Bomber Command

by Martin Bowman

  There was no argument and C-Charlie swung around on to a reciprocal course pointing homewards and we lightened the load by releasing our 6,000lb bomb load. Once the calculations had been made, several hundred gallons of petrol were also jettisoned over the North Sea. C-Charlie gave an almost audible sigh of relief and bravely responded to full trim and full rudder to continue on a course to East Anglia.

  Unlike the two previous raids on Hannover there was no 20-mile timed run from the Steinhuder Lake to confuse crews and in clear conditions the initial H2S-guided blind markers placed their Yellow TIs very accurately around the aiming point in the centre of Hannover, which was brilliantly illuminated. The Main Force, following their usual procedure, bombed the first red TIs that they saw, which in this case were nearest to the AP. About 70 per cent bombed before these TIs were extinguished, with the result that an exceptionally concentrated attack developed with a creep-back of only two miles, all within the built-up area. It was estimated that 54 per cent of the built-up area was destroyed by fire. Unlike the night previously the JLO correctly identified the likely target and many night fighters arrived in the Hannover area before the raid was over. Nachtjagd destroyed all 27 bombers lost. Flight Sergeant ‘Blue’ Ellery, an Australian pilot of a crew that arrived on 460 Squadron RAAF at Binbrook earlier in the day was told that he would be flying that night as second dickey with Wing Commander R A Norman DFC RAAF, the Commanding Officer on K-King. This Lancaster failed to return. Norman survived and was taken prisoner. So too ‘Blue’ Ellery, who had yet to unpack his kit.17

  Nachtjagd claimed ten more aircraft on Bremen although just two bombers, both Stirlings, were shot down (and a third would not make it home). Keith Deyell on 620 Squadron recalls:

  We were lucky it was not four. About 20 minutes from the target we were attacked by a fighter. I was sitting by the open rear hatch chucking out leaflets when our rear gunner opened up at the same time as the attacker, which was on the fine port quarter, slightly lower than us. We received damage from end to end and the rear turret was badly damaged as we went into evasive action and I stood up and kicked out the leaflets by the bundle. The engagement was short but in that time through the open hatch I saw two tails of fire from an aircraft below; those were the details that went into our combat report. Perhaps intelligence already knew about German jets but did not want aircrew to get the wind up so kept it under wraps. Although we received a great deal of damage there were no casualties and everything still worked so we pressed on to the target, bombed and returned. The rear gunner had lost most of the Perspex from his turret and the bulkhead doors were splintered. Even his chute in its stowage was riddled and his flying suit had nicks all over it, some of the instruments in the cockpit had lost their glass and in between where I had been, the disused lower turret hydraulic piping had been fractured showering me with fragments and oil. On inspecting the aircraft later we found 96 groups of damage yet nothing had been serious but I did find one neat group of five holes in the back end of the bomb bay step where I had been sitting and that caused me to break out in a cold sweat! They were right between my legs as I had jumped up to kick out the bundles!18

  Y-Yorker, one of seventeen Halifaxes on 35 Squadron that marked Bremen, crashed at Bradfield in Norfolk. Flying Officer Melville ‘Max’ Muller had taken off from Graveley in Huntingdonshire at 22.46 hours. Derrick Coleman, the 19-year-old air bomber and radar operator recalls:

  About 50 miles from the target I had left the H2S and moved into the nose in preparation for a visual bombing run using the Mk.XIV bombsight. There was no moon, no cloud and visibility was good in a bright starlight sky. Ross Whitfield had gone to an Australian Squadron and his place as rear-gunner had been taken by a Canadian, Sergeant ‘Benny’ Bent. ‘Benny’ saw a Ju 88 at 200 yards on the fine port quarter slightly up and closing in fast; he told his captain to ‘corkscrew port; port.’ The enemy aircraft opened fire at 200 yards with cannon firing a very dull trace, hitting our Halifax and setting the port outer engine on fire. ‘Benny’ returned the fire with two short bursts, aiming point blank and hitting the fighter, causing it to pull up sharply. We were now in a spin and the Ju 88 appeared to Sergeant Bent to be hanging on its props on the starboard beam. He gave it another very short burst; observing strikes and saw it fall away, apparently out of control. By now we were falling fast in a spin with flames pouring from the port outer engine. ‘Max’ Muller regained control after losing 8,000 feet in height but as the port outer engine was u/s and the port inner engine appeared to have been damaged, the aileron and elevator controls also damaged, besides the turret being u/s and other damage to the aircraft, the bombs were jettisoned and course set for base. I was terrified during the spin as I was pinned to the floor of the bomb-aimer’s position, could not move and thought this was the end. Max Muller did a magnificent job in getting the aircraft back to England, gradually losing height all the way and using full right rudder to keep the aircraft straight. My brief attempt to help by tying my intercom lead round the rudder bar and pulling was very ineffective.

  We crossed the English coast in daylight attempting to reach RAF Coltishall but crashed a few miles short; just not enough power to hedge-hop in. The aircraft passed between two trees, which hit the wings. It was a complete write-off, although the nose and part of the fuselage remained reasonably intact. At least one of the engines had been torn away and was on fire. All the crew escaped injury except for Tommy Ellwood the flight engineer, who had taken up his crash position behind the main spar and sustained a bad cut over one eye which required stitching. Blazing petrol set fire to the back of ‘Benny’s flying clothing but ‘Hoop’ Arnott the mid-upper gunner rolled him over and put the flames out. There was no doubt in the minds of all crew that we owed our lives to the amazing ability and strength of the pilot, Max Muller.

  Eighty-one year old William and 75-year-old Matilda Gibbons living at Bridge Farm nearby thought at first that their unexpected visitors were Germans but when they realized that they were RAF they were invited inside and given cups of tea until transport arrived. Jack Gibbons cycled to the next village of Antingham and with difficulty managed to arouse the postmistress in order to phone the police. The crew were transported to the hospital at RAF Coltishall and after the necessary care were taken by road back to Graveley. William never really recovered from the trauma of that night. He died 55 days after the crash and Matilda passed away just seven days later. They were buried together in Trunch cemetery nearby.19

  Phil Dyson piloting C-Charlie had decided to land at Woodbridge where so many American aircraft in distress had successfully landed:

  But hopes were dashed when ‘Bud’ Rattigan our Canadian wireless op calmly informed us that the whole of East Anglia was enveloped in a thick ground mist. We were left with the alternative of ditching the aircraft. Coming up to the East Anglian coast we were at 3,000 feet and I made a slow turn to run parallel with the shore. It was very dark but the land was more discernible than I thought it would be and the coast ahead appeared to be long and straight. Ditching was something one could not practise, but learning the ditching procedure was a lesson which each individual crew member took very seriously. The pilot had to be securely strapped into his seat – and was not and could do little for myself for I needed both hands to control the aircraft.

  ‘Norman’, I called to the bomb aimer, who occupied the adjacent seat, ‘Fasten my seat belt’. There were four stages which met on a central clip-in device. It was dark and Norman groped around. Meanwhile, throttle back and reduce speed one-third flap and to the wireless op, ‘Bud’, who had already sent out distress signals, ‘Let the trailing aerial out.’ I needed his instant warning when the aerial touched the water at 20 feet as the signal to cut the engines, pull back on the control column and stall C-Charlie in tail-first. We were down to 500 feet and Norman was still fumbling around.

  ‘Norman, strap in quickly and hold the strap across my chest.’

  It seemed no more than seconds after I had thro
ttled right back that C-Charlie hit the water with an immense thud and the impact threw me forward with an almighty bang as my head struck the window in front and we went down. Momentarily concussed, a flood of cold sea water crashed through the hatch above and instantly revived me and I jumped onto the seat and squeezed my bulky figure through that small aperture. Miraculously, C-Charlie was afloat and I could see my friends climbing out of the mid upper gun escape hatch one by one, all except one. We found Norman Luff, the bomb aimer, entangled with the control column and we freed him and dragged him out of the pilot’s escape hatch. Down by the port wing the dinghy was there and waiting, fully inflated and we gingerly clambered down, fearful lest we put our feet through the base. Pete cut the lanyard and Jack and ‘Bud’ inexpertly paddled us towards the shore where we could see a light and hear a voice shouting repeatedly, ‘Steer this way, straight towards the light’. In a few minutes we entered the surf and stepped ashore where the voice continued. ‘Now one behind the other and follow me’ and we crunched our way up a steep shingled beach. At the top we could hear female voices and they led us towards a large house where we took off our soaking uniforms and flying kit and wrapped ourselves in a variety of garments. They tendered first aid to Norman who had a deep gash in his leg. They fed us and eventually provided us with beds for the few hours left before dawn. These angels were members of the Women’s Royal Naval Auxiliary and ‘manned’ a listening post where they had heard our Mayday call, never dreaming we would drop in to visit them at Hemsby, which lies 10 miles north of Great Yarmouth, Norfolk. In the early hours of the morning I slipped out of the house and saw the huge tail of the Stirling standing like a sentinel 300 yards off shore. Later we all lined up with several of our hostesses to have our photographs taken with our staunch friend C-Charlie in the background. We had been very lucky in a number of ways, not least in the fact that we had landed just off a mined beach.

  Mr. Winston Churchill in a message of congratulation on 11 October to Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Harris said:

  Your command, with day-bomber formations of the Eighth Air Force fighting alongside it, is playing a foremost part in the converging attack on Germany now being conducted by the forces of the United Nations on a prodigious scale. Your officers and men will, I know, continue their efforts in spite of the intense resistance offered, until they are rewarded by the final downfall of the enemy. These growing successes have only been achieved by the devotion, endurance and courage for which Bomber Command is renowned. Airmen and airwomen of Britain, the Dominions and our allies have worked wholeheartedly together to perfect the mighty offensive weapon which you wield in a battle watched by the world.

  Three more large-scale Tame Boar operations were mounted during October. On the 18/19th when Bomber Command attacked Hannover with 360 Lancasters, the target area was covered by cloud and the Path Finders were not successful in marking the city. The raid was scattered with most bombs falling in open country north and north-west of Hannover. The JLO directed 190 twin-engined fighters into the stream 51 minutes before the Path Finders arrived over the city and 14 victories were claimed for two own losses. The actual losses were 18 Lancasters, five per cent of those that had set out. Three of the missing aircraft were on 103 Squadron at Elsham Wolds, two of which crashed east of Erichshagen. There were no survivors from all three Lancasters. A 115 Squadron Lancaster crashed on return to Little Snoring in North Norfolk, injuring two of the crew. Another Lancaster ditched east of Aldburgh. Eleven more Lancasters landed with damage inflicted in the fighter attacks.

  Bomber Command was stood down the following night. Then, on the 20/21st, 358 Lancasters of 1, 5, 6 and 8 Groups were dispatched on the long trip to Leipzig, 90 miles southwest of Berlin, for the first serious raid on the city. The weather was described as ‘appalling’; just 271 aircraft bombed the correct area and the rest of the bombing was very scattered. About 220 night fighters were despatched, returning with claims for 11 Lancasters destroyed for nine own losses. Sixteen Lancasters failed to return. One was R-Robert, a Mk.III, the first 625 Squadron crew reported missing since its formation at Kelstern, high on the Lincolnshire Wolds northwest of Louth on 1 October. All seven men on Pilot Officer W P Cameron’s crew died on the aircraft which crashed off Oosterend, Holland. Another R-Robert, on 405 ‘Vancouver’ Squadron RCAF at Gransden Lodge, was flown by Pilot Officer Kemble Wood RAAF. His crew included three Canadians, which he thought might have been the reason that they had been posted to 405, the first-formed of the RCAF Squadrons in Bomber Command and the only one in the Path Finders. The crew had been together for about six months and Warrant Officer O O Johnson RCAF said that they were all the very best of friends and that the life of a crew like theirs made the strongest friends that anyone could ever have. An inveterate letter writer, Kemble Wood had penned his 99th letter to his wife Ethel on 16 October. She would not receive a hundred. Her husband and all his crew except Johnson were killed when R-Robert crashed near Werlte at Harrenstätte. On 24 October funerals for those who died were held there. The next telegram that Ethel received was the one telling her that her husband had been killed in action.20

  On 22/23 October 28 Lancasters and eight Mosquitoes of 8 Group set out to bomb Frankfurt as a diversion for over 560 Lancasters and Halifaxes heading for Kassel for the second raid on this city that month. Their targets were the Henschel locomotive-engine plant, the largest of its kind in Europe, and the Fieseler aircraft plant. One hundred and twenty-five bombers were forced to return early because of severe icing en route. As on the previous raid 19 days earlier, the blind markers overshot the aiming point but, the visual markers following on accurately marked the centre in the light of their flares and Kassel was subjected to an exceptionally accurate and concentrated raid. They created 3,600 fires that were still burning seven days after the raid, the firestorm destroying 63 per cent of all Kassel’s living accommodation. A Mosquito reconnaissance pilot reported that:

  Kassel was a single sheet of flame from which violent explosions were continuously erupting. You could see the smoke up to an altitude of 16,000 feet. We approached the city repeatedly from different directions but after the raid we found no opportunity to take aerial photographs due to the dense clouds of smoke. The rising wind caused the sea of flame to spread more and more. Now the extent of the destruction in Kassel must virtually match that in Hamburg.

  Over 4,300 apartment blocks were reduced to ruins and more than 150 industrial premises and dozens of public buildings were destroyed or seriously damaged. In the oldest part of town in the main business shopping centre between the river and Konigsplatz no building was left intact. The damage extended to the industrial districts on both sides of the River Fulda as well as to suburbs. The Western suburbs and outlying townships were badly hit and the north-eastern suburb of Wolfshanger was devastated. Between 100,000 and 120,000 people had to leave their homes and over 5,500 people died. The Fieseler factory was so badly damaged that the V-1 assault on Britain was delayed. Enemy action was hampered by strong Window jamming of the Fighter R/T Frequency and the diversion to Frankfurt where all the bombers returned safely. It was on this night that broadcasts code-named Corona that were intended to interrupt and confuse the JLOs’ R/T transmissions in the 2.5 to 6 MHz band to their night fighters, began. The enemy transmissions were monitored at an RAF ground radio station at West Kingsdown (later Canterbury) in Kent using captured FuG 10 receivers. When the communication channel to be disrupted had been identified, a SO (special operator) would begin to feed into it misleading or contradictory information and this would be broadcast from four GPO Transmitters (three at Rugby and one at Leafield) by an executive order telephoned from the monitoring station. At first SOs would not attempt to divert night fighter pilots to the wrong target but would transmit misleading instructions such as false fog warnings or landing instructions.21 The JLO became so agitated that he began swearing but the British Corona operator reacted quickly and sharply, saying ‘The Englishman is now swearing’ only for the Germ
an controller to shout: ‘It is not the Englishman who is swearing; it is me!’ Even so, despite the jamming and spoofing over 190 Tame Boars claimed 40 kills, mainly in Wild Boar fashion in the target area and to the north of Kassel. The attackers lost only six fighters; one may have been that which collided with a Halifax flown by Lieutenant Leif Hulthin on 76 Squadron, who was on his 26th trip. The Norwegian, who had crashed at the start of the Aachen operation in July, was well-known for his calm readiness to circle a target until he was certain of his aiming point.22 He and his Halifax went down at Welda five kilometres southwest of Warburg; all his crew including Pilot Officer Alf Barden, just 18 years old, were killed.