RAF Spilsby in 1945 (Apr 2018)
No. 44 (Rhodesia) Squadron was formed in 1917. They have a distinguished record. In 1940 their Hampdens took part in the first retaliatory raid on Berlin during the Battle of Britain. Sqn Ldr Rod Learoyd earned a VC for a low level raid on the Dortmund-Ems canal. They were the first squadron to convert to Lancasters and six of their aircraft took part in the daylight raid on Augsburg when Sqn Ldr Nettleton was awarded the VC. During WWII they suffered the heaviest Lancaster losses in 5 Group. In the Falklands conflict three ‘Black Buck’ operations were flown. Vulcan 607 was a 44 Sqn aircraft. In 1982 they handed in their Vulcans and were disbanded.
AEG's Chairman, Terry Smith, is proud to be ex-44 - he was the squadron’s Senior Engineering Officer. Through his good offices we have permission to re-print from the 44 Squadron Association Newsletter this extract from the diary of one of its wartime pilots. The added pictures are all of 44 Sqn aircrew and aircraft.
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David Parry, one of our members, was born in South Africa in 1924 and he has recently published his memoirs. In them he describes a trip from South Africa to London - it took twelve days and night in all, comprising flights to Milan and train from there to London via Paris. During his life, David has kept a detailed diary and the following excerpt from his memoirs deals mainly with his time at Spilsby.
David was too young to join the RAF at the beginning of WWII but, as soon as he was able, he started his pilot training in Rhodesia in 1942. After more than a year's training he left for England by troopship, arriving in December 1943. There his training continued until, finally, in the spring of 1945 he was able to join 44 Sqn at Spilsby.
AEG's Chairman, Terry Smith, is proud to be ex-44 - he was the squadron’s Senior Engineering Officer. Through his good offices we have permission to re-print from the 44 Squadron Association Newsletter this extract from the diary of one of its wartime pilots. The added pictures are all of 44 Sqn aircrew and aircraft.
_____________________________________________________________________
David Parry, one of our members, was born in South Africa in 1924 and he has recently published his memoirs. In them he describes a trip from South Africa to London - it took twelve days and night in all, comprising flights to Milan and train from there to London via Paris. During his life, David has kept a detailed diary and the following excerpt from his memoirs deals mainly with his time at Spilsby.
David was too young to join the RAF at the beginning of WWII but, as soon as he was able, he started his pilot training in Rhodesia in 1942. After more than a year's training he left for England by troopship, arriving in December 1943. There his training continued until, finally, in the spring of 1945 he was able to join 44 Sqn at Spilsby.
After our arrival procedure was completed we went to the Officers' Mess which was of the Nissen Hut variety. The first thing that struck us was the unfriendly welcome we received. However, our initial impressions turned out very differently. I think that the initial impression of unfriendliness was caused by all the tension which the crews lived under. They were all leading a very unnatural life - one night living in a comfortable Mess miles away from the war and the next they would be right in it and nobody knew if would still be alive the next day.
I had to contact the Squadron Training Officer, F/Lt Ted Mercer, as we were supposed to do about a fortnight's flying before doing our first operation and during this time I would be doing my second dickey trip with another crew. Spilsby was fourteen miles from Skegness which was a popular place with the crews as there was always plenty of amusement. A bus ran into Skegness as well as a train until that was cancelled owing to fellows fooling around uncoupling the coaches.
I had to contact the Squadron Training Officer, F/Lt Ted Mercer, as we were supposed to do about a fortnight's flying before doing our first operation and during this time I would be doing my second dickey trip with another crew. Spilsby was fourteen miles from Skegness which was a popular place with the crews as there was always plenty of amusement. A bus ran into Skegness as well as a train until that was cancelled owing to fellows fooling around uncoupling the coaches.
The second night after our arrival we all went to Skegness where we visited the Ship which was a pub in the town. Most of the hotels had been taken over by the RAF and many of its shops had been bombed, but there was a rather pleasant front by the sea and the pier was still there although not in use. There was a fun fair on the beach which did a roaring trade in the evenings after the pubs had shut. Spilsby was our nearest village and about three miles from the mess. It was a small county town with an old world atmosphere. On our first Sunday after our arrival P.G. (a friend) and I went to Spilsby to have a look around and were pleased with what we saw.
The village consisted of one long street with a market place at one end on which were half a dozen pubs. P.G. and 1 went into a respectable looking place called the White Hart which was one of the oldest and best in Spilsby. We had a couple of beers and took stock of things. We were both starting our tour of operations together, which either one of us or even both might not get through and during the coming week we would be doing our first trip as second dickey. The thought of being shot down on that first trip was uppermost in our minds. Little did we know that indeed P.G. was to lose his life on that first trip! The thought was, of course, that it couldn't happen to me!
The following night I did my first flying from Spilsby in the form of a cross-country exercise.
The next day, Tuesday 10th April 1945, P.G. and I were told we would be doing our second dickey trips that night. As soon as I knew I was 'ON" that night I fell very excited and at the same time rather scared with a very peculiar feeling in my inside, something akin to feeling a little sick which was no doubt due to nerves. Everybody felt the same way for the first few trips although they never really seemed to get used to them, but of course the last thing was to show any nervousness.
After tea P.G. and I went back to our billet to leave our belongings in our suitcases and on the way P.G. spotted an egg lying in the hedge quite close to our hut and joyously stated that he was going to have it for breakfast the following morning! The two of us were like a couple of excited schoolboys going for an outing. P.G. said he was sure that an 'op' was no worse than being under fire in the army and he thought that most of the fellows made more fuss about them than was necessary! Anyway we would shortly be finding out! We both went to the briefing room together and arrived in good time to meet our prospective pilots. My skipper was Denis Royston-Piggott. a chap of about 28 and I took an immediate liking to him as he instilled confidence. He was a very experienced pilot and had made 27 previous trips so should by that time have known something about combat flying.
Before the briefing started we were all given escape aids in case we were shot down and had to escape. The aids were in a small box and contained all sorts of useful things including maps and money. W/Cdr Stan Flett arrived to give us our briefing. He was a Rhodesian who had been on the course with me at Bruntingthorpe.
The target that night was some railway marshalling yards to the north of Leipzig and H Hour was midnight. The time allowed for us to be over the target area was H to H + 3 minutes otherwise we were to return with our bombs to base. Metallised strips, which were called "Window" {used to deceive ground radars) had to be thrown out from a certain position about twenty minutes before the target at a specified rate and then at ten minutes before the target the rate had to be doubled until the same time had elapsed on the other side of the target.
There were 70 other Lancasters on this raid and at the same time there were to be several diversions or spoof attacks. We were also to have a few Mosquito night fighters flying with the main force to help us in case of need. We would be flying at 4000ft all the way out to within half an hour of the target when we were to climb as hard as we could to 12000ft, our bombing height. Having dropped the bombs and taken our photos we were to descend as quickly as possible to 4000ft once more.
Next on the programme was the flying meal, the usual eggs and bacon. By this time everything was rather a rush and we all made bee lines for our respective messes. Actually they ran motor coaches for us and afterwards brought us back. By now it was getting on for six o'clock and Denis Royston-Piggott's navigator was busy working out the flight plan in the briefing room. By the time we had put on our flying clothing it was 6.45 and take-off had been fixed for eight o'clock. Denis's aircraft was 'O' Oboe which was parked just outside the main briefing room; this was a brand new aeroplane and was later to become my aeroplane until somebody pranged it while I was on leave.
We all wandered over to the aeroplane at seven as we had to do the run up and check everything was in order. We then got out again and sat on the grass for a smoke and I think most of us finished our flying rations consisting of two bars of chocolate and a bag of sweets. This was always the worst time before an operation as there were so many things that go through one's mind and everyone was keyed up and tense. My tummy felt it was full of butterflies and I knew the others were feeling the same. Although it was still only early April the evening was warm and it was most pleasant sitting out there on that lovely spring evening. It was hard to realise that here we were sitting in utter peace and quiet and hundreds of miles from any war and yet in another four and a half hours could all be in the thick of it. We climbed back on board the aeroplane at a quarter to eight and started up the engines. I had to stand just behind the flight engineer who sat next to Denis. There wasn't too much room in the cockpit as there were piles of packets of 'Window' which we would be throwing out near the target.
Having settled in and started the engines it was amazing the way that awful sinking feeling disappeared and I hardly fell nervous at all. I had a great feeling of elation of at last being able to take part in an actual raid on the enemy. This was what I had joined up to do and it was the culmination of all those long months of training. We were fifth in order to take off and had to taxi up to the caravan and await our turn. At take-off strict radio silence was observed and the whole take off was controlled from the caravan, positioned at the end of the runway.
The village consisted of one long street with a market place at one end on which were half a dozen pubs. P.G. and 1 went into a respectable looking place called the White Hart which was one of the oldest and best in Spilsby. We had a couple of beers and took stock of things. We were both starting our tour of operations together, which either one of us or even both might not get through and during the coming week we would be doing our first trip as second dickey. The thought of being shot down on that first trip was uppermost in our minds. Little did we know that indeed P.G. was to lose his life on that first trip! The thought was, of course, that it couldn't happen to me!
The following night I did my first flying from Spilsby in the form of a cross-country exercise.
The next day, Tuesday 10th April 1945, P.G. and I were told we would be doing our second dickey trips that night. As soon as I knew I was 'ON" that night I fell very excited and at the same time rather scared with a very peculiar feeling in my inside, something akin to feeling a little sick which was no doubt due to nerves. Everybody felt the same way for the first few trips although they never really seemed to get used to them, but of course the last thing was to show any nervousness.
After tea P.G. and I went back to our billet to leave our belongings in our suitcases and on the way P.G. spotted an egg lying in the hedge quite close to our hut and joyously stated that he was going to have it for breakfast the following morning! The two of us were like a couple of excited schoolboys going for an outing. P.G. said he was sure that an 'op' was no worse than being under fire in the army and he thought that most of the fellows made more fuss about them than was necessary! Anyway we would shortly be finding out! We both went to the briefing room together and arrived in good time to meet our prospective pilots. My skipper was Denis Royston-Piggott. a chap of about 28 and I took an immediate liking to him as he instilled confidence. He was a very experienced pilot and had made 27 previous trips so should by that time have known something about combat flying.
Before the briefing started we were all given escape aids in case we were shot down and had to escape. The aids were in a small box and contained all sorts of useful things including maps and money. W/Cdr Stan Flett arrived to give us our briefing. He was a Rhodesian who had been on the course with me at Bruntingthorpe.
The target that night was some railway marshalling yards to the north of Leipzig and H Hour was midnight. The time allowed for us to be over the target area was H to H + 3 minutes otherwise we were to return with our bombs to base. Metallised strips, which were called "Window" {used to deceive ground radars) had to be thrown out from a certain position about twenty minutes before the target at a specified rate and then at ten minutes before the target the rate had to be doubled until the same time had elapsed on the other side of the target.
There were 70 other Lancasters on this raid and at the same time there were to be several diversions or spoof attacks. We were also to have a few Mosquito night fighters flying with the main force to help us in case of need. We would be flying at 4000ft all the way out to within half an hour of the target when we were to climb as hard as we could to 12000ft, our bombing height. Having dropped the bombs and taken our photos we were to descend as quickly as possible to 4000ft once more.
Next on the programme was the flying meal, the usual eggs and bacon. By this time everything was rather a rush and we all made bee lines for our respective messes. Actually they ran motor coaches for us and afterwards brought us back. By now it was getting on for six o'clock and Denis Royston-Piggott's navigator was busy working out the flight plan in the briefing room. By the time we had put on our flying clothing it was 6.45 and take-off had been fixed for eight o'clock. Denis's aircraft was 'O' Oboe which was parked just outside the main briefing room; this was a brand new aeroplane and was later to become my aeroplane until somebody pranged it while I was on leave.
We all wandered over to the aeroplane at seven as we had to do the run up and check everything was in order. We then got out again and sat on the grass for a smoke and I think most of us finished our flying rations consisting of two bars of chocolate and a bag of sweets. This was always the worst time before an operation as there were so many things that go through one's mind and everyone was keyed up and tense. My tummy felt it was full of butterflies and I knew the others were feeling the same. Although it was still only early April the evening was warm and it was most pleasant sitting out there on that lovely spring evening. It was hard to realise that here we were sitting in utter peace and quiet and hundreds of miles from any war and yet in another four and a half hours could all be in the thick of it. We climbed back on board the aeroplane at a quarter to eight and started up the engines. I had to stand just behind the flight engineer who sat next to Denis. There wasn't too much room in the cockpit as there were piles of packets of 'Window' which we would be throwing out near the target.
Having settled in and started the engines it was amazing the way that awful sinking feeling disappeared and I hardly fell nervous at all. I had a great feeling of elation of at last being able to take part in an actual raid on the enemy. This was what I had joined up to do and it was the culmination of all those long months of training. We were fifth in order to take off and had to taxi up to the caravan and await our turn. At take-off strict radio silence was observed and the whole take off was controlled from the caravan, positioned at the end of the runway.
At last we were given the green light and Denis opened the throttles and we were trundling down the runway. The aircraft seemed to be fairly straining at the leash under full power of 3000 revs and 18 lbs boost. We were up to our maximum all up weight of 68000 lbs and the aircraft accelerated slowly and flying speed was only reached nearly at the end of the runway when Denis pulled her off the ground. It was a relief to be safely airborne after taking off with a full bomb load.
Our first track was down to Reading, which was the rendezvous point for all the aircraft on this raid. Reading was used as a rendezvous for nearly all the operations over central and southern Europe at this time. Soon after take-off I sat alongside Denis and all round us we could see other Lancasters all making for Reading. On our first track we were travelling straight into the sun which meant that we had to keep an extra special lookout for other aircraft. 44 and 207 Squadrons had each provided 18 aircraft for the operation which meant a total of 36 aircraft out of Spilsby.
Our first track was down to Reading, which was the rendezvous point for all the aircraft on this raid. Reading was used as a rendezvous for nearly all the operations over central and southern Europe at this time. Soon after take-off I sat alongside Denis and all round us we could see other Lancasters all making for Reading. On our first track we were travelling straight into the sun which meant that we had to keep an extra special lookout for other aircraft. 44 and 207 Squadrons had each provided 18 aircraft for the operation which meant a total of 36 aircraft out of Spilsby.
It was a lovely clear sunny evening and we had a pleasant flight of forty minutes down lo Reading where, by the time we arrived, there already seemed to be a large number of aircraft. Everything in the English country side looked so peaceful and quiet. I had nothing to do sitting next to Denis and I thought what a strange war this was that we were on our way to create havoc over one of Germany's largest cities and that in another three hours all hell would be let loose on a lot of people I had never seen; some would be killed and, more important, I wondered just how many of our crews would return to their bases in England. It was warm sitting there and tended to make one drowsy. They had given us caffeine tablets to help keep us awake, but I felt it better to rely on my own powers to stay awake.
Over France it was light for the first half hour and it didn't get properly dark until we crossed the Rhine. We passed fairly close to the Ruhr pocket where fierce fighting was going on and every few seconds we could see great flashes of gunfire which lit up the ground below with a kind of orange light. On the ground below us we could see convoys of vehicles making their way slowly along the roads with dimmed lights. The black out, apart from the transport lights, seemed to be good. Just before crossing the front line, which was then only half an hour's flight to Leipzig, we started to climb up to our bombing height. We didn't see much firing and it appeared the Germans were far too busy retreating. All the way along Denis had been pointing things out to me such as gunfire and the odd piece of flak.
We now had to keep an exceptionally good lookout for enemy fighters as it was known that Gerry night fighters took a delight in sneaking up from underneath with upward firing guns so every couple of minutes we carried out a banking search. At this time I climbed out of the engineer's seat and stood behind the pilot helping the engineer to throw out packets of 'Window' down the chute which came up on the right hand side of the cockpit. It was now about twenty to twelve and we were listening in on the R/T and could hear the controller calling up his deputies testing the radio. At precisely ten to twelve we saw the first green target indicator go down and heard the controller telling a deputy that he was going down to have a look to see if it was in the right place. A few minutes later flares were being dropped in great numbers all over the target area and the controller was telling the Pathfinder aircraft to back up the greens with reds and yellows as he was satisfied that the first green target indicator was in the correct position, it all sounded so calm and just like an ordinary telephone conversation.
By this time a whole forest of searchlights had sprung up to the south west of the target and heavy anti-aircraft fire was bursting well above us, however this didn't keep up for long and we knew that fighters must be in the vicinity. A few miles away on our starboard side we saw a fighter flare dropped. Fighters used to drop flares so that the enemy aircraft would be silhouetted against the light. It was now about two minutes to H Hour and the whole area was lit up like daylight. We could see dozens of other aircraft all round us. On our starboard side we suddenly caught sight of a Gerry fighter which our mid upper gunner identified as an Me 110. However we soon lost sight of it.
Just before the H Hour the controller called up all the main force aircraft telling them to come in and commence bombing. This was the most exciting moment of the whole thing and I must say I felt really scared. On the run up to bomb I saw another Lancaster a couple of hundred yards away behind us crossing from port to starboard and a couple of hundred feet higher than us with Its starboard outer engine blazing; four parachutes opened quickly beneath it and I wondered who had been so unlucky. I only hoped it wasn't P.G.'s aircraft. I quite expected to see one of our own engines burst into flames at any moment. While still on the run up we saw a Ju 88 night fighter pass us about three hundred yards away on the port side going in the opposite direction. It was so light that we could even see the outline of the pilot's head in the cockpit. Our gunners didn't shoot for fear of bringing him into the attack. That gave me quite a fright and I hastily said a prayer under my breath.
Having dropped our bombs, the twenty seconds that we had to fly straight and level before taking our photograph seemed interminable. We saw another Lancaster on fire but the crew may not have left as it was only losing height very slowly. Having taken our photograph we lost height very rapidly to 5000 feet to reach our next turning point fifteen miles south west of the target and we appeared to be heading for a big battery of searchlights. We turned early but were picked up by several beams, however we were soon able to throw them off. The lights were very inaccurate and were weaving about all over the sky. There were a few Blue Beam Master searchlights, but they too appeared to be inaccurate. Soon we settled down on our long course for home. Dennis told me we had seen more than they usually saw on similar operations. We were now back in darkness once more. All that death and destruction had taken place in the matter of a quarter of an hour and our bombs had not yet exploded as they were fitted with half hour delay fuses.
Over France it was light for the first half hour and it didn't get properly dark until we crossed the Rhine. We passed fairly close to the Ruhr pocket where fierce fighting was going on and every few seconds we could see great flashes of gunfire which lit up the ground below with a kind of orange light. On the ground below us we could see convoys of vehicles making their way slowly along the roads with dimmed lights. The black out, apart from the transport lights, seemed to be good. Just before crossing the front line, which was then only half an hour's flight to Leipzig, we started to climb up to our bombing height. We didn't see much firing and it appeared the Germans were far too busy retreating. All the way along Denis had been pointing things out to me such as gunfire and the odd piece of flak.
We now had to keep an exceptionally good lookout for enemy fighters as it was known that Gerry night fighters took a delight in sneaking up from underneath with upward firing guns so every couple of minutes we carried out a banking search. At this time I climbed out of the engineer's seat and stood behind the pilot helping the engineer to throw out packets of 'Window' down the chute which came up on the right hand side of the cockpit. It was now about twenty to twelve and we were listening in on the R/T and could hear the controller calling up his deputies testing the radio. At precisely ten to twelve we saw the first green target indicator go down and heard the controller telling a deputy that he was going down to have a look to see if it was in the right place. A few minutes later flares were being dropped in great numbers all over the target area and the controller was telling the Pathfinder aircraft to back up the greens with reds and yellows as he was satisfied that the first green target indicator was in the correct position, it all sounded so calm and just like an ordinary telephone conversation.
By this time a whole forest of searchlights had sprung up to the south west of the target and heavy anti-aircraft fire was bursting well above us, however this didn't keep up for long and we knew that fighters must be in the vicinity. A few miles away on our starboard side we saw a fighter flare dropped. Fighters used to drop flares so that the enemy aircraft would be silhouetted against the light. It was now about two minutes to H Hour and the whole area was lit up like daylight. We could see dozens of other aircraft all round us. On our starboard side we suddenly caught sight of a Gerry fighter which our mid upper gunner identified as an Me 110. However we soon lost sight of it.
Just before the H Hour the controller called up all the main force aircraft telling them to come in and commence bombing. This was the most exciting moment of the whole thing and I must say I felt really scared. On the run up to bomb I saw another Lancaster a couple of hundred yards away behind us crossing from port to starboard and a couple of hundred feet higher than us with Its starboard outer engine blazing; four parachutes opened quickly beneath it and I wondered who had been so unlucky. I only hoped it wasn't P.G.'s aircraft. I quite expected to see one of our own engines burst into flames at any moment. While still on the run up we saw a Ju 88 night fighter pass us about three hundred yards away on the port side going in the opposite direction. It was so light that we could even see the outline of the pilot's head in the cockpit. Our gunners didn't shoot for fear of bringing him into the attack. That gave me quite a fright and I hastily said a prayer under my breath.
Having dropped our bombs, the twenty seconds that we had to fly straight and level before taking our photograph seemed interminable. We saw another Lancaster on fire but the crew may not have left as it was only losing height very slowly. Having taken our photograph we lost height very rapidly to 5000 feet to reach our next turning point fifteen miles south west of the target and we appeared to be heading for a big battery of searchlights. We turned early but were picked up by several beams, however we were soon able to throw them off. The lights were very inaccurate and were weaving about all over the sky. There were a few Blue Beam Master searchlights, but they too appeared to be inaccurate. Soon we settled down on our long course for home. Dennis told me we had seen more than they usually saw on similar operations. We were now back in darkness once more. All that death and destruction had taken place in the matter of a quarter of an hour and our bombs had not yet exploded as they were fitted with half hour delay fuses.
The flight back to Spilsby took us three and a half hours and was uneventful, but we did see the odd aircraft and on crossing the English coast all the aircraft put on their navigation lights. I took over from Dennis for a couple of hours and handed over to him soon after turning at Reading for the last leg to Spilsby. We were to be third in turn to land, but unfortunately our R/T set broke down and we had to circle for another forty minutes before we finally got down after being airborne for eight and a half hours. It was wonderful to be back in England safely and I felt I had done a worth-while job and it only remained for me to start taking my own crew on operations. We hadn't far to walk to the briefing room for debriefing where we found hot coffee and cigarettes on the house.
Our particular Intelligence Officer was Joyce, an elderly WAAF officer and a real old dear who took a tremendous interest in the crews and all that was going on. We then heard that Pat Kennedy's aircraft hadn't returned and was missing. P.G. was doing his second dickey trip with him and it came as a terrible shock. At the time I hoped it wasn't true and that they would return later or at the worst the crew were POWs. It was impossible to think of P.G. as a goner as he was such a grand chap and a pal I thought I had made for life. I thought to myself how lucky that I had been chosen to fly with Dennis Royston-Piggott and not Pat Kennedy. I had indeed had a narrow escape!
The next morning we were woken up when a chap came into the billet and asked which was P/O Woodhouse's bed saying "Some chap by the name of Woodhouse got the chop last night" and then started removing all PG's kit. Johnny Coom had arrived by this time and moved straight into P.G.'s bed: he wasn't very keen to start with but we insisted he came over into our hut and that was the only vacant bed.
It might be as well to report on a newspaper article sent to me dated 20th July 1946: After a relentless search through the Hartz Mountains a team of British war crimes investigators rounded up 20 German civilians alleged to have massacred five RAF men. The Germans, mainly members of the Hitler Youth, were to be tried in August. The story was told to Reuters correspondent by one of the two survivors, Warrant Officer James Bradley of Plymouth. Ten British Airmen were shot down near Strasbourg while flying to bomb Leipzig in March 1945. Seven were captured by the Wehrmacht and kept on the move for three days without sleep. Eventually they were marched into the town of Pforzheim. They were marched from one end of the town to the other, although they were nearly all near collapse owing to lack of sleep. The local people stoned them and would have torn them to pieces, but the guards kept them back.
That evening a party of Germans in civilian clothes rushed into their billet and dragged them half naked to a barn. Luftwaffe officers, who seemed to have some kindred feeling for them, tried to stop the mob during a scuffle and three escaped. Five others were beaten with clubs and dragged to a cemetery and shot at the gates. One of the airmen who escaped was caught the next day, shot and thrown into a quarry. Later W/O Bradley was captured by the Wehrmacht for which he was thankful. The mangled bodies of the murdered airmen were all recovered and were reburied by the French with military honours. It would appear that this report refers to Pat Kennedy's crew although I have been unable to verify it. We were of course all very upset that P.G. was no longer with us.
Spilsby seemed to be improving and we seemed to have broken the crust and got to know a lot more of the chaps. There was a fair amount of activity with the squadrons going out about three or four times a week but often there would be only seven or so aircraft from each squadron. As we had forty crews on 44 Squadron it meant that the same crews were not required every night. It also meant that eight crews would be on leave at a time. Our leave spells would come round every six weeks when we would get nine days off. That worked out at five trips between leaves which was slow going.
On Tuesday 17th April I was told I was going on my first raid with the crew. Fergi told me in the morning so I warned the crew and the War List went up after lunch to go in 'F ' Fox. I was excited all over again and had that horrible feeling of fear in my inside once more. Briefing was late in the afternoon and the target this time was some railway marshalling yards at Cham, a place in South East Germany on the Czechoslovak border. It was a very narrow target being only a hundred yards wide and seven hundred yards long so we would have to aim our bombs very carefully. Time to be on the target was 4 am which necessitated a take-off at midnight. Bomb load was to be 10,500 lbs and, as Alex and i were doing our first trips, we were given an extra hundred gallons of fuel which would give us an extra half hours flying in case of need.
Our particular Intelligence Officer was Joyce, an elderly WAAF officer and a real old dear who took a tremendous interest in the crews and all that was going on. We then heard that Pat Kennedy's aircraft hadn't returned and was missing. P.G. was doing his second dickey trip with him and it came as a terrible shock. At the time I hoped it wasn't true and that they would return later or at the worst the crew were POWs. It was impossible to think of P.G. as a goner as he was such a grand chap and a pal I thought I had made for life. I thought to myself how lucky that I had been chosen to fly with Dennis Royston-Piggott and not Pat Kennedy. I had indeed had a narrow escape!
The next morning we were woken up when a chap came into the billet and asked which was P/O Woodhouse's bed saying "Some chap by the name of Woodhouse got the chop last night" and then started removing all PG's kit. Johnny Coom had arrived by this time and moved straight into P.G.'s bed: he wasn't very keen to start with but we insisted he came over into our hut and that was the only vacant bed.
It might be as well to report on a newspaper article sent to me dated 20th July 1946: After a relentless search through the Hartz Mountains a team of British war crimes investigators rounded up 20 German civilians alleged to have massacred five RAF men. The Germans, mainly members of the Hitler Youth, were to be tried in August. The story was told to Reuters correspondent by one of the two survivors, Warrant Officer James Bradley of Plymouth. Ten British Airmen were shot down near Strasbourg while flying to bomb Leipzig in March 1945. Seven were captured by the Wehrmacht and kept on the move for three days without sleep. Eventually they were marched into the town of Pforzheim. They were marched from one end of the town to the other, although they were nearly all near collapse owing to lack of sleep. The local people stoned them and would have torn them to pieces, but the guards kept them back.
That evening a party of Germans in civilian clothes rushed into their billet and dragged them half naked to a barn. Luftwaffe officers, who seemed to have some kindred feeling for them, tried to stop the mob during a scuffle and three escaped. Five others were beaten with clubs and dragged to a cemetery and shot at the gates. One of the airmen who escaped was caught the next day, shot and thrown into a quarry. Later W/O Bradley was captured by the Wehrmacht for which he was thankful. The mangled bodies of the murdered airmen were all recovered and were reburied by the French with military honours. It would appear that this report refers to Pat Kennedy's crew although I have been unable to verify it. We were of course all very upset that P.G. was no longer with us.
Spilsby seemed to be improving and we seemed to have broken the crust and got to know a lot more of the chaps. There was a fair amount of activity with the squadrons going out about three or four times a week but often there would be only seven or so aircraft from each squadron. As we had forty crews on 44 Squadron it meant that the same crews were not required every night. It also meant that eight crews would be on leave at a time. Our leave spells would come round every six weeks when we would get nine days off. That worked out at five trips between leaves which was slow going.
On Tuesday 17th April I was told I was going on my first raid with the crew. Fergi told me in the morning so I warned the crew and the War List went up after lunch to go in 'F ' Fox. I was excited all over again and had that horrible feeling of fear in my inside once more. Briefing was late in the afternoon and the target this time was some railway marshalling yards at Cham, a place in South East Germany on the Czechoslovak border. It was a very narrow target being only a hundred yards wide and seven hundred yards long so we would have to aim our bombs very carefully. Time to be on the target was 4 am which necessitated a take-off at midnight. Bomb load was to be 10,500 lbs and, as Alex and i were doing our first trips, we were given an extra hundred gallons of fuel which would give us an extra half hours flying in case of need.
Lancaster I R5729 KM-A of 44 Squadron
We finally went out to the aircraft just before eleven to do the run up. Dave had plenty of time to work out his flight plan. I had never flown in "F" Fox before, but the ground crew said it was a good aeroplane. We were one of the first to take off and this was the first time I had taken off with a full load with a maximum all up weight of 680001bs, however with full power the aircraft fairly rushed down the runway and it wasn't long before we were airborne.
Our cruising height was 5000ft which we soon reached and set course for Reading. It was a pitch dark night and we had all our navigation lights on to start with and it seemed as if there must be hundreds of aircraft in the sky. although I knew it was a fairly small effort and that there were only about seventy aircraft on the raid. We couldn't see anything on the ground although we could just discern the outline of the coast when we crossed it.
Our cruising height was 5000ft which we soon reached and set course for Reading. It was a pitch dark night and we had all our navigation lights on to start with and it seemed as if there must be hundreds of aircraft in the sky. although I knew it was a fairly small effort and that there were only about seventy aircraft on the raid. We couldn't see anything on the ground although we could just discern the outline of the coast when we crossed it.
The first four hours of the trip were the essence of monotony and it was difficult to keep awake. I had the auto-pilot doing the work for me, but later it packed up and I had to fly the aeroplane myself. All the way to the target we seemed to be hitting other people's slipstreams which was uncomfortable although it did give one a feeling that we were not alone. It was usually the chaps who strayed away from the stream that the fighters got and there were always a few of these real ‘Joes’ on every trip. People had even been known to forget to put out their navigation lights, which was asking for trouble.
We saw very little on the outward trip and half an hour before the target we heard the controller calling up and testing with his deputies; he was the same controller I had heard on my second dickey trip with Dennis. Lee was sitting next to me throwing out the window strips while Bill was doing his best to get a fix for Dave on the Loran and he finally went down to the nose position quarter of an hour before the target. The first T.I. dropped about ten minutes to four and the controller went down to have a look and then called in the rest of the P.F.F. aircraft. Soon the whole area was illuminated like daylight and after a lot of reds and yellows had gone down we were called and told to bomb the North-West corner of the cluster of reds and yellows. This was just a few minutes before H Hour. I was gaily doing banking searches, but we didn't see a thing except our own aircraft. Everything seemed amazingly quiet as I had expected to see a few fighters around as we had been warned that there was a big fighter station near Nuremburg which was only a hundred miles away from Cham. There wasn't a searchlight to be seen and on the run up lo the target: we seemed to have all the sky to ourselves. Although there didn't appear to be any opposition we all felt very tense in the target area and kept a very careful lookout.
Our bombing height was 10,000 ft and the heading was roughly due south. This was the first time Bill had dropped any real bombs and he was doubly careful and started giving me directions a long time before the target. Derek was supposed to pick up the wind details which had to be set on the bomb-sight and I told Dave to give me the latest wind available. The run up was a really good one with only a few corrections and then Bill yelled ‘Bombs gone' and the aircraft fairly leapt upwards. What a relief it was, however we still had to fly straight and level for another 24 seconds to take the photo. The bombs had half hour delay fuses so again we never saw them detonate.
The biggest relief came after we had taken our photo and I shoved the control column forward and we fairly screamed down to 4000ft. Shortly after we had passed the target, Syd shouted that he had seen a fighter and I was about to corkscrew, but we saw nothing more and settled down to our journey home. About twenty miles from the target we passed over some lights which looked like a decoy of reds and yellows in what looked like a lot of ruined houses. However we never found out what it really was. When we reached Spilsby the sun was up on a glorious calm morning and all the aerodromes we had flown over seemed to be like bee hives with aircraft circling all round them. On requesting permission to land we were told ‘prepare to land’ immediately which was just great.
On getting down we had an extraordinary sense of satisfaction of having done a good job well. We had in fact dropped our bombs at 0402. Everybody returned from that raid safely. Later in the day we all got quite a thrill listening to the BBC news telling us ‘Last night Bomber Command Lancasters attacked the marshalling yards at Cham - all our aircraft returned from the night's operations’. Well that trip was certainly a piece of cake and I was hoping that the rest of our trips would be like that.
For the next few days we had quite a lot of training to do as we had had H2S radar instruction at Swinderby and were chosen as a mining crew. Before one was allowed to go mining we had to have done at least six ops and a lot of H2S experience so our exercises consisted of using the H2S set.
Spilsby was an excellent place as far as the weather was concerned and towards the end of April we had some really nice weather and, being near the sea, were never troubled with smoke haze which occurred near the big industrial towns. Quite often in the mornings when we weren't doing anything we used to lie outside the hut in the sun and feel wonderfully warm. We hadn't much time for going out in the evenings as we had a lot of night flying to do and one was never certain when we were going to be needed.
David completed another operation and more training before the war in Europe ended in May. The large number of Australians on the squadron were repatriated from 1st June and the Rhodesians were the next to go. Before they left, David recalls . . .
I remember we had a big party for all the Rhodesians on the squadron which the Southern Rhodesian High Commissioner and the Air Liaison Officer attended. The Rhodesian Government paid for all the beer we consumed. Our Adjutant, F/Lt Colcutt (Collie) was about to be demobbed and there were speeches all round; he had been very popular with all on the squadron.
After his early disappointment about his reception at Spilsby it is interesting to consider his comments on being posted from there.
‘I was quite sorry to be leaving as I had had a wonderful time at Spilsby which had been the happiest time of my service life’.
Unfortunately, David, being a South African, wasn't eligible for repatriation with the Rhodesians. After more adventures, which included flying a Stirling to India. David was finally repatriated to South Africa in May 1946 and is now enjoying retirement in Cape Town.
We saw very little on the outward trip and half an hour before the target we heard the controller calling up and testing with his deputies; he was the same controller I had heard on my second dickey trip with Dennis. Lee was sitting next to me throwing out the window strips while Bill was doing his best to get a fix for Dave on the Loran and he finally went down to the nose position quarter of an hour before the target. The first T.I. dropped about ten minutes to four and the controller went down to have a look and then called in the rest of the P.F.F. aircraft. Soon the whole area was illuminated like daylight and after a lot of reds and yellows had gone down we were called and told to bomb the North-West corner of the cluster of reds and yellows. This was just a few minutes before H Hour. I was gaily doing banking searches, but we didn't see a thing except our own aircraft. Everything seemed amazingly quiet as I had expected to see a few fighters around as we had been warned that there was a big fighter station near Nuremburg which was only a hundred miles away from Cham. There wasn't a searchlight to be seen and on the run up lo the target: we seemed to have all the sky to ourselves. Although there didn't appear to be any opposition we all felt very tense in the target area and kept a very careful lookout.
Our bombing height was 10,000 ft and the heading was roughly due south. This was the first time Bill had dropped any real bombs and he was doubly careful and started giving me directions a long time before the target. Derek was supposed to pick up the wind details which had to be set on the bomb-sight and I told Dave to give me the latest wind available. The run up was a really good one with only a few corrections and then Bill yelled ‘Bombs gone' and the aircraft fairly leapt upwards. What a relief it was, however we still had to fly straight and level for another 24 seconds to take the photo. The bombs had half hour delay fuses so again we never saw them detonate.
The biggest relief came after we had taken our photo and I shoved the control column forward and we fairly screamed down to 4000ft. Shortly after we had passed the target, Syd shouted that he had seen a fighter and I was about to corkscrew, but we saw nothing more and settled down to our journey home. About twenty miles from the target we passed over some lights which looked like a decoy of reds and yellows in what looked like a lot of ruined houses. However we never found out what it really was. When we reached Spilsby the sun was up on a glorious calm morning and all the aerodromes we had flown over seemed to be like bee hives with aircraft circling all round them. On requesting permission to land we were told ‘prepare to land’ immediately which was just great.
On getting down we had an extraordinary sense of satisfaction of having done a good job well. We had in fact dropped our bombs at 0402. Everybody returned from that raid safely. Later in the day we all got quite a thrill listening to the BBC news telling us ‘Last night Bomber Command Lancasters attacked the marshalling yards at Cham - all our aircraft returned from the night's operations’. Well that trip was certainly a piece of cake and I was hoping that the rest of our trips would be like that.
For the next few days we had quite a lot of training to do as we had had H2S radar instruction at Swinderby and were chosen as a mining crew. Before one was allowed to go mining we had to have done at least six ops and a lot of H2S experience so our exercises consisted of using the H2S set.
Spilsby was an excellent place as far as the weather was concerned and towards the end of April we had some really nice weather and, being near the sea, were never troubled with smoke haze which occurred near the big industrial towns. Quite often in the mornings when we weren't doing anything we used to lie outside the hut in the sun and feel wonderfully warm. We hadn't much time for going out in the evenings as we had a lot of night flying to do and one was never certain when we were going to be needed.
David completed another operation and more training before the war in Europe ended in May. The large number of Australians on the squadron were repatriated from 1st June and the Rhodesians were the next to go. Before they left, David recalls . . .
I remember we had a big party for all the Rhodesians on the squadron which the Southern Rhodesian High Commissioner and the Air Liaison Officer attended. The Rhodesian Government paid for all the beer we consumed. Our Adjutant, F/Lt Colcutt (Collie) was about to be demobbed and there were speeches all round; he had been very popular with all on the squadron.
After his early disappointment about his reception at Spilsby it is interesting to consider his comments on being posted from there.
‘I was quite sorry to be leaving as I had had a wonderful time at Spilsby which had been the happiest time of my service life’.
Unfortunately, David, being a South African, wasn't eligible for repatriation with the Rhodesians. After more adventures, which included flying a Stirling to India. David was finally repatriated to South Africa in May 1946 and is now enjoying retirement in Cape Town.