson F/O Chappell F/O O'Leary WOp/Air F/S Wright F/S Atkinson W/O Mooreby A.B. W/O Joyce W/O Halldorson F/S Morris M.U.G. W/O Heath P/O Knight W/O Flack R/Gnr W/O Bowman W/O McCann F/O Wells DFM F/Eng F/S Parkington Sgt Anstee F/S Honeyman W/Gnr F/S Logan F/O Hawking W/O Taylor W/Gnr F/S Brown W/O Stewart,DFM F/S Fell Sp. Op. F/S Lander Sgt Reynold P/O Hoffman CERTIFIED FLIGHT OVER FOUR HOURS DURATION. Meals ... ... ... ... ... 00.15 hrs. Transport . ... ... ... 00.45 hrs. Briefing .. ... ... ...01.00 hrs. (Meals.. ... ... ... 23.15 hrs. NAVIGATORS: (Transport.. ... ... ...23.45 hrs. (Briefing .... ... .... 00.01 hrs. NOTE: Officer i/c THERE WILL BE NO ALTERATION Operations:W/Cmdr Rogers. TO THE BATTLE ORDER WITHOUT G. Wright F/Lt. AUTHORISATION BY THE SQUADRON COMMANDER OR HIS DEPUTY. for Wing Commander, Commanding No, 214 ( F.M.S. B/S. ) Squadron Officer i/c Operations: W/Cmdr Rogers. 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