In February 1943, just four days before his 22nd birthday, David Holford was promoted to wing commander, the youngest man to hold this rank in Bomber Command and one of the youngest in the history of the Royal Air Force. On November 21 he was posted to Waltham to take command of 100 Squadron and, on the same day, a message was sent from 11 Base HQ at nearby Binbrook to Bomber Command headquarters marked for the attention of Air Chief Marshal Harris. It read: ‘All is now set for the Big Push. It is confirmed Wing Commander Holford is taking over 100 Squadron.’
On the morning of December 16 the squadron was ordered to prepare for a raid on Berlin and W/Cmdr Holford decided to put himself on the battle order as pilot of a crew which had had a particularly tough time. His wireless operator, Sgt Eric Mackay, later told the story of that operation to W/Cmdr Holford’s widow.
‘They were attacked by a night fighter on the way to Berlin and the damage the aircraft sustained slowed them down and they fell well behind the main bomber stream.
‘They were attacked again on the way back, a lone aircraft was a tempting target for the fighters. When they got back to base there was thick fog and several aircraft in the circuit were trying to get down. David was late back, but delayed landing to let some of the less experienced crews try first.
‘Eventually, running out of fuel, with a damaged aircraft and no visibility, he made an attempt to land, but hit rising ground with the tail and crashed. The rear turret broke clean away and the rear gunner was hurt, but not too badly. The wireless operator was also thrown clear and was uninjured.’ Their aircraft had hit high ground a few miles west of the airfield, not far from Kelstern,
‘There was thick snow on the ground and it was bitterly cold and Sgt Mackay stumbled around and found David lying clear of the aircraft. He found a parachute and managed to wrap it around him against the cold.
‘David was conscious and kept saying: “The crew? Are the crew all right?” It was typical of him, I think, that even in those circumstances his thoughts were for the others and not for himself.
‘It was a long time before any help came as the ambulances were already out dealing with all the crashes around Waltham. When they finally arrived he was dead. I have often wondered whether he died of exposure for his injuries were so slight, a small cut on his forehead and his legs broken just above the ankles.’ Four of his crew also died in the crash.
He was later buried alongside many of the other casualties of that awful night in the Cambridge Military Cemetery. On his gravestone is written: ‘Pass not this stone with sorrow, but with pride and strive to live as nobly as he died.’ Shortly after his death W/Cmdr Holford was awarded a second Mentioned in Despatches.
John Bratton was nine years old at the time. His family farmed land a couple of miles from the crash site and, like lots of small boys in Lincolnshire at the time, he was a keen collector of parts of wrecked aircraft, particularly Perspex which could be melted down to make all sorts of useful things. When he heard about the Lancaster coming down he set out across the fields to see the wreckage for himself. The aircraft had struck high ground before coming to rest in a valley less than three-quarters of a mile from the nearest dispersal at Kelstern and had broken into three pieces. It was close to what was locally known as Christmas Tree Wood and he remembers there was about six inches of snow on the ground and the Lancaster was ‘pretty well mashed up’. It was being guarded by a number of airmen, one of whom smashed part of the rear turret to give him some pieces of the prizes Perspex. His elder brother later used the farm tractor to help recover the Lancaster’s undercarriage, which had been torn off some distance from the crash site.
David Holford’s wife was to receive many tributes to her husband. Don Charlwood wrote to her: ‘He was the personification of all that was best in the Royal Air Force.’ S/Ldr Colin Scragg wrote: ‘He was capable of big things and his charm of manner, scrupulous fairness and unquestionable courage made him an outstanding leader of men.’
From F/Lt Nettleton: ‘He was the finest boy I have ever met’ and F/Lt Huxtable said: ‘I have never encountered anything like the devotion David inspired in everyone.’
G/Capt Carter, the station commander at Waltham, said the RAF had lost an ‘outstanding personality and squadron commander’ while a WAAF at Elsham, Section Officer Cookson, wrote to say: ‘I think he was one of the loveliest people I’ve ever known and I am so proud I knew him.’
From a PoW camp in Germany came a letter from Sgt Johnny Johnson saying ‘I shall remember him as the finest gentleman I shall ever know’ and the local doctor at Elsham, Dr T.H. Kirk, wrote to say: ‘I don’t think this ghastly war has done any more miserable thing than taking David Holford. The only tiny bit of comfort to you is that he did such wonderful things with his life in the short time he had.’
One man who flew with him at Elsham was S/Ldr Leonard Pipkin, who himself was to be killed in a bizarre accident while out shooting rabbits at Wymeswold in the summer of 1944.
He wrote: ‘I don’t think one could meet another man who would give so much confidence to a squadron before operations. He always chose the tough jobs. I can remember his last trip with 103, to Hamburg, always a tough target. David gave his usual piano solo and everyone was in high spirits in a short time. He would always press home the attacks, because he was true British and knew no fear. He was the perfect pilot.’
Chapter 13
Hard Times
Springtime Disasters and the Road
to Normandy
The Battle of Berlin may have been over and what became known as the Transportation Plan, in which Bomber Command would divert its attention to the disruption of rail and road links across France in readiness for the invasion, was about to begin but Harris hadn’t quite finished with long-distance German targets just yet.
During the early spring of 1944 he had come under increasing pressure to divert the growing strength away from area bombing to attacking targets vital to Germany’s so far little-diminished industrial strength. It was what the Americans were striving to do, at some considerable cost to themselves. But Harris was convinced the road he had set his forces on was the right one; smashing German cities would bring the enemy to its knees, of that he was sure. But even Harris, with all his single-mindedness and drive which was to border on ruthlessness, would have to come to heel eventually as the momentum for the invasion of Europe increased and he had set a date, April 1, when he would bow to the inevitable. His parting shot was to be an attack on Nuremberg, on the night of March 30-31, a city with key industries and one closely associated with the rise of the Nazis, and also a largely undamaged target on his lengthy area bombing list.
There would be a half moon, which would normally mean no long-distance bomber operations, but early Met indications were that that there would be high cloud protecting the bombers on the outward leg while the return would be made after the moon had set. American fighter sweeps were also expected to hit night-fighter airfields so Harris decided to gamble and go for Nuremberg. Even when a revised meteorological forecast was presented to him, suggesting the cloud cover may not be as extensive as at first thought, he refused to cancel the raid. It was, said Martin Middlebrook in his 1973 seminal work The Nuremberg Raid, yet another gamble. Generals, Middlebrook argued, fought perhaps half a dozen battles in their careers while Harris fought one every night and, as all military men will admit, every battle involved a gamble on one scale or another. But this was to be one that Arthur Harris was to lose and it was to cost his command dearly, 95 Lancasters and Halifaxes being shot down, another 10 destroyed in crashes largely due to battle damage while 48 returned showing the scars of flak or fighters. Worst still, 540 men were killed and another 148 became prisoners. Nine more managed to evade capture while 23 were wounded and three more injured in crashes. It was Bomber Command’s greatest defeat and it was the squadrons of 1 Group which were to suffer most. The raid itself was largely unsuccessful with many of the aircraft which reached the target area bombing Schweinfurt, so
me 55 miles away, by error, although the damage there to the city’s ball bearing industry proved to be more extensive than that caused in Nuremburg.
A 626 Squadron crew at Wickenby. They are (left to right) flight engineer E. Groom, bomb aimer W. Lamb, wireless operator P. Moore, pilot R. Wellham, navigator N. Knight,. Rear gunner J. Atherston and mid-upper J. Egan. They all survived their tour. (Wickenby Archive)
Nowhere were the losses felt more keenly than at Ludford Magna. 101 had sent 26 ABC-equipped aircraft on the raid and six were shot down and another crashed back in England, costing the lives of 45 of the 56 men on board those seven Lancasters. The surviving aircraft started arriving back at Ludford shortly after 5.30am on the morning of March 31 and it was only then that the crews began to tell their stories of the route to Nuremberg being marked by a trail of blazing aircraft. Within an hour or so 19 Lancasters were back, all but seven of them damaged by either flak or fighter shells, and the full horror of the night now began to unfold. Checks were made with other airfields in case the missing Lancasters had diverted but it soon became evident that 101 had suffered its worst night of the war and the worst of almost every squadron in Bomber Command.
When returning crews arrived in the messes for breakfast they were told to sit closer together for the sake of morale amongst ground personnel. Crews were asked to help themselves to their bacon and eggs as the WAAFS were too upset to serve them. One 101 Squadron pilot later recalled: ‘We waited and waited and waited. We were an experienced crew and accustomed to losing the odd one or two aircraft. But with nearly a third of the squadron missing, this was a big kick in the guts to us all. We waited up until nearly mid-day before going to our huts, stunned, shocked and silent.’There was a silver-tinted lining for some: wireless operator John Allison had recently joined the squadron as part of the crew of ‘Mac’ McHattie and remembered that the loss of so many men that night meant their leave was brought forward.
Hopes had been much higher at 9.15pm the previous night when the first of the 795 aircraft taking part in the raid took off from Elsham Wolds but by the time the front of the bomber stream reached the Belgian border the promised cloud cover had disappeared and the Lancasters and Halifaxes were bathed in moonlight. Worst still their route took them directly over two of the radio beacons over which ‘Tame Boar’ night fighters were circling. 1 Group aircraft had also been briefed to fly at a lower altitude, between 16,000 and 19,000 feet, than the rest of the bomber stream on the outward leg. Group policy by now was to fly with the maximum possible bomb load (tests had been carried out by 550 Squadron at North Killingholme to find out exactly how much a Lancaster could carry and it far exceeded what the designers had expected) and it was hoped the cloud cover would protect its heavily laden bombers. That decision was to cost its squadrons dearly.
Sgt Hannah and F/Sgt McDevitt pictured in front of the ubiquitous Nissen huts at Wickenby. (Wickenby Archive)
F/O Bailey and crew, 625 Squadron, Kelstern. With them are two members of the ground crew of their aircraft, Wee Wally Wallaby. (Clem Koder)
Most of the victims fell to night fighters, although one of the first 101 casualties, the aircraft of P/O Bill Adamson DFC and his crew, who were on their 29th operation, was mistakenly shot down by a 4 Group Halifax. Sgt Don Brinkhurst, the aircraft’s mid-upper gunner and one of three survivors, saw the Halifax about 300ft below them before there was a burst of tracer which set the Lancaster alight. Sgt Brinkhurst escaped capture, later flying on another 20 operations with 101. Four of the other losses at Ludford were attributed to fighters, while F/Sgt Gerald Tivey’s Lancaster was destroyed by flak. The squadron’s final loss was the aircraft of F/Sgt Edwin Thomas which crashed near Welford, Berkshire as it was returning to Lincolnshire, the Lancaster diving into the ground before exploding, killing all those on board.
A lucky escape. S/Ldr Hugh Grant-Dalton’s Lancaster Q-Queenie of 550 Squadron showing marks of a brush with a German night-fighter fitted with upward firing cannon after a raid on Stuttgart, March 1-2, 1944. (Author’s collection)
P/O John Carter and his 12 Squadron crew with their Lancaster Hellzapoppin who were lost on the Mailly-le-Camp raid. (Wickenby Register)
At Kirmington four of the 20 Lancasters 166 Squadron sent to Nuremberg failed to return. All four were experienced crews. F/Lt Gordon Procter had taken along a new pilot for experience on what was his crew’s 22nd operation, all eight men being killed when they were shot down by a fighter. F/Lt Frank Taylor was the only pilot to survive. He, too, was carrying a new pilot on what was known as a ‘second dickey’ trip, Sgt Allen Hughes, who had only recently arrived at Kirmington. He was killed along with the flight engineer, Sgt Eric Whitfield, but the others all became prisoners on what was their 18th operation.
460 Squadron at Binbrook had contributed 24 aircraft to the raid but three failed to return. One was flown by the vastly experienced S/Ldr Eric Utz DFC and Bar. He was on his 48th operation when it is believed his aircraft was hit by fire from a night fighter and exploded, the only survivor being his navigator who was blown clear. Utz was a flight commander with the squadron and was remembered as an efficient and confident pilot whose loss was taken particularly badly by the Australians at Binbrook. Another 1 Group flight commander lost that night was S/Ldr Tom Nicholls of 625 Squadron. He was on his 21st operation and, like many before and after, fell victim to a night fighter, the only loss from Kelstern that night.
At Elsham two of the 16 aircraft sent by 103 Squadron were lost, including that of F/O James Johnson, whose Lancaster, N-Nan, had been the very first to take off on the raid. He was killed along with five other members of his crew. The squadron’s other casualties were P/O Robert Tate’s crew, shot down on their first operation. A 576 Squadron aircraft was also lost from Elsham.
At North Killingholme two of 550’s Lancasters failed to return. One, flown by New Zealander F/Sgt Charles Foster, was caught by searchlights over Schweinfurt and brought down by flak. There were no survivors. The second aircraft lost from North Killingholme was flown by F/Sgt Arthur Jefferies, a colourful character who was on his 29th operation and had just been awarded a Conspicuous Gallantry Medal (see chapter entitled An Outstanding Act of Courage). Of the 1 Group squadrons operating that night only 100 at Waltham and 626 at Wickenby saw all their aircraft return although many came back with battle damage. Crews from both squadrons reported seeing numerous losses and when they heard the doleful announcement by the BBC newsreader: ‘Last night our bombers attacked Nuremberg and 96 of our aircraft failed to return’ they realised the full extent of what they had witnessed. At Waltham stories of destruction were disbelieved at the post-op briefing and were put down to crews seeing German ‘scarecrows’, special flares which were supposed to imitate exploding bombers. It was only some time later that it was realised the Germans possessed no such thing as ‘scarecrow’ flares, what crews were seeing were indeed exploding bombers. Not all crews saw what was happening. One bomb aimer from Waltham noted in his diary: ‘Quiet trip though lots of fighters and flares.’
A typical load for 20 Lancasters. This staged 101 Squadron photograph was taken for Illustrated magazine. The photograph itself is believed to have been taken at the still-unfinished airfield at Faldingworth to keep Ludford’s ABC Lancasters under wraps. (Vic Redfern)
Target for tonight is.... This picture dates from early 1944 at a pre-op briefing at North Killingholme. (Roland Hardy)
Nuremberg marked the nadir of Bomber Command’s operations and the zenith of the effectiveness of the Luftwaffe night fighter force. There would be other bad nights, including one in which 1 Group was to lose 28 aircraft, but a switch in targets and the terrible attrition wrought on the Luftwaffe by Allied, and particularly American, fighter operations, were to change to nature of the bomber war.
The main task of Bomber Command was now to support the coming invasion and over the next few weeks their primary role would be to attack marshalling yards, ammunition dumps and gun batteries, bombing raids which required
multiple smaller scale attacks, accurate marking and precision bombing, two qualities which were now very much achievable.
When operations resumed on the night of April 9-10 1 Group aircraft were involved in attacks on two different targets in addition to a costly mining operation in the Baltic. 100 Squadron aircraft were amongst 40 Lancasters to attack railway yards in Lille while other squadrons attacked yards in Villeneuve-St-George, near Paris, one Binbrook Lancaster failing to return. 166 Squadron contributed just two aircraft to the second of the railway attacks but the remainder of the squadron was sent on the 1,600-mile round trip to lay mines in Gydnia Bay in the Baltic. This was an operation carried out once again in bright moonlight and was to cost 1 Group six aircraft, three of them from Binbrook with one each from 12, 103 and 166 Squadrons. There was little wonder crews particularly detested these so-called ‘gardening’ sorties.
The following night there was an all-1 Group attack on the rail yards at Aulnoye. It was another costly night with seven of the 132 Lancasters sent failing to return. An eighth aircraft was destroyed in spectacular fashion at Kirmington where 22 aircraft had been prepared for the raid by 166 Squadron. Four Lancasters had taken off before P/O Dudley Gibbons’ aircraft swung as it was gathering speed and the undercarriage collapsed in a shower of sparks. It burst into flames and the crew got out quickly, fearing the bomb load may explode. The squadron commander, W/Cmdr Frank Powley, who was to be killed a year later while flying from Scampton, led the fire-fighting operations but, seeing what was about to happen, ordered everyone clear. With that at least nine of the 14 1,000lb bombs on board exploded, shattering windows in the surrounding area and blowing a crater 50ft wide in the middle of the main runway. The blast also damaged four other aircraft. There was no possibility of the other 17 aircraft getting away and the four that did had to land at North Killingholme after the raid. But, with a superhuman effort led by W/Cmdr Powley, the runway was repaired during the night and the following morning Kirmington was declared operational again.
1 Group Page 18
