A Special Duty

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by Jennifer Elkin


  One route up to the Italian Alps took aircraft over German-occupied Rome, La Spezia and Genoa, and the crew were given an unusual exercise to perform on the way; they called it “Playing silly B’s”. As they flew past Rome they turned towards the city in mock attack and, as they did this, the city lights would go off, the searchlights and sirens would come on, and up would come the flak. They then turned back on course and did the same over La Spezia and Genoa, knowing that, half-an-hour behind them another aircraft would do the same, making sure nobody on the ground got any rest. The reason for these mock attacks puzzled me, particularly as the aircraft did not carry bombs and seemed to be presenting themselves as targets unnecessarily, but the mock bombing raids were part of a wider picture in the spring of 1944. Allied troops had landed on the Anzio beaches in January4 and been unable to break out and move on Rome. During this period of stalemate Eisenhower and Montgomery had moved on to prepare for the invasion of France. It was given to General Wilson, Supreme Commander Mediterranean, to reduce the flow of supplies to German forces and make it impossible for them to move or operate effectively in central Italy. He issued a memorandum stating that: “The main function of all classes of bomber aircraft in a land campaign is to interfere with the movement of enemy forces and their supplies”. He was referring to traditional bombers, but the objective was to tie down the enemy, force them to expend ammunition and keep them away from the planned Overlord front and the Anzio beaches.viii Mock attacks by Halifax supply aircraft on a regular run up to Northern Italy were probably quite effective at assisting this strategy of disruption to enemy supply lines.

  “Maximum effort on Polish targets” was the instruction from 334 Wing for the 16th March, and all ten available aircraft were fitted with overload tanks for the trip, but a poor met forecast in the early afternoon meant removing all the overload tanks – an enormous effort – and the aircraft were switched to Italian and Greek targets. The Storey crew were given a supply drop to resistance fighters near Susa in the Piedmont region of northern Italy,5 and their recollections of that night would have nothing to do with the frustrating lack of reception signals in perfect visibility, but the sight of a huge glow in the sky as they turned for home. “The boys must have bombed Genoa and La Spezia,” they said, but no, it wasn’t that and as they flew on the glow got bigger. “Surely they haven’t done Rome?” No, they could see that it wasn’t Rome, and still the glow was getting bigger. “Good God, have the Germans bombed Naples?” They got closer and were finally able to see that the glow in the sky was coming from Vesuvius. It had erupted while they were airborne and was spewing out red-hot lava and sending smoke and flames high into the night sky. The crew had never seen anything like this before and decided to go in for a closer look, but an unexpected consequence of this action gave them a nasty shock. Hot debris melted on the aircraft’s plexiglass windscreen and reduced visibility to zero, forcing the penitent crew to land that night with Tom hanging out of the side window to see where he was going. There was great relief all round when, on getting back, they found that the wing commander had arrived back with his aircraft in even worse condition. In a far more perilous situation were the crews of the 340th Bomb Group stationed at Pompeii Airfield just a few kilometres from the foot of Mount Vesuvius. Almost all of their B-25 Mitchell medium bombers were damaged by the hot ash and some were even tipped onto their tails by the weight of debris.ix To have Vesuvius erupt at this critical period of the war seems almost theatrical – a force of nature exploding onto the scene as though the Gods had been unleashed in a fury. As the eruption progressed over the following nights, Brindisi itself was covered in a layer of volcanic dust.x

  Vesuvius, March 1944

  (Photo from NARA in College Park, MD) courtesy of Don Kaiser http://www.warwingsart.com/12thAirForce/Vesuvius.html Image 17:

  Fires and flames remained significant to Dad. In later years, he took enormous trouble rolling newspaper into coils for lighting a fire and then a double sheet would be stretched over the front to help the draw. We might be watching Top of the Pops, Mum busy in the kitchen, Cilla Black singing: “Anyone who had a heart would hold me…”, and from Dad: “She can belt out a song that one!” Then, more often than not, the newspaper would catch light and the flames would shoot high – Vesuvius in our back room – momentary flurry of activity, smoke making us cough and then we would all return to our pursuits, Dad gradually retreating into another place, staring at the flames hour after hour, elbows rested on knees, bent forward watching the flickering and dancing curls of light, the murmur of our young, chattering voices barely reaching him. We didn’t understand the significance of fires in those days – we were young and our minds were full of pop songs and school friends – but strangely enough it would be a fire that would one day lead us to an understanding of that “other place” and its significance for Tom. But that was for the future…

  Spotting the fires meant that, for the crew, the long cold hours of flight had not been in vain and they could record a DCO (did complete operation) in their logbook. The reception groups lit them more in hope than expectation, as experience had taught them that, even if the planes arrived, they didn’t necessarily drop. Basil Davidson of SAVANNA, after two months in the Vojvodina area with no supplies, put it like this:

  “Even when once or twice planes tried to reach us, we with the fires lit upon the ground could only hear the hum of their engines above the overcast, and they in the air could not see our fires. We would stand out in the snow for hours on end around a fire that Steve with inhuman skill had managed to kindle, lighting up at half past ten and tramping back to bed at two, wet and shivering, angry and disappointed. In the morning I would wireless: Planes heard over our fires zero one thirty hours. Confirm. And Base would confirm, trying to be cheerful: Sorry, no fires seen.”xi

  Mid-March was an unsettled period at Brindisi base: the Squadron was forced to make contingency plans for civil disturbance by anti-Badaglio elements in the town. Sten guns were made available at Headquarters and at the tented camp, and armed guards were placed on all aircraft, but despite the appearance on the streets of a few steel-helmeted loyalist guards, nothing developed. Things were however developing in eastern Yugoslavia, where German troops had been massing for the seventh offensive, determined to reoccupy the Sava and the plain of Semberija (Operation Wegweiser).xii Caught up in this was Major Basil Davidson, who sent an urgent message to Cairo: “Enemy in Racha yesterday – STOP – grateful any help you can give by speeding up sorties.”xiii The request was for ammunition and Bren guns, and Cairo responded quickly with two aircraft; Halifax JP161 flown by Flight Sergeant Clackett, which took off just after midnight, and Tom Storey’s JN888, which having returned from an Italian drop at 0300, was reloaded and back in the air later that day heading for the SAVANNA dropping ground at Brodac. Major Davidson and Tito’s General Sava waited for the supplies with the enemy closing in. They had been moving between Yugoslav territory and Hungarian-annexed areas on the far side of the Sava River in an attempt to liaise with left-wing resistance groups there, but were now caught up in an enemy operation to clear out partisan divisions who were making a nuisance of themselves blowing up trains and causing disruption on the Zagreb to Belgrade supply route. As the Croatian Waffen SS Division moved in, Davidson was forced to move quickly over the Sava River to temporary safety, and it was from there that he had sent his urgent signal to Cairo HQ. Flying conditions were poor, and the Storey crew were not optimistic about finding the drop zone, but unexpectedly, and to great delight, they found a clear cloud window over the target and immediately spotted the signal fires below. As they swept down and dropped the supplies bang on the signal fires, the partisans could be seen collecting the containers and a relieved and happy Tom Storey said: “Let’s do a beat up”6. He banked and brought the aircraft down low again over the camp and Eddie, from his position in the nose, looked down and watched as the slipstream caught the fires and scattered them to the four winds. The partisans flattened the
mselves on the ground and Tom dipped a wing before setting course for home and roaring off into the night.

  The story of this supply drop was known in the family as “The burning of Tito’s coat”, and other crew members spoke or wrote of the same incident. In all our anecdotal accounts however, the emergency supply drop was for Tito himself, who sent a signal the following day: “RAF saved the day but burned my bloody coat!”xiv Walter Davis remembered that a replacement coat was dropped to Tito and, years later at a post-war reception at the Yugoslav Embassy, the story of the coat was still talked about. I have tried very hard to find the evidence to corroborate this story, willing it to be true because the crew were quite sure of it, and as children we loved to hear it, but however much I trawl through records and log entries, Tito was eighty or so miles away at his HQ in Drvar at the time of the emergency drop. The evidence has not borne out the story and, although I live in hope of turning up that message from Tito, for the moment I have to accept that, if anyone’s coat was burned, it was probably that of Basil Davidson or General Sava. Davidson barely had time to gather in his supplies before the muffled thump of enemy mortar-fire forced him to move on, rushing a signal off to Cairo to make sure that further supplies were not dropped on the Brodac pinpoint: “Cancel RPT cancel pinpoint Brodac RPT Brodac. Enemy attacked at four hours GMT STOP pinpoint and signals tomorrow – sorry.” He sent a new pinpoint the following day, which was also quickly cancelled and finally a third, Mezgrazia, to which P/O Harding in Halifax BB422 dropped a further load on the night of 19/20th March.

  A real morale-booster in mid-March was the return of Brotherton-Ratcliffe and his crew, who had been hiding out and living like partisans since early January. Tom had flown his first sortie with ‘Brother Rat’ and so when the opportunity arose due to a bad weather stand down, he and the rest of the Squadron went along to hear Brotherton-Ratcliffe give an account of his experiences, and hopefully pick up a few tips on survival and escape in case they should need it themselves. The focus of operations had now switched to Poland and with DC3s of American 267 Squadron arriving daily to fly sorties out of Brindisi to Balkan targets, 148 Squadron was preparing to assist 1586 Polish Squadron in supplying the Polish Home Army, 800 miles from Brindisi. Halifax JN888 ‘Rita’, in which Tom had flown more than thirty missions, would not take part in the Polish drops; she needed an engine change and Wing Commander Pitt told Tom to fly her to the maintenance unit at Maison Blanche, Algeria. He added that since he thought the crew were all “barmy” he didn’t want to see them for a week! On the way there they flew over an erupting Stromboli, their second live volcano, and arrived in Algeria in time for Tom to celebrate his 24th birthday. Ever resourceful, he managed to get them into a hotel for South African airmen, rather than the tented transit camp they were assigned to. Tom left the hotel daily to check for an aircraft that they could take back to Brindisi and on the 5th April he came rushing back to say that they had all been put on a charge for staying at the hotel without permission! Luckily, Halifax JN925 was ready to return to Brindisi with freight and in their haste to get away before the charge took effect, Walter left his identity tags behind in the hotel. His mother had replaced the original string with a gold chain and a medallion which he found uncomfortable at night and so he had taken them off and left them by the bed.

  Back in Brindisi, they now flew whatever aircraft was available and the main thrust of air drops was to Poland. Polish pilots, many of whom had made their way out of Poland after the 1939 invasion and headed for England to join RAF Squadrons, began flying supplies into their homeland from England in 1941, but the long-distance flights and weather conditions meant heavy losses for relatively low tonnage of supplies. At the end of 1943 an all-Polish Squadron7 arrived at Brindisi under the command of Squadron Leader Krol and, together with 148 Squadron (who joined them in February 1944), they began supply operations to the Polish Home Army,8 a well-organised resistance force that took its orders from the London-based Polish government in exile. The Storey crew, along with seven other crews, were briefed for a Polish target on the 12th April, and with clear skies forecast everything augured well for the operation. Unfortunately during three take-off attempts the plane swung violently off the runway and Tom decided not to proceed,xv reporting the problem as magneto failure.9 A couple of nights later the crew took off with a supply load of nine containers and twelve packages for Home Army troops in the far north-east of Poland, close to the Belarus border;10 a round trip of eleven hours which they successfully completed.

  In an effort to provide further help to the Polish Home Army, a bridging operation got underway in April to transfer political figures, couriers, and intelligence material by air between London and Poland, using Gibraltar and Brindisi as staging points. The movement of personnel had previously been done overland which took weeks, but now that the winter snows had cleared it was possible to prepare a safe landing site near Lublin. Dakota FD919 of 267 Squadron left Brindisi for the first stage of Operation Wildhorn 1. The logistical difficulties of this operation were enormous, and Flight Lieutenant Harrod and his crew, who had nervously been standing by for a month, encountered poor weather, enemy flak, incorrect lights, and then had to land and take off again from a ploughed field airstrip.xvi Luckily all went to plan, and back at Brindisi a reception committee of RAF and Polish officers greeted the high-ranking General Tatar11 and four of his staff as they stepped off the plane on the first stage of their journey to London. The VIP visitors spent three days at Brindisi and, before leaving, the General gathered the aircrews together and, with Squadron Leader Krol translating his words, thanked them for dropping arms and supplies to patriots in Poland. He was then flown to Gibraltar and on to London, where he joined Polish HQ and tried to muster support for an uprising in Poland.

  The penultimate operation to Poland for the Storey crew was on the 16th April; a delivery of supplies to Polish Home Army forces south-east of Zwolen.12 The supply load of six containers and nine packages was considerably smaller than would normally be carried for Balkan and Italian zones because of the extra weight of fuel, which was carried in overload tanks in the wing bomb bays. The round trip of around 1,800 miles was on the limit of a Halifax’s reach and once airborne, the crew would endure ten or more hours of thunderous engine noise, intense cold and the very real danger of night-fighter attack. The rear gunner had the worst of it in his cramped turret, isolated but for the echoing voices of the other crew members over his headset, and always having to remain alert despite the numbing cold and tight confines. A couple of days later the Storey crew were back in the skies for the night of the ‘Big push’ on Poland, but this time they would not return; it would be the last flight of Halifax JP224.

  Notes

  1 Major McAdam (previously Head of TINGEWICK Mission)

  2 Taken from Squadron ORB Summary for 2nd March 1944

  3 Fixing their location using the stars, a common method of navigation on night flights

  4 Operation Shingle.

  5 Dropping ground ACOMB

  6 Beat up - to fly very low over those who are watching in celebration, or to show off.

  7 1586 Polish Squadron.

  8 Armia Krajowa (AK).

  9 Magneto is part of the engine ignition system.

  10 Dropping ground WYDRA

  11 Also known by pseudonym ‘Turski’.

  12 Dropping ground JARZAB

  CHAPTER 5

  SUNDAY 23rd APRIL 1944

  At 1938 hours precisely, Halifax JP 224 roared down the avenue of flares at Brindisi, eight minutes behind the Bruce crew and followed at short intervals by the nine aircraft of 148 Squadron that were also flying to Poland that night.1 Earlier, at the afternoon briefing, Tom Storey had learned that he and his crew were to take part in a big push to deliver supplies to the Polish Home Army, and that nineteen aircraft, eight of Polish 1586 Squadron and eleven of 148 Squadron, would be taking part. The Storey and Chalk crews, in the second and third take-off slots, were given a target in southe
rn Poland2 and were to drop their supply loads to the Polish Home Army 9th Infantry Regimenti, just outside the village of Franciszkow. Hap drew out a course to the target on a Mercator plan3, taking care to avoid known anti-aircraft batteries. Eddie then drew out the same plans on his air-to-ground maps, so that he knew the landmarks along the route. Both crews were flying aircraft from a new batch4 that had recently arrived at the base, and both would fail to complete the mission, though for different reasons.

  Eddie sat alongside Tom for take-off and set the throttles to full power, while the crew, in their take-off positions on the floor and facing aft, braced themselves against the rear wing spar. The aircraft gathered speed and, as they lifted off the ground, Tom retracted the undercarriage and adjusted the throttles to climb, keeping half an eye out, as always, for a suitable area to belly land in case of engine failure. The aircraft bounced and heaved its way through the turbulent cloud layer, and, once they had levelled off on a dead set course for Poland, Tom adjusted the controls to fly ‘hands off’, and flipped the lever on the left side of his seat to engage George (the aircraft’s gyro autopilot). His hand would never be far from this lever during the flight in case he needed to respond to equipment failure or take evasive action but for a brief moment, with the tension of take-off eased, Eddie lit two cigarettes – one for himself and one for Tom. It was part of a ritual they had. Then, disconnecting the intercom jack from his headset, Tom climbed out of his seat and moved through the aircraft to check on the crew and exchange a few reassuring gestures and hand signals. The deafening roar of the four Rolls Royce Merlin engines made any attempt at conversation futile, but a ‘thumbs up’, pointed finger, or a pat on the shoulder usually got the message across.ii The loneliest place on the aircraft was the rear turret, where gunner Jim Caradog Hughes would have no human contact for the next ten hours, and it would be up to the skipper to relieve his isolation and keep him involved via the crackling intercom. Patrick Stradling’s first task was to sort and rearrange the load, grouping the packages around the hatch in such a way that he could push them out in as few runs as possible when the time came. They were still four hours flying time from the drop zone, but the skipper needed to know that he could jettison the load quickly if a problem developed. The pile of bundles and packages would be stacked almost to the roof in the narrow fuselage and the only way past for a crew member who needed the Elsan at the rear of the plane, was to scramble over the top in full kit.

 

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