by Alec Brew
There was great excitement as the wind and current was carrying them towards the land, but then the direction of the current changed and they found themselves being carried away from the island. They paddled for all they were worth, with the canvas paddles, but despite all their efforts did not seem to make much headway. They continued to paddle until after darkness fell, and then fired off Very lights at regular intervals. By 11 pm the shore was only a couple of hundred yards away, illuminated by the flares each time they were fired.
They made one last frantic effort, using what little energy they had left, and succeeded in beaching the dinghy on a flat rock at the base of some cliffs. As they sprawled on the rock recovering their energy, they heard voices on the cliffs above them, and then saw torches being carried down by a number of people. A group of Italians descended the cliffs and helped the exhausted crew to climb up to the lighthouse at Cape Testa, the extreme northern tip of Sardinia. They were welcomed wholeheartedly by the locals, who offered them a meal of spaghetti and coffee, and gave them a bed for the night.
In the morning the seven of them travelled to the Royal Navy headquarters at Maddelena, where they were put aboard a minesweeper en route to Ajjacio in Corsica. There, they were taken to the airfield and boarded a Dakota, which would take them back south again to North Africa. As they were waiting to take off, a Bf 109 appeared from nowhere and shot up the airfield, luckily without hitting the Dakota. From North Africa they were taken back to Great Britain in a Lancaster bomber.
Once home, they discovered that four other Halifaxes were lost on the same operation to Cannes, all shot down by German night fighters in the area of Calvados in northern France. Two of them were from No. 35 Squadron, HR798 and HR985, one from No. 78 Squadron, LW321, and one from No. 158 squadron, HR791. No. 35 Squadron’s ‘Milk Run’ to the Mediterrean had thus resulted in the loss of three of their aircraft, one of their worst nights of the year. Their worst night ever had been the night of 21 – 22 June 1943, when they had lost six aircraft on an operation to Krefeld, the worse losses recorded by any squadron in 1943.
Yet, the La Bocca marshalling yards were not hit in the raid. Despite the low altitude at which the Pathfinders dropped their target markers, the railway yards were not hit by a single bomb. Most of them fell on the local suburbs of La Bocca, where thirty-nine French civilians died, and on the nearby village of Agay. Petrie-Andrews’ crew’s dip in the Mediterranean had been for nothing.
CHAPTER 18
Down on the Tundra
The very north of Scandinavia can be an inhospitable place, even when the midnight sun is shining round the clock, let alone as winter approaches. It is not a good place for an aircraft to force-land. It is barely populated and with good reason. Even finding a place to successfully force-land is not easy in a land of trees, lakes and mountains. There are few grassy fields and even fewer airfields, so it would be a lucky Lancaster crew who found a place to land in Lapland with their wheels down.
The Dambuster Squadron’s second most famous target was the German battleship, Tirpitz, the most powerful battleship on the face of the Earth. Unlike the dams, however, they needed four attacks to sink her. No. 617 Squadron’s first crack at the Tirpitz was on 15 September 1944, and required them to operate from a Russian airfield in order to reach the battleship’s anchorage at Kaa Fjord near the North Cape. The weapon used in the attack was the 12,000 lb Tallboy bomb, the largest bomb dropped from an aircraft up to that time. The attack was a failure because the Germans laid on a smokescreen in time to obscure the ship from all but the first Lancaster. One Lancaster was lost during the operation, and the Squadron returned to their base at Woodhall Spa in Lincolnshire.
The Germans subsequently moved the Tirpitz round the North Cape to a new anchorage at Tromsø Fjord on the west coast of Norway, which placed it just within reach of Lancasters operating from the very north of Scotland. The Lancasters still needed to be heavily modified for the operation. They had been re-equipped with more powerful Merlin 24 engines, replacing the Merlin 22s, and were greatly lightened by the removal of the pilot’s armour plating, and the entire mid-upper gun turret. Large overload fuel tanks were then installed in the rear fuselage to give a total tankage of 2406 gallons for the 2250-mile round trip.
On 28 October 1944 the second Tallboy attack against Tirpitz got underway as thirty-six Lancasters eighteen each from No. 617 and No. 9 Squadrons took off from their bases at Woodhall Spa and Bardney. They flew north to RAF Lossiemouth and its satellite RAF Milltown, 4.5 miles north-east of Elgin, from where the attack would begin. The bombers brought their Tallboy bombs with them, and were ready to go as soon as they were refuelled, and provided weather conditions were suitable. A single aircraft from No. 463 Squadron was also to fly on the operation, carrying a film crew.
A Mosquito reconnaissance aircraft flew over the Fjord at around midnight and reported that the wind had changed round to the east and had blown away the low clouds over the target. By 01.00 hrs of the 29 October the Lancasters were taxiing out for take-off. Flying Officer Daniel William Carey DFC, an Australian, piloting Lancaster NF920, coded KC-E, took off at 01.14 hrs. E for Easy had been given the name Easy Elsie by the crew, with a suitably unclothed figure painted on the nose.
Carey was usually known as Bill, and was quite short for a bomber pilot. He had enlisted in the RAAF when he was 23 and done his elementary flying training in Australia. Arriving in Great Britain in August 1942, he had been through No. 15 Advanced Flying Unit and then No. 29 OTU. After crewing up and being converted to Lancasters, he had joined No. 106 Squadron at Metheringham in February 1944. After eleven operations with No. 106 Squadron his application to join No. 617 squadron was approved and he flew his first operation with them on the night of 18 – 19 April. The attack on the Tirpitz was his thirty-seventh operation.
There was also a Canadian in the crew, Pilot Officer Doug McLennan, the bomb-aimer. He had joined the RCAF in September 1941 and had trained initially as a pilot, but was eventually transferred to training as a bomb-aimer. After arriving in Great Britain in January 1943, he went to No. 5 Air Observers School, and then to No. 29 OTU, where he crewed up with Bill Carey. As part of Carey’s crew he went with him to No. 617 Squadron. On the first attack on the Tirpitz, though positioned with the rest of the Squadron in Russia, Easy Elsie had been unable to take part in the attack, but Carey, McLennan and the rest of the crew flew the raid as passengers with other crews.
The rest of Easy Elsie’s crew was British. There were two other officers, Pilot Officer Alex McKie, the navigator, and Flying Officer GA Witherick DFM, the rear gunner. McKie had joined the RAF just before the War as an engineering apprentice at Halton, but in 1942 he had been accepted for pilot training. He did his elementary training at Syerston and then went to the United States for his advanced training. Unfortunately, he was thrown out of pilot training after an episode of unauthorised low flying, and was remustered for navigator training. Arriving back in his homeland, he went to No. 16 OTU and was crewed with an Australian pilot before going to No. 106 Squadron, where they completed a tour of thirty operations. The crew transferred to No. 617 Squadron in May 1944. When his pilot left, having completed a second tour, McKie flew with a number of other pilots, including Carey aboard Easy Elsie.
Gerry Witherick was a veteran of ninety-five operations. He had joined the RAF in 1936 and when War broke out was an LAC driver with No. 47 Squadron in the Sudan. A shortage of air gunners for their Wellesleys caused him to be given brief training, and then he began to fly on operations against the Italians in Eritrea. After two years in the Sudan he was posted to No. 70 Squadron flying Wellingtons in Egypt, and had to learn the intricacies of their Frazer-Nash 4-gun tail turrets.
After a total of thirty-seven operations in Africa, behind the hand-held Vickers guns of the Wellesleys or the power-operated Brownings of the Wellingtons, he was transferred back to Great Britain, where he eventually found himself operating the Boulton Paul 4-gun turret in the tail of a No. 405 Sq
uadron Halifax from RAF Pocklington. He flew twenty more operations, plus eleven patrols when attached to Coastal Command for a while, and was then assigned to a training establishment, which did not entirely suit him. He sent off his application to be posted to No. 617 Squadron, and was very pleased when it was accepted.
The other two crew members of Easy Elsie were Flight Sergeants, Les Franks, the flight engineer, and AE, ‘Curly’Young, the wireless operator.
As the heavily laden bombers lumbered one by one into the air, the visibility over the Moray Firth was very poor. The plan was to cross Norway and then fly on into Swedish airspace. They intended to attack from the east, using the Swedish mountains as a radar shield, in an attempt to surprise the battleship’s defences, though it was believed this did not this time include a smokescreen. Once Scotland and the Orkneys had been cleared they were to fly at 600 feet to stay below the German radar, and as they approached the centre of the Norwegian coast were to climb to a safety height of over 6000 feet to clear the mountains as they crossed into Swedish airspace.
Carey’s crew followed this plan exactly, and as they swung north they flew over the Swedish villages of Suorva and Abisko, ready to rendezvous after dawn with the rest of the force over Lake Stora Lulevatten. The two squadrons would then turn north-west to attack in a loose formation and prepare to attack the battleship at the required height of 16,000 feet behind Wing Commander Tait’s lead aircraft.
Easy Elsie arrived at the rendezvous on time, and the crew found themselves amongst a gaggle of circling Lancasters. Only Wing Commander Tait’s aircraft did not appear, so when the time to turn for the target approached, the Number Two, Squadron Leader Gerry Fawke, fired a series of green Very cartridges and led the formation to the north-west. As the formation was sorting itself out on track, Tait’s Lancaster came soaring over them to take up its allotted position at the head of the formation.
As Tromsø Fjord came into sight they could see Tirpitz quite clearly in the crystal clear air, but the wind must have changed because the clouds were swinging back over the target area.
As Carey approached the battleship, its huge battery of anti-aircraft guns, including its 15-inch main armament, as well as the shore batteries, opened fire. All was going well but then Doug McLennan announced that Tirpitz was obscured by cloud, and Carey took the Lancaster round again for a second bomb-run. As he did so there was a huge shell burst only just below them, but no damage seemed to result. On the second run, they had no better luck than the first, as cloud still obscured the target and so Carey took the aircraft round on a third bombing run. All the time the anti-aircraft fire was bursting in the sky around them, and suddenly a shell exploded to the right, shaking the whole aircraft. Les Franks, looking out, could see they had been hit in the starboard wing, puncturing a fuel tank, and a stream of fuel was flowing from the wing.
As Carey manoeuvred the aircraft for a third run, he was aware that there were several other Lancasters milling around in the sky as well, all trying to find the moment when the battleship below was clear of cloud as they made their bombing run. Their Stabilized Automatic Bomb-Sight (SABS) required a precise speed and altitude, as well as inputs for the wind and the outside air temperature, all of which needed a long run up to the target. However, if SABS was set up right, and the flying was precise enough, the Tallboy could be placed within 20 yards of the aiming point; not quite a pickle barrel, but good enough for the earthquake effect of the 12,000 lb bomb to have its effect.
For a third time Carey was forced to turn away, and then for a fourth and fifth time he took Easy Elsie round and brought her back in on a bombing run. Each time, the target was obscured by cloud. On the sixth run their luck changed, as Tirpitz was visible for the whole of the run. A wave of relief filled the aircraft as Doug McLennan called ‘Bomb gone!’ However, their joy did not last for long.
As Bill Carey turned the aircraft to the west, Easy Elsie shuddered as she was hit again, and then shuddered once more as another shell struck. Les Franks immediately reported that the port inner engine had stopped, and that there was heavy fuel loss from the port wing, as Bill Carey feathered the propeller. From the rear turret Gerry Witherick reported that their Tallboy had scored a hit or a near miss on the battleship. Carey found he could not shut the bomb doors, the loss of the port inner had caused loss of hydraulic power to them, and that would also mean the undercarriage could not be hydraulically extended, though the mainwheels could still be blown down with the emergency pneumatic system.
Their briefing had called for an immediate dive to 1000 feet after bombing, to clear the area quickly, and Carey had the nose of the aircraft down flying to the west. He saw a small town on an island and decided to fly across it to give them a good navigational fix for the return across the North Sea. As they overflew it the island exploded with anti-aircraft fire. The aircraft was hit again, and a large hole was blasted in the fuselage next to the wireless operator’s position, putting the radio out of action. Luckily for Curly Young he had just left his position to use the Elsan.
As they took stock of their situation, the starboard outer engine began to run rough. Les Franks worked out that they had lost about 800 gallons of fuel and there was no longer enough left for them to make the long return flight across the North Sea. They had two choices, to turn back and make for Sweden, or to try and ditch near one of the Royal Navy destroyers that had been positioned on track for just such an emergency. Carey tried to contact the destroyers on the VHF set, but there was no response. He was concerned that with their fuel loss they would not have a great margin for finding one of the destroyers, and he was uncertain of the ditching characteristics of a Lancaster with the bomb doors down. He did not want to have to spend much time in the waters of the North Sea in late October, even if they could survive the ditching, and get in the dinghy. He informed the crew that he had decided to try and make a forced landing in Sweden. The crew were all in agreement and the only problem seemed to be that they would need to climb to 6000 feet to cross the mountain range again.
They tried and failed to contact other aircraft on the VHF set and then Alex McKie began firing red Very cartridges to try and attract the attention of any other Lancasters that were still around. This brought an immediate agitated response from Witherick in the rear turret, who could see the flares exploding very near to the trail of fuel still coming from the wing. Mckie immediately desisted and began planning their route to Sweden. However, the flares had been seen by Flight Lieutenant Hamilton who was just leaving Tromsø and he called on his VHF to find out what the problem was. Carey was able to brief Hamilton on their situation and that they were resigned to internment in Sweden.
Les Franks was busy transferring all the fuel he could to undamaged tanks, and Carey ordered Witherick to stay in the rear turret to look out for fighters. Everyone else was ordered to chuck out everything they did not need. They did all they could to lighten the aircraft. The guns and ammunition from the front turret were unceremoniously thrown overboard, together with the useless wireless set, their parachutes, the F9 camera, after the film had been exposed, and even the Gee set after a few taps with an axe.
Carey put the aircraft into a climb and headed up the Malangay Inlet. They were very grateful when the altimeter needle slid slowly past 6000 feet. Soon afterwards, they were flying over Lake Kilpisjarvi where the borders of Norway, Sweden and Finland meet. They then turned south-west in the direction of Porjus, one of the scarce towns in Lapland, where they hoped to make their forced landing. Les Franks worked out that it would take about 36 minutes to get there, and that they had 50 minutes’ of fuel, if the gauges were reading correctly. They would not have much of a margin for error, or hesitation.
Once McKie was certain they were well inside Swedish airspace they began shredding their maps and code books. McKie kept the maps of the local area, and was checking their route against the ground below. Once they were over Lake Stora Lulevatten once more they decided to ditch the guns and ammunition from the
rear turret. As they flew down the long thin lake the guns, gun-sight and ammo splashed into its placid waters.
The area was heavily forested and Carey commenced a wide sweep to look for a possible landing place, while beginning to lose height. They spotted a long grassy area running down to the lake, and decided it would be foolish to ignore what looked like a reasonable bet, and go searching for something better. They made a low pass over the area, and Carey decided that it looked so good he would try a wheels-down landing. He asked Les Franks to stay beside him to put the wheels down with the emergency pneumatic bottles, while the others took up their crash positions facing aft behind the main spar.
Carey made a wide flat circuit of the clearing and brought the crippled Lancaster in towards it. When they were nicely lined up he called Franks to lower the undercarriage and they were both relieved to see the green lights showing the wheels were down and locked. The flight engineer did not have the time to make his crash position behind the main spar so he quickly strapped himself into the second pilot’s seat. As Carey levelled off and cut the throttles, Franks pushed the buttons to set off the fire extinguishers in all the engines.
The aircraft touched down, and then almost seemed to stop dead. The mainwheels dug into the marshy ground and stood the aircraft on its nose turret. With mud swamping in through the broken nose Les Franks shot out of his seat and through the windscreen and made a soft landing outside in the marsh. Bill Carey was thrust forward against his straps, and despite having pulled them as tight as he could, his knee hit the compass, which dislocated the knee cap. Luckily, the aircraft did not somersault and crashed back onto its tail.
