After the first Trupp had been lined up in alphabetical order, the first POW to be documented at Luft 7 was flight engineer Sergeant John R. Abbott. With him were five of his crew: Warrant Officer Den A. Blackford (pilot); Flight Sergeant P. ‘Pud’ Hudson (navigator); Flight Sergeant W.A. ‘Bill’ Brookes (bomb aimer); Sergeant Les J. Tuck (wireless operator); and Sergeant Jack Shenton (rear gunner). The seventh member of the crew, F/O Fred R. Singh RAAF (mid-upper gunner), was elsewhere.
Their journey into captivity had begun on 24 May with a squadron briefing for an attack on the railway yards at Aachen. For this raid, carried out by 264 Lancasters, 162 Halifaxes, and sixteen Mosquitos (eighteen Halifaxes and seven Lancasters were lost) they flew Halifax B.111, LV906, ZA-Q for Queenie, as their regular aircraft, ZA-Z for Zebra, had not yet been equipped with H2S, which all the other crews were using. Two of their regular crew – Sergeant A.G.T. ‘Jock’ Saunders (killed in action on 23 September 1944), and Sergeant Johnny Pyle (R/G) – had reported sick and were respectively replaced by Les Tuck (on his first op), and Fred Singh who, having only ever flown as a mid-upper gunner, went into that position while the regular mid-upper, Jack Shenton, took the rear turret.
For Den Blackford and crew this was their twentieth operational sortie, including four consecutive trips to Berlin. At 2258 hours Warrant Officer Blackford eased Q-Queenie off Melbourne’s runway, the crew keeping a sharp look-out to avoid collision as the sky filled with circling aircraft.
Setting course, they were soon passing high over Belgium, and could see the heavy flak in response to the Pathfinders’ red and green target indicator (TI) flares. Den Blackford:
‘We had bombed the target and were on our way back when, at approximately 0115 hours, we were hit by a night-fighter. We believe it was a Ju88. He fired two bursts – the first one set the fuel tanks in both wings on fire, and both the port engines were knocked out. Fires also broke out in the port wing bomb-bay. Luckily, the bomb-bay doors, which had not locked after I closed them, fell open, and this caused the plane to go into a very steep climb. I say luckily because the second burst from the night-fighter went by underneath the aircraft.’
With the fires out of control, Den gave the order to abandon aircraft. The navigator opened the escape hatch in the floor and baled out, followed by the bomb aimer. The wireless operator, in handing the pilot his parachute, caught his own parachute release handle on a projecting control knob, spilling the canopy in the aircraft. The silken folds were packed into his arms and he baled out. The only casualty during the attack was the Australian mid-upper gunner, Fred Singh, who was badly wounded in the leg by a cannon shell but who nevertheless managed to bale out. Soon captured, he was taken to hospital for treatment.7
Jack Shenton, after a short struggle with the rear turret doors, baled out through the fuselage door on the port side. He knew nothing of his descent, having been knocked unconscious by one of his parachute harness buckles as it broke away from the webbing. He woke up on the ground, with his face badly swollen, and minus a flying boot.
Den Blackford now motioned to John Abbott to bale out, but the flight engineer saw the pilot struggling to free himself from his seat-harness and turned back to help him before both baled out. Den was also knocked unconscious for a short while on landing then, hiding his parachute in some bushes, walked all night in a south-westerly direction. Captured near Voeren, Belgium, he was taken after interrogation by the local Bürgermeister (Mayor) to a nearby Lufwaffe airfield and introduced to the pilot who claimed to have shot him down.8 After being fed he was put in the airfield jail, but was awakened during the night when Bill Brookes was thrown into his cell.
Meanwhile, John Abbott was having a few problems of his own:
‘I never even remember pulling the rip cord, first a sensation of falling through a black void, then a sudden jerk and I was dangling on the end of my parachute harness. I became aware that my feet were cold and, with some difficulty, looked down and saw that my flying boots had gone. They must have been wrenched off when my parachute opened. Looking down again, I could see long stretches of water, my first thought was canals. I reached for the Mae West inflator when CRASH! I landed flat on my back in a ploughed field.
‘My thoughts returned to a few weeks earlier when F/Lt Eric Williams – of “The Wooden Horse” fame – visited the squadron on a lecture tour after he had escaped (along with F/Lt Oliver Philpot and Lieutenant Michael Codner) from Stalag Luft 3, Sagan. He warned us about wearing loose-fitting flying boots, and suggested tying a piece of string under the soles and fastening round the ankles. Needless to say, I did not take his advice. However, shortly after this, the new escape boots with lace-up shoes were being issued, and I endeavoured to obtain a pair from the stores. I was told yes they had them in stock, but had not yet received instructions to issue them. As I sat in a field at 2 am – contemplating my bare feet – all I could think of was those nice new escape boots occupying their shelves in the stores!
‘Feeling tired, I rolled up in my parachute and soon fell asleep. It was daylight when I awoke; I made a pair of moccasins out of my Mae West, and remained hidden all day in a field of mustard crop. As it grew dusk I prepared to move.’
John Abbott was captured that night and taken to a police station. The following morning, when he was ordered out of his cell, he was surprised to see ‘Pud’ Hudson walk out of the next cell. Neither spoke nor showed any recognition as they were taken to a nearby railway station. Shortly afterwards a passenger train with a few box-cars at the back pulled in. As their guard slid open the door and ordered them inside, they saw Den Blackford and Bill Brookes!
Ordered off the train at München-Gladbach, they were handed over to a civilian police escort. As they waited at a tramcar-stop, a queue gradually formed up behind them. It was not until a tram stopped and the airmen got on that some of the crowd recognised their RAF uniforms. The once quiet crowd now became an angry mob, and surged forward. The police escort drew their pistols and stood between the POWs and the hostile civilians. One of the policemen quickly pressed the bell and the tram moved off, taking the airmen out of their grasp.
Disembarking on the outskirts of the city, near the entrance to an airfield, the police escort handed their prisoners over to the Luftwaffe. In the airfield’s cells they found Jack Shenton and two other, wounded RAF aircrew, Sergeants Arthur R. ‘Chegga’ Brice and Cyril Weeks, from the same crew.
Within twenty-four hours, on 30 May, Den Blackford, his crew, Chegga Brice and Cyril Weeks, had arrived at the interrogation centre for airmen (Auswertungsstelle West) at Oberursel, seven kilometres (four miles) north west of Frankfurt-am-Main. Following the usual solitary confinement and interrogation, and having had their identity confirmed as bona fide POWs, they were transferred to the Dulag Luft transit camp (Durchgangslager der Luftwaffe) at Wetzlar, forty-five kilometres (twenty-eight miles) north of Frankfurt-am-Main. Here, a permanent staff of Allied air force POWs looked after new arrivals, and issued the airmen who were on their way to a POW camp with food and clothing supplied by the International Red Cross.9
*
Arthur ‘Chegga’ Brice and Cyril Weeks had been lost on the same Aachen raid as Den Blackford and crew. They were on Halifax B.III, LW720, NP-W, 158 Squadron, which had taken off from Lissett, Yorkshire, on 24 May with a crew of: F/S John M. Roberts (pilot); F/O W. C. ‘Bill’ Graham RCAF (navigator); Sergeant Jim H. Wilson (bomb aimer); Sergeant W.M. Rivers (flight engineer); Sergeant Cyril Weeks (wireless operator); Sergeant Arthur R. ‘Chegga’ Brice (mid-upper gunner); and Sergeant Dennis Davies (rear gunner).
They had just bombed the target when their Halifax was attacked by a night-fighter.10 Cannon shells blew the top off the mid-upper turret, leaving Chegga Brice sitting in the open air. His silk scarf, knotted at the front, was in shreds after a bullet had passed through the knot and had taken a piece of skin the size of a penny from his Adam’s apple. Blood was still running down his neck when he joined John Abbott in his cell after capture.
The attack also left Cyril Weeks with five splinter wounds in his right leg and hip. He and Chegga Brice were captured by soldiers near Puffendorf. Cyril never forgot the help he was given by Den Blackford and ‘Pud’ Hudson, who carried him from the railway station to Dulag Luft. After his arrival at Luft 7 he spent much of the first few months in the camp’s first-aid hut, a proper medical centre having yet to be built.11
Jim ‘Jock’ Wilson also baled out and arrived at Luft 7 on 13 June. Bill Graham became a POW at Stalag 6G (Berg Neustadt). John Roberts, Bill Rivers, and Dennis Davies were killed, and now lie in the large British War Cemetery at Rheinberg, near Essen.
*
158 Squadron lost a second Halifax on the Aachen raid on 24/25 May, Halifax B.III LV918, NP-O, with its crew of: F/L Ralph Reavill (pilot); F/O Walter J. Rogers (navigator); F/O Joe E. Hounam DFM (bomb aimer); F/L Cedric C. Fox DFM (flight engineer); F/S Robert E. Hardwick (wireless operator); F/S Frank A. Spriggs (mid-upper gunner); and F/S Donald A. Stewart RCAF (rear gunner).
Frank Spriggs:
‘We left the briefing room feeling quite cheerful as it should not be a very hard target – just a few searchlights, a little light flak, and the usual night-fighters. That’s what the intelligence officer said at his briefing! Our attack was due at 0100 hours, and a second wave at 0200 hours.
‘We took off at 2255 hours, and crossed the enemy coast at about 19,000 feet. As our bombing height was to be 15,000 feet we slowly began to lose height. We were about half an hour flying time from the target when the navigator told the pilot that we would be over the target five minutes or more before our time to bomb, so we had better fly a short dog-leg. We did this, but were still a couple of minutes in front of the other kites.
‘The skipper said: “The markers are going down dead ahead.” The bomb aimer got into his position in the nose and set his bomb-sight. Just as we started the bombing run, I noticed what looked like sparks shooting out from the starboard inner engine. Suddenly there was a tremendous belch of flames from the same engine. Within seconds the whole engine was a mass of flames, and then the plane went into a dive with a long trail of flame and sparks behind her.
‘From my turret, I looked down on the burning engine. The flames were spreading out to the outboard engine and the fuselage. All the metal seemed to be buckling and white hot. Over the intercom, I heard the bomb aimer tell the pilot to jettison the bombs. Then the pilot said, very quietly and with no sign of panic, “The bomb-doors won’t open. I’m sorry chaps, but I can’t hold her. I think you’ll have to bale out.” Then the engineer’s voice “You’d better get them out quick, because she’s going to blow up any second.”
‘The skipper’s voice saying “Okay chaps, bale out” woke me up from the dream I thought I was in. God! This can’t be happening to me. I climbed out of my turret, pulled off my helmet and oxygen mask, reached down and found my parachute which I clipped on to my chest. I then crawled under the turret and back to the escape exit. As I opened the door, the force of the slip-stream blew it up. I looked down – everything was red with flames. I sat on the edge of the opening and put my legs down into space. They were immediately blown back. I grasped hold of the ripcord handle with my left hand and prepared to push myself out with my right, when suddenly something hit me on my head and face, and I remembered no more.
‘The bomb aimer told me, at a later date, that after we got the order to bale out, he clipped on his ’chute. Then suddenly the plane exploded and he was blown out of the nose. The rear gunner also said that on hearing the order, he rotated the turret, opened the door, grabbed his ’chute and put it on, and rolled out of his turret backwards. He was unable to get clear because one foot was caught in the door. Then the plane exploded and he was blown clear. I presume that I was also blown out by the explosion.
‘When I came to, I couldn’t remember anything. I found I was laying on a bunk with two German soldiers standing guard over me. Also there were six or seven boys of ages fourteen to sixteen, with white arm bands, peering at me as though I was some wild animal. They had removed my ’chute harness and Mae West, and all my personal belongings, including my watch.
‘Then I found my head and face were covered in blood, and I could hardly move my neck. I felt all over myself to see if I had broken any bones but, luckily for me, I was intact. Suddenly the silence of the night was shattered by the air-raid siren. Immediately the soldiers and the boys blew out the lamps and ran outside, locking the door as they went. I presume they must have gone to the shelters. I heard the sound of aircraft, then my brain seemed to wake up and I thought “God, this is the second attack!” The roar of the aircraft increased and then the bombs began to fall. Wave after wave came over and dropped their load. The bombs came shrieking down, and the explosions were ear-splitting. The small building that I was in began to shake. Then part of the roof was smashed in, the door was blown off its hinges, and glass from a little window over my head began to shower down on me. As I was tossed up and down on the bed, I thought this must be the end.
‘The attack lasted about ten minutes. It ended with the same abruptness as it started, and everything was quiet again. I got up from the bunk and tried to get out of the door, but it had been jammed by the bombs and I couldn’t open it. I then heard the soldiers coming back, so I went and lay on the bed again. They had quite a job breaking the door in. After a while five more soldiers arrived. They had a good look at me, and after searching me again, motioned me to get up and go with them. When I got outside the little shack, I could see by the light of the fires that it was a signal box about 300 yards from the marshalling yards. All around were bomb craters, burning railway wagons, and twisted rails. The whole yard was a mass of flames.
‘After marching along the railway lines away from the yards, we entered a house that I found was an army headquarters. I was taken into a room in which were two high-ranking officers and a young girl who, I later found out, was an interpreter. I was searched again, then one of the officers started to question me in broken English. I told him my name, rank and serial number. Then he asked me what I was flying in, how many were in my crew, and other questions pertaining to the raid. My reply was that I was instructed to give only my name, rank and serial number. At this point he took out his pistol and pointed it at my head. I got very scared and thought he was going to shoot me. The second officer spoke to him, and after a while he put the gun away – much to my relief. I was then made to pick up all my gear, taken out into the street, and then marched down the road with many guards armed with Tommy guns all around me.
‘It was about 5 am and just getting light. As we marched through the town I could see it had suffered heavy damage. We passed a large group of Hitler Youth in their brown shirts with swastika armbands. They sang as they marched, and each one carried a shovel. I found out afterwards that they were going to help clear up the bomb damage. It was now getting lighter, and a lot of people who were digging through the bomb damage began to crowd around me, yelling and shaking their fists. Then some started to throw rocks. My guards raised their guns and threatened to shoot. As we continued to march the crowd got larger, and I was relieved when we entered a large army barracks.’
Frank Spriggs and Donald Stewart were sent to Luft 7. Joe Hounam also became a POW, camp not known. (Joe remained in the RAF until 1959.) The rest of the crew were killed in the attack by a Bf110 night-fighter fitted with twin upward-firing cannons (Schräge Musik).12
*
On 19 May 1944 the London Gazette announced the award of the DFC to 1314755 Warrant Officer Kenneth Albert Lane, 83 Squadron:
‘This warrant officer was the pilot of an aircraft detailed to attack Munich one night in April 1944. When approaching the target the aircraft was illuminated by the searchlights and subjected to heavy fire from the ground defences. The starboard inner engine was hit by shrapnel and caught fire. Soon afterwards a second engine was hit and burst into flames. Undeterred, Warrant Officer Lane continued his bombing run and pressed home his attack. Afterwards, the flames in the burning engines were quelled and course was set for home with two engines out of action. A little later, as a result of a fault in the petrol system, a third engine began to fail. Warrant Officer Lane promptly ordered the crew to jettison all moveable equipment, including guns, in an effort to maintain height. Considerable height was lost, however, before one of the defective engines could be restarted, but then Warrant Officer Lane flew on at low altitude and finally reached base. He displayed great skill, courage and devotion to duty in the face of a dangerous and difficult situation.’
Less than a month after the Munich raid on 24/25 April, twenty-three-year-old Ken Lane, on his fourteenth operational sortie with 83 (PFF) Squadron, took off from Coningsby, Lincolnshire on the evening of 22 May 1944 in Lancaster B.III ND963 OL-H for Harry, with his crew of F/S A. ‘Taffy’ Jones (navigator); F/S Donald E. Cope (bomb aimer); F/S R.F. ‘Dick’ Raymond (flight engineer); WO1 J.S.A. Aspinall RCAF (wireless operator); F/S S.J. Hall DFM (mid-upper gunner); and F/S E.A. ‘Dave’ Davies (rear gunner). Their target was Brunswick.
En-route, Lancaster H-Harry was attacked by a night-fighter flown by Hauptmann Werner Husemann, Stab 1./NJG3, for his eighteenth victory. So severe was the damage to the Lancaster that Ken struggled to control the aircraft and, as smoke and flames filled the cockpit, he watched helplessly as the instrument panel melted. With him pinned to his seat, the aircraft plummeted earthwards. Suddenly, it exploded and, still trapped in his seat, Ken was blown out.13 Suffering minor burns, he was captured by armed Dutch police near Roswinkel.
Dick Raymond freed the jammed nose escape hatch, and baled out just before the port wing came off, but Don Cope, tangled up with the front guns, was blown clear still holding his observer-type parachute pack by its canvas handle. He achieved the almost impossible task of clipping it onto his harness as he fell in the darkness.14 Stan Aspinall, badly wounded in the leg, passed out, and only regained consciousness on the ground with his opened parachute by his side. Stan Hall, Taffy Jones and Dave Davies were killed, and are buried, side by side, in the cemetery at Nieuw Dordrecht, Holland.
Ken Lane had been put up for a commission before this fateful operation, but it was not promulgated in the London Gazette until 25 July, with a seniority date of 27 April 1944 and number 177324. He was promoted flying officer on 24 November 1944 but, so far as the Luftwaffe were concerned, he was still a warrant officer, and therefore went to Luft 7, as did Don Cope and Dick Raymond. Stan Aspinall, treated for his injuries at Stalag IXC, arrived shortly afterwards. He was kept in the medical compound and eventually repatriated to Canada.
*
Bob Lloyd (later Lloyd-Davies) was born in Colwyn Bay, North Wales. Having joined the Stoke-on-Trent police in January 1936, he transferred to the Chester police in 1941. Although in a reserved occupation he joined the RAFVR in March 1943, and was called up four months later. After radio school, and because he had a knowledge of German, he was posted to 214 Squadron, 100 (Bomber Support) Group. These specialist aircraft, employed on radio counter-measure duties such as the detection and jamming of enemy radio and radar equipment, usually flew in support of RAF Bomber Command’s main force.
On 24/25 May 1944, Flying Fortress SR384, 214 Squadron, was supporting the attack on the Ford motor factory at Antwerp. Bob flew as a spare wireless operator/air gunner in this aircraft, with P/O Allan J.N. Hockley RAAF (pilot); F/S Tommy D. Glenn (navigator); Sergeant W.W. ‘Bill’ Hallett (flight engineer); F/S Paul T. ‘Tom’ Lyall RAAF (wireless operator); Sergeant Ray Simpson (mid-upper gunner); F/S R.Y. ‘Bob’ Gundy RNZAF (port waist gunner); Sergeant J.E. ‘Jim’ McCutchan RCAF (starboard waist gunner); Sergeant E. N. ‘Nick’ Lovatt (rear gunner).
Bob Lloyd recalls:
‘It was early morning (25 May) and we were on our way out from Antwerp when we were hit by flak. The first shell passed through the fuselage, between Tom Lyall and me, bursting overhead. I was opening a flask of coffee at the time and that also burst. The second shell exploded below, and the third in the port-inner engine which caught fire. Our skipper, P/O Hockley, put the aircraft into a dive in an attempt to put out the fire, but without success and he ordered us to jump. I ejected the escape-door and we – Jim McCutchan, Tom Lyall, Tommy Glenn, Bob Gundy, and I – assembled to bale out. Bob made to jump and then went back to look at the fire; this happened three times. I had had enough by this time and made to jump, but was blown back against the fuselage and got stuck in the hatch, and I had to be pushed out.
‘I ditched in the deep flooded areas on the island of Tholen, and eventually made my way to an abandoned flooded farmhouse. I was making myself comfortable when I heard someone outside and, quietly looking through a bedroom window, I saw Tommy Glenn. You can imagine our delight, although we were worried about Bob Gundy, who would have been last out from our position in the waist.
‘Meanwhile, Tommy and I were watching movements on the dyke about 300-400 yards away – German and police patrols! Beyond the dyke we had seen barges. There is no doubt that Jerry knew we were not far away, and on an island without food we could not get very far. However, the next morning we decided to make a try. As it was becoming twilight we made a raft for our few possessions and set off for the dyke. But we were spotted by some Dutchmen in a boat, and taken to a small farmhouse by one of them.
‘We were made welcome and very well fed. Two of the family gave up their beds for us, and made us feel at home. I spoke good Dutch at that time, having worked in Holland in the early 30s, so we got on quite well together. The next morning the Germans were searching for us and picked us up. The farmer’s wife was very distressed; she had earlier asked me “When are you coming?” Little did I know when I replied “Wait a while, it won’t be long”. I had lost one of my flying boots when I landed in the water, but she gave me a pair of Wellington boots. The Germans promised to return them when I had been supplied with other footwear.
‘Our first place of detention was in a small wooden hut used as an office in a sailing-boat yard on Tholen. We were left for quite some time in this, quite unguarded. Tommy and I decided to stay put. Eventually we were taken to a Luftwaffe station at Bergen-op-Zoom, where I was given a pair of boots in exchange for the Wellingtons. From Bergen-op-Zoom we were taken by train to Venlo,15 where about 100 of us were “billeted” in an evacuated convent, before being sent on to Dulag Luft.
‘When we all eventually met up at Luft 7, we asked Bob Gundy why he did not jump in the first instance, and he replied: “I didn’t want to be the first out. I’d heard of aircraft getting back after some of the crew baled out!” This is understandable, as the intercom had been damaged and he, and Jim McCutchan, had not heard the skipper. I have no doubt at all that our pilot held the aircraft as steady as he could to enable us to get out. I heard afterwards that our mid-upper gunner had lost his parachute in the dive, and the skipper would try and ditch. That is the last we heard of them. They probably ditched in the North Sea.
Records suggest the aircraft came down in the Oosterschelde, the fifteenth victory of night-fighter pilot Oberleutnant Hermann Leube, 4./NJG3, who claimed his victim was a Halifax. The bodies of the pilot and mid-upper gunner were recovered, and were buried on the island of Zuid-Beveland.
Tommy Glenn wrote later in his diary (now held by his daughter-in-law Roz Glenn):
‘In memoriam P/O Hockley, Alan James Noel, our “skipper” and pilot, who gave his life, so that we may live, remaining at the controls of the aircraft, thus allowing all but one of us to parachute to safety. He was a native of Sydney, Australia, aged twenty-six, who was always tolerant, generous, sporting and certainly one of the best pilots in the RAF or RAAF.’
F/S John Ross ‘Mac’ McConnell, from Lanigan, Saskatchewan, Canada, was one of three brothers serving in the RCAF. Following training as an air gunner, he was posted to 196 Squadron at Witchford, Cambridgeshire, as a rear gunner on Stirlings. The squadron’s operations varied from bombing and mine-laying to dropping agents and supplies to the Resistance Movement, often in the areas of Le Mans and St Etienne, France. Mac was later transferred to 425 (Alouette) Squadron,16 RCAF, operating Halifaxes out of Tholthorpe, Yorkshire. He flew as a ‘spare’ gunner, operating only when one of the crews was short of a gunner: ‘Rather tough to fly this way, but I wanted to finish my tour.’
On 8/9 May 1944, 425 Squadron joined others from 6 and 8 Groups in a raid on the railway yards and locomotive sheds at Haine-St-Pierre, northern France. The crew were: Flight Officer17 L. White USAAF (pilot); F/S J.R. Lefebvre RCAF (navigator); Sergeant J.A.A. Aubrey RCAF (bomb aimer); Sergeant J.H. Chant (flight engineer); WO2 A.A. Cornier RCAF (wireless air gunner); Sergeant J.E.M. Beluse RCAF (mid-upper gunner); F/S J.R. McConnell RCAF (rear gunner); and Sergeant R.C. Brown RCAF (under gun). The aircraft took off at 0125 hours on 9 May with a bomb load of 8 x 1,000lb and 7 x 500lb MCs.
Mac McConnell:
‘This raid was to be my sixteenth trip, and I first met the crew at our briefing. The pilot was F/O White, and Brown was from Saskatchewan, Cornier from Alberta, and Aubrey, Beluse and Lefebvre from Quebec. I don’t recall their first names or their crew positions – they were new on the squadron… Our aircraft was a Halifax B.III, LK798, KW-A for Apple, and on this trip I was the rear gunner. Shortly after bombing the target we were attacked by a night-fighter.18 I was wounded in the right leg and suffered many lacerations to my face and hands. I managed to bale out, but broke my leg and damaged my shoulder on landing. I was captured by German soldiers south of Brussels and taken to Courtrai. From there I began the long journey to Dulag Luft and Luft 7. I don’t know what happened to the rest of the crew.’
Cornier evaded capture (he was flown back from Belgium to RAF Northolt on 23 September 1944), while Aubrey, Beluse and Chant went to Stalag Luft VI (Heydekrug) and then to Stalag 357. White and Lefebvre were killed. Roy Brown was betrayed and taken prisoner. Imprisoned with many other captured aircrew in St Gilles prison in Brussels, he escaped when the train taking them to Germany in September 1944 was forced to turn back by patriotic Belgians.19
*
On 9 May 1944 Typhoon-equipped 266 (Rhodesia) Squadron, at RAF Hurn, was detailed for an evening ‘Ramrod’ sortie. The SORB records that:
‘8 of our aircraft, plus 193, 197 and 257 Squadrons, bombed the marshalling yards at Rouen. The target was bombed from 11,000 to 6,000ft and the results were considered excellent on bridge and rail junctions. One small ship was hit. Sergeant McMurdon was possibly hit by light Flak and headed South at 6,000ft with glycol streaming from his engine. Two in a day! A bit much.’
Twenty-four-year-old Sergeant Andrew O. ‘Mac’ McMurdon from Salisbury (now Harare), Southern Rhodesia, had taken off in Typhoon JR30620 at 1715 hours:
‘Shortly after releasing my 2 x 500lb bombs on the target, my Typhoon was hit by flak. I baled out near Rouen, and when my parachute opened German soldiers on the ground opened fire on me. I took a dim view of this, especially as I was falling into their hands. I emptied my parachute and fell into a wheat field, where three Germans jumped over the surrounding wall and opened up on me again – fortunately I wasn’t hit. I was then taken prisoner and locked up in a jail.
‘Four days later I was taken into an underground bunker and pushed into a room where, to my surprise, there was another Rhodesian – Bill Baillie – also from my squadron. He had been shot down in the morning.’
Hence the comment ‘Two in a day! A bit much.’
F/O C.W. ‘Bill’ Baillie had taken off in Typhoon MM981 at 1015 hours with seven other aircraft to attack an ammunition dump near Dieppe. The SORB records:
‘Took off with 197 and 257 Squadrons as 24 aircraft. Target was bombed from S.S.E. to N.N.W. from 11,000 to 5,000ft. 75% of bombs were seen to fall in target area which was smothered in smoke, but no explosions were seen from the ammo dump. F/O Baillie was last seen heading South at 6,000ft streaming Glycol and saying that his radiator temperature was excessive.’
The SORB also records:
‘A fine day. 8 aircraft in the morning and bombed what was supposed to have been an ammo dump, the bombing was excellent but unfortunately the dump wasn’t there. F/O Baillie had engine trouble over the target area and was last seen heading inland having called up saying he was going to bale out. He has an excellent chance of being safe.’
‘Mac’ McMurdon continues:
‘Bill Baillie and I introduced ourselves, with four Germans watching us to see if we knew each other and what we had to say. In Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) we have a mixed native language called chi-lapa-lapa, which we use when speaking to the locals. I spoke to Bill in this lingo and there were looks of amazement on the Huns’ faces as they hadn’t a clue.
‘We were later taken to Dulag Luft, and spent a grim time there in solitary confinement with endless interrogation, and mental torture to break one down. I was told that I would be handed over to the Gestapo, but this did not happen. At the beginning of the trip to Luft 7 I was given soup at a transit camp [Bill Baillie was sent to Stalag Luft 3]. I will always remember the cloth banner above the kitchen which read “I had no shoes and I murmured, until I saw a man with no feet”. I believe it is an Arabian proverb.’ [‘I murmured because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet’ is a more common version of this Persian saying.]
*
Some 22,000 flight engineers were trained at RAF St Athan, South Wales, during the war, among them nineteen-year old John Robinson from West Hartlepool. He then made up a crew with P/O John Booth (pilot); F/O Arthur L. Hill RCAF (navigator); F/S J. MacGregor (bomb aimer); F/S Derrick G. Bicknell (wireless operator); Sergeant John Terry (mid-upper gunner); and Sergeant Tom Moffet (rear gunner). Posted to 166 Squadron (1 Group) with Lancasters at RAF Kirmington (now Humberside Airport), they arrived on the squadron during the first week of 1944, and began operations in February.
They had completed twenty operations, including the very costly raids on Nuremberg (24/25 March) and Mailly-le-Camp (4/5 May), when their luck ran out. On 19/20 May they flew in Lancaster ME775 on a raid on the Orléans railway yards. 118 Lancasters and twenty-four Mosquitos of Nos. 1 and 8 (PFF) Groups carried out an accurate attack on the target, but several 166 Squadron crews reported having seen a Lancaster going down in flames near Paris on the way to it.
This was ME775, the only Lancaster that failed to return. John Robinson:
‘Our shooting down marked the one and only time we were attacked by a fighter. It was a black night and we had made a practice of not firing at shadows. We had corkscrewed at the rear gunner’s request, and were straightening out when he said that he could see a light, but could not make out if it was on the ground or in the air. A phrase he often used.
‘However, he had just got halfway through the sentence when I saw tracer whipping by under my feet as I squatted in the nose dropping “Window”. The starboard wing lit up, we were fully loaded and the bombs were jettisoned by the bomb aimer, who then removed the nose escape hatch. He pointed to go, and I went, losing a boot as I left. I landed between Dreux and Chartres, and was captured by Gendarmes near Arounville [Arnouville] on 21 May.’
After solitary confinement and interrogation at Dulag Luft, John Robinson went to Luft 7.
*
Derrick Bicknell remembered that ‘as far as I can recall we were attacked by a German night-fighter a little after midnight. We were shot down near Jumeauville, and I was picked up by a German patrol the following day.’ He went to Stalag Luft VI (and Stalag 357), while Arthur Hill and J. MacGregor went to Luft 3. Tom Moffet was hidden by a French farmer in Goussonville until being liberated by the US Army and returned to the UK on 26 August. John Booth and John Terry (aged nineteen years) were killed and are buried in France.
It is not certain who shot them down, but Oberleutnant Jakob Schaus, 4./NJG4, was the only German night-fighter pilot to claim a Lancaster on this night. Though several other Lancasters were lost on operations to other French targets they were all lost to light flak. Schaus was himself to be killed in action on 2 February 1945, by which time he had twenty-three victories to his name.
*
Having qualified as a wireless operator at No. 2 Radio School, Yatesbury, Wiltshire, Don Scopes went to No. 7 Air Gunners School, Stormy Down, South Glamorgan, Wales, to train as an air gunner. From Wales he was posted to 19 OTU at Kinloss, Morayshire, Scotland, and then to 1663 Heavy Conversion Unit at Rufforth, Yorkshire. After he had flown operations on 102 and 78 Squadrons, and after instruction at the PFF Navigation Training Unit at Warboys, Huntingdonshire, he and his crew were posted to 635 (PFF) Squadron.
On 21/22 May 1944 510 Lancasters and twenty-two Mosquitos of Bomber Command carried out the first major raid in over a year on Duisburg, the largest inland port in Germany. Though accurate Oboe sky-marking was achieved over a cloud-covered target, twenty-nine Lancasters were lost, among them Lancaster ND45021, F2-Y for Yoke, 635 (PFF) Squadron, with its crew of F/S P.S.M. Robinson (pilot); F/S H. ‘Hank’ Parker (navigator); Warrant Officer Ken G. Taylor RCAF (Obs/bomb aimer); Sergeant Frank C.V. Tuck (flight engineer); Sergeant Douglas R. ‘Don’ Scopes (wireless operator/air gunner); Sergeant C. Shaw (mid-upper gunner); and Sergeant R. ‘Shorty’ Stuart (rear gunner).
Taking off from Downham Market at 2253 hours (21 May) and having marked and bombed the target, ND450 was on its way home when it was hit by flak between Rotterdam and the Dutch coast. The SORB recorded:
‘“Y” F/S P.S.M. Robinson hit by flak. Starboard outer caught fire, Nav II Warrant Officer Taylor and Sergeant Scopes baled out over Holland. Aircraft recovered, despite injuries to Pilot and Flight Engineer. Landed at Manston (0315 hrs), no pressure on brakes, and taxied off runway into petrol bowser. Pilot and flight engineer detained Station sick quarters, Manston. Remainder of crew safe and uninjured.’
Having baled out in all the confusion Don Scopes landed in a potato field a few kilometres west of Rotterdam at about 2 to 3 am (22 May). With no idea where he was, he wandered off along a rough track, as three searchlights pierced the overcast sky in the distance. The searchlights went out, and it started to rain, but it stopped soon after. Seeing a farmhouse with a light on, Don decided to take a chance. Opening the door, he was inside before anyone could stop him. To the three men in the room, he announced that he was ‘RAF’. A lot of talk followed, none of which Don could understand, before one of the men said ‘Come’, and led him off to another farm. There he was given ‘black bread (horrible) and some cheese (worse still) and some milk (very good)’.
Some while later Dutch police arrived and escorted him on foot to the German commandant at Maassluis. In the afternoon two guards took him by electric train to Rotterdam, where they changed to a steam train for Tilburg and, after a short bus ride, reached a German camp. Don was given a thorough search and interrogation. He was released from his cell after over 16 hours and, to his relief, found that ‘four other RAF chaps’ were there too, ‘whose presence bucked me up more than it’s possible to say’. The five prisoners were marched to the local railway station and caught the train to Amsterdam, and to their next prison.
Early next morning, 24 May, Don briefly saw Ken Taylor in the same prison. Three days later the RAF prisoners were assembled and taken by train to Amsterdam and then to Venlo and another prison. There was, as Don said, a lovely view from the cell window, and a crowd of Dutch folk assembled and gave the prisoners the ‘V’ for Victory sign. The German guards took a dim view of this and threatened to shoot anyone who put his head out of the window.
The prisoners vegetated in Venlo until 31 May, when they were taken via Cologne, Mainz and Frankfurt to Oberursel for interrogation. On 2 June they were moved to the Wetzlar transit camp, and on 4 June began the long journey to Bankau, on which Don and Ken were re-united. On the train they managed ‘to get two corner seats, seats wooden, bars on window’. The carriage was very crowded and, not surprisingly, was very uncomfortable. On 6 June the train came to a halt at Bankau. Trupp 1 had arrived.
*
Another victim of night-fighters on the Duisburg raid on 21/22 May was Lancaster ND956, AS-I for Item, 166 Squadron, also shot down on the way home, with its crew of: F/S Trevor G. Franklin (pilot), F/S Bruce F. Bird (navigator), Sergeant Stanley D. Spencer RCAF (bomb aimer), Sergeant John F. Tomney (flight engineer), Sergeant James Kiltie (wireless operator/air gunner), Sergeant Andrew A. Anderson RCAF (mid-upper gunner), and Sergeant John Moffat (rear gunner).
John Tomney:
‘We took off from Kirmington at about 2230 hours to attack Duisburg. Having reached the target without meeting any enemy defences, we went in and bombed. On our return trip, when we were within two minutes of Amsterdam, we were illuminated by night-fighter flares. The next minute our port wing was ablaze, and cannon shells were exploding in the fuselage.22 Our skipper said: “Out you get, boys.” I went forward and jettisoned the escape-hatch, losing one of my flying boots in the operation – the other I lost when I baled out at approximately 21,000 feet.
‘On the way down, I began to think would I drop in the sea. Remembering there was a God, I began to pray – praying that if I dropped in the sea he would make things easy. After having floated down for about two or three minutes I began to go through thick layers of cloud, and it was very cold. The cloud broke and I could see the ground coming up to meet me. Before I knew where I was, I was struggling for dear life in a dyke. After managing to rid myself of my parachute, I clambered out of the dyke, took off my Mae West, shook myself, and felt utterly lost.’
Having landed near Hardinxveld, on the banks of the River Waal:
‘I began to walk along a cart track and before long I came to a mill. Having got the miller and his wife out of bed, I was able to dry my wet clothes. I slept until about 6 am when the miller handed me a cup of tea, an egg, and bread and cheese. Never have I been more surprised in my life when a Dutch policeman walked in, said “Good morning”, shook hands with me, and then said “God save the King”. Shortly after, another policeman arrived and I was taken to the police station at Sleivgort. At about 11 am the Feldgendarmes [military police] arrived and I was moved to their headquarters at Dordrecht. I believe it was there that I met Bruce Bird, our navigator.
‘We were then taken on to Tilburg and put into single cells. The Germans woke us in the morning (23 May) and we were assembled at the entrance to the jail, where I saw F/O J.W. Reilly – the pilot of G-George [Lancaster ND579, letter possibly M not G]. Also among us was Sergeant Don Scopes. Following a train journey to Amsterdam, we spent six days solitary confinement at a military barracks. The food we were given was good, and there was enough of it to satisfy a body.
‘In the afternoon of 28 May we were moved by bus to Venlo, and put in a prison that used to be a convent. I was in a room with Don Scopes and a Canadian, Warrant Officer Ken Taylor. On the 31 May we were moved to Dulag Luft. There I met many USAAF boys and their courage and fortitude was bang on. They just didn’t give a damn for the Hun. 2 June saw us moved to the transit camp at Wetzlar. There I met John Robinson and Ron Bland who were both on the same engineers’ course as me. John was also on my squadron.’
John Tomney and Bruce Bird were sent to Luft 7, as were Robinson, Bland, Scopes and Taylor, all in Trupp 1. The rest of the crew of ND956 were buried at Goudriaan.
13 June 1944. Trupp 2 (thirty-seven men) arrived, two of whom were recovering from wounds and had come from a Lazarett (hospital).
The first of the group to be documented was Sergeant Edmund ‘Paddy’ Adair from Belfast, a wireless operator/air gunner on 630 Squadron operating Lancasters out of East Kirkby, Lincolnshire. He and his crew of P/O E. ‘Ted’ Champness RAAF (pilot); F/S V.S.J. Stan Zucker RAAF (navigator); Sergeant G. Naugler RCAF (bomb aimer); Sergeant J. Johnstone (flight engineer); Sergeant Les ‘Titch’ Jones (mid-upper gunner); and Sergeant A. Pickering (rear gunner), were shot down on 22/23 May 1944 (Brunswick), in Lancaster JB546. It was Paddy’s ninth operation:
‘At 1.20 am (23 May) I spotted two fighters on the “Fishpond”, and informed the two gunners. I had to take a message from base HQ and as I was taking the broadcast number the fighters attacked and cannon shells were flying around us. I immediately switched over to the intercom and heard the pilot ordering us to put on our parachutes, as the starboard inner engine was on fire. Then he had a roll call and all the crew, except the rear gunner, said they were OK. On the first attack, the starboard inner engine and the bomb-bays were on fire. The mid-upper turret (and probably the rear turret), and the rudder-bar were shot up, so the pilot could not corkscrew the aircraft. When the bomb aimer informed the pilot that the bomb bays were on fire, and asked if he should jettison the bombs, the pilot said: “No, we will carry on to the target.”
‘We were sitting ducks when the fighters attacked again. I believe the petrol tanks exploded, and the navigator, mid-upper gunner and I were blown out of the Lancaster. I always thought that my pilot should have been awarded the Victoria Cross. While trying to put out the fire, I was struck a glancing blow by a cannon shell on the right side of my head, and knocked unconscious. When I came to I was in the air. I immediately went for my ’chute, but it was not on my chest. I looked up and saw it above my head. The two bits of cord, which held my ’chute on to the main harness, had broken. I tried to pull the ripcord, but nothing happened as my right hand was injured. I then ripped open the ’chute with my left hand – which had the tops of three fingers missing. My ’chute opened, but as it caught my weight I was hanging in a large tree. I reckon that I must have fallen 25,000 feet unconscious. I landed near Quackenbrück, and was captured by the Luftwaffe.’23
Stan Zucker:
‘The plane was strafed from tail to nose. I made my way forward to assist the pilot, and the wireless operator and the mid-upper gunner started to go to the rear. Then the plane went into an uncontrolled dive and blew up. The wireless operator and the mid-upper gunner were blown clear when the tail broke away. I was apparently blown through the Perspex canopy above the pilot, and knocked unconscious. I regained consciousness a few seconds before an unceremonious landing on the barbed wire fence of a military camp – but on the outside, luckily! Somehow my ’chute had miraculously opened. I can still remember my panic-stricken search for the rip-cord as I touched down. My injuries were: a broken rib, left knee badly contused, right ankle sprained, and a gashed head.
‘I landed near Quackenbrück (north west of Osnabrück), and I decided that I had better find a hiding place. I chose a nice thicket of brambles and bracken, and went off into a deep sleep. Sometime during the morning I was awakened by voices. I then realised that I had selected the only clump of bushes on the village green. After a nerve-racking day, as it grew dark, I moved out.’
Despite his injuries, Stan Zucker evaded capture for four days, before he was caught by police in a field of wheat near Lingen. Taken to a police station, and later handed over to the CO of a fighter squadron, he was locked up in the airfield’s guardhouse. ‘Paddy’ Adair and Stan Zucker arrived at Luft 7 together. Together with ‘Titch’ Jones, who had arrived on 6 June, they were the only survivors. At the end of June Paddy and another RAF POW with a broken spine (probably Warrant Officer Geoff Haworth – see page 41) were transferred to Stalag 344 (Lamsdorf) for hospital treatment.
‘Paddy’, who returned to Luft 7 in October, related an interesting event which, although not directly related to Luft 7, merits inclusion:
‘I was born in Wetteren, Belgium, where I lived until I was seven years old. Consequently, I could speak Flemish and understand a little German. On my second operation (Schweinfurt 26/27 April 1944) I discovered how the Germans were defeating the wireless operators’ tinselling efforts. On all squadrons the wireless operators were briefed before we left on ops to search a certain range of frequencies which the German night-fighters were using that night. When we crossed the enemy coast, I was searching my band of frequencies, and I picked up two German night-fighter pilots. So I pressed my key. All British bombers had a microphone near an engine, and on pressing the transmitter key, this sent the engine noise through the air over a range of 100 miles.
‘When I lifted my key the German pilots were cursing and swearing at receiving the engine noise in their earphones, and I had a good laugh to myself. They went off the air, and I marked the frequency on my transmitter with a pencil. I kept on searching, and about a half hour later a perfect English voice was repeating one to ten on the same frequency that the German night-fighters were using. It was a very strong signal, at first I thought it was one of our Pathfinders giving a tuning transmission. But then I thought the RAF wireless operators say “Fife” for Five, “Niner” for Nine, and “Zero” for Ten. So I knew it was a powerful German transmitter, controlled by the German radar system. As you know, the German and enemy territory was split up into squares, and each square was given a number. I realised that all the German night-fighters wanted to know was a few figures to find out the bombers’ height, course, speed, and square number. Only a few German night-fighters in those days had radar onboard, so most of them had to get this information from ground radar i.e. 25 = 25,000 feet (height), 18 = 180 degrees (course), 24 = 240mph (speed), and 35 (square number).
‘The beauty about this simple solution was that the German pilots hadn’t to learn to speak English to receive essential information, but all they had to know was English figures from 1 to 10. The RAF wireless operators on a raid on hearing English spoken would not jam the transmission, but would jam German, Dutch, and Flemish being spoken. So I thought to myself if the German who was transmitting 1 to 10 started to change the figures I would press my key. He did so, and I immediately did so for a minute or two. On lifting my key the Germans were again cursing and swearing. Every half an hour this happened repeatedly, and I was enjoying myself. I entered the frequency and time of the German broadcasts in my log-book. I was unable to jam the powerful German broadcasting station, but I was able to stop the German night-fighters from receiving the message. On leaving the enemy coast, the German station stopped broadcasting.
‘At debriefing, the IO (intelligence officer) wanted to know if any of us had seen any coloured lights over enemy territory, and if we had seen any bombers shot down – my crew gave him this information. After that, my pilot said I had information on how the Germans were getting round our tinselling efforts. The IO told me to inform my wireless officer, but this I could not do as he was away on a course. I then handed my wireless log-book etc. to a young pilot officer, who was standing in. He had been up all night and wanted to go to his bed, and he told me the same thing as the flight lieutenant IO had said.
‘I did five more ops over France, and I got a week’s leave. I was not permitted to go home to Ireland, as D-Day was soon to begin. I arrived back at 630 Squadron on Saturday 20 June, and my wireless officer still hadn’t come back from his course. I should have told my story to the CO, but I did not do so, as I thought that when my WO comes back he will see my wireless log-book and report to the CO. On Sunday, 21 June 1944, we laid “vegetables” [“Gardening” – mine-laying] in Kiel Harbour, and the following day we were shot down going to Brunswick.’
*
Once the south of Italy had been made safe following the invasion, a number of bomber squadrons were based at airfields on the Foggia Plain, near the Adriatic coast, well placed for operations across the Adriatic Sea. On the night of 3/4 May 1944, 205 Group mounted an attack on the railway marshalling yards in the north west of Bucharest, capital of Romania, the object of the raid being to disrupt enemy supplies reaching the front in Moldavia. Sixty-two aircraft were sent – fifty Wellingtons, five Liberators and seven Halifaxes – but it was a difficult target to locate due to low haze, and most of the sixty-six-and-a-half tons of bombs dropped fell on the city instead.
One aircraft failed to return – Wellington HE956, 150 Squadron, based at Amendola, approximately sixteen kilometres north east of Foggia. The circumstances of its loss are not known, but all five of its crew survived to become prisoners of war. The only one of the five to be held captive in Germany (the rest were kept in the Balkans) was wireless operator/air gunner Sergeant Charles W. Finlayson, a married Scotsman from Musselburgh. He remained on the run until 21 May, arriving at Luft 7 in Trupp 2.
*
On 20/21 October 1943, while RAF Bomber Command’s main force went to Leipzig, twenty-eight Mosquitos went to Berlin, Cologne, Brauweiler, and Emden. Two Mosquitos – DZ519 and DZ597 – both from 139 (Jamaica) Squadron, RAF Wyton, Cambridgeshire were lost. The crew of DZ597 were killed, but the DZ519 crew – F/L Archie Mellor (pilot) and F/S Philip H. Brown (navigator) – survived being lost over Assen, Holland.
It was their third consecutive trip to Berlin in as many nights, and Phil Brown’s twenty-third operation:
‘On my last op we were coned by searchlights over Berlin, and hit by flak. One engine decided it had had enough on the way back, and the other carried on manfully, but over north-west Holland it too decided to give up. Thus I was forced into my one, and only, parachute jump. I landed in a ploughed field, and spent the first two or three weeks with some farmers. I was then moved by the Underground to a house in Meppel. From there I went to Maastricht, Brussels, Paris, and Toulouse. Sadly, after a hair-raising attempt to cross the Pyrenees, our small party was intercepted by a German patrol on 6 February 1944. I spent the next three months in various gaols in Toulouse, Fresnes (Paris), and Wiesbaden, before the Gestapo decided to let me go.’
In this ‘hair-raising attempt to cross the Pyrenees’ was a party of twenty-six personnel who were being escorted to Spain by members of the Dutch-Paris escape line. Ten of the group managed to slip through the enemy cordon that had been thrown round them,24 but not Phil Brown, another to arrive at Luft 7 in Trupp 2.
Archie Mellor, on the other hand, was more fortunate. Assisted by the Comet escape line (Le Réseau Comète), he successfully returned to England, landing at RAF Lyneham on 2 January 1944, and was Mentioned in Despatches on 8 June 1944.
*
During May 1944 Bomber Command carried out two raids on the large German military camp at Bourg-Léopold, Belgium, the first on 11/12 May, the second, and larger, one on 27/28 May with 267 Halifaxes, fifty-six Lancasters, and eight Mosquitos. On this later raid one Oboe-aimed target indicator fell bang on the target. Though severe damage was caused to the camp losses were heavy, with one Lancaster and nine Halifaxes failing to return.
One of the Halifaxes was LK865, C8-Q, 640 Squadron, from Leconfield, Yorkshire, with its crew of F/O Frank Williams DFM (pilot); F/S Roy P. Olsen RAAF (navigator); Sergeant Tom H. Riley (bomb aimer); F/O K. Lambert DFC25 (flight engineer); Sergeant Ian R.B. ‘Jock’ Crawford (wireless operator); Sergeant Hubert Messenger (mid-upper gunner); and Sergeant T. Stewart White RCAF (rear gunner). F/O Lambert, an experienced second-tour man, had volunteered to take the place of the crew’s regular flight engineer, Sergeant C. Crompton, who had reported sick.
Their skipper should have been Flight Lieutenant Bazalgette Osbourn DFM26 but, with no operational experience on type, he had been sent as second pilot with an experienced crew on an operation to ‘learn the ropes’. Failing to return from his second second-pilot trip on 22/23 April 1944 (Düsseldorf), he was, however, the only survivor of Halifax LW640, and became a POW at Stalag Luft III (Sagan).
Osbourn’s replacement, Frank Williams, had already completed a tour on 78 Squadron, earning the DFM (gazetted 10 September 1943) for landing a Halifax after all four engines had failed at 12,000 feet. So, it was Frank Williams who, shortly before midnight on 27/28 May, took off at the controls of LK865. The trip to the target was routine but, bombs dropped, they were on their way back when attacked by Oberleutnant Georg-Hermann Greiner, 11./NJG1, for his thirtieth victory. (Greiner would survive the war with fifty-one victories, forty-seven of them at night.)
Roy Olsen:
‘After “bombs gone!” we had proceeded some distance on our return flight, when suddenly the intercom packed up. Flames were visible to the rear of the pilot, who was at the controls and trying to steady the plane. I pulled with all my strength to free a stubborn front escape hatch. Then Tom Riley took over and wrenched it away. I left quickly, trying to follow the escape drill procedure – count to three before pulling the rip-cord, so as not to be entangled with parts of the plane.
‘After my parachute opened, I saw the burning plane on its downward course, and the explosion when it hit the ground. I landed, possibly, between Bourg-Léopold and Schoonselhof, where I was captured by two German soldiers on duty at an outpost. I was then transported to Antwerp gaol, Dulag Luft, and Luft 7.’
Roy Olsen was immediately followed out of the same escape hatch by Tom Riley and Ian Crawford. Ian landed near Wortel, and was captured by German soldiers.
‘The night-fighter hit us from the starboard quarter down at, I would guess, 200 yards. He got both starboard engines with a short burst. Strangely enough there were two concentrated cylinders of sparks coming back rather than flames. During the attack, the flight engineer went back to help the mid-upper gunner. He evidently got there because the two are buried in a common grave. I was the last to jump, based on the fact that I was the only one who didn’t see the plane crash. I went out of the tail turret. I couldn’t get my electric suit unplugged, and jumped with it still connected – it unplugged then.
‘I spent a day hiding in a wood, and then went a few miles to a village, where I hoped to find a bike. I was picked up by two German soldiers, and that was the end of my escape plan. I think that the village was fifteen or eighteen kilometres north of Turnhout. I was taken to Turnhout Castle (built in 1110),27 and locked in a room about 5 feet by 10 feet at the top of the castle. It had a door at least 3 inches thick and one barred window. That evening I was taken to Antwerp and a day or so later to Brussels – where I met Roy and Ian. The plane came down in a pond on a farm that was used as a rehabilitation centre for drunks and vagrants, near Wortel. Apparently there are still two engines at the bottom of the pond.’
Ian Crawford, Roy Olsen and Stewart White arrived at Luft 7 with Trupp 2 on 13 June. Tom Riley, who followed a week later in Trupp 4 on 20 June, had found shelter with the Belgian Resistance before being caught.
The other three were killed. On his second tour of ops after four years on active service, Frank Williams, who would have celebrated his twenty-first birthday on 5 June 1944, is buried in Schoonselhof Cemetery near Antwerp with F/O Lambert DFC and Sergeant H. Messenger who, in the words of Ray Olsen, ‘was very young and was greatly liked and respected by the crew’.
*
Of the 108 Halifaxes, twelve Lancasters, and eight Mosquitos whose target was the Orléans railway yards on the night of 22/23 May 1944 only Halifax LL138, 77 Squadron, RAF Full Sutton, Yorkshire, failed to return. The crew were: Warrant Officer Geoffrey T. Haworth (pilot); Sergeant Charles Thiepval Hale (navigator); F/O Alvin M. Beatty RCAF (bomb aimer); Sergeant Reginald A. Rose (flight engineer); Sergeant R.G. James (wireless operator/air gunner); Sergeant R.J. Peggs RAAF (mid-upper gunner); and Sergeant John D. ‘Jack’ Taylor (rear gunner).
Geoff Haworth:
‘Ten minutes after bombing the target, the aircraft was attacked by a night-fighter – damaging the controls, and forcing it into an unrecoverable dive. The navigator, rear gunner and I baled out – the rest of the crew were killed during the attack. I suffered a fractured spine on baling out, and landed about forty to fifty miles west of Orléans. French villagers hid me for some hours but, because my injury needed treatment, had to hand me over to German troops. En route to Dulag Luft from Paris, eight of us were surrounded by a hostile crowd at Frankfurt railway station. It was touch and go for about ten minutes before they were dispersed by our guards.
‘I arrived at Luft 7 on 13 June, and was sent to Kreuzburg hospital for examination. On my return to Luft 7, I jumped down off the motor lorry, and a young German guard told me by sign language, to be more careful – pointing at my back he said “kaput” – the hospital had not told me that my spine was fractured. On 20 June, I was transferred to Stalag 344 Lamsdorf hospital, and repatriated in an exchange of wounded prisoners in January 1945, via Switzerland. My navigator, Charles Hale, stayed in the vicinity of where the aircraft crashed – possibly injured or evading capture. However, he was caught, and [was] in a German troop convoy which was shot up by RAF low-level aircraft after the invasion (22 June), and was killed.’
The rear gunner, Sergeant Jack Taylor, also captured, arrived at Luft 7 in Trupp 1.
*
Another Halifax lost on the Aachen raid on 24/25 May 1944 was LK885, 51 Squadron. Shot down by flak after bombing the target the crew were: P/O Carl Lawson RCAF (pilot); F/S John H. Noel RCAF (navigator); Sergeant Joe Hooks RCAF (bomb aimer); Sergeant Wilfred Gosway (flight engineer); Sergeant Ken C. Minifie RCAF (wireless operator); Sergeant Bruce A.M. Fraser RCAF (mid-upper gunner); and Sergeant Stan P. Beech RCAF (rear gunner). Lawson, Gosway, and Beech were killed during the attack.
Ken Minifie baled out, but was captured at Acht (near Eindhoven), Holland, and arrived at Luft 7, accompanied by F/S John Noel, on 13 June. Bruce Fraser was captured near Tilburg on 8 July, and arrived at Luft 7 twelve days later.
Joe Hooks was soon in friendly hands. Meeting up with WO2 J.H. Frame RCAF, 405 Squadron, who had also been shot down on the Aachen raid, the two evaded capture until they were liberated in September 1944, when Allied forces overran their hiding place.
*
Shortly before reaching the target on 22/23 May 1944 (Brunswick) Lancaster ME790, 106 Squadron, was flying at around 14,000 feet when it was hit by flak and blew up. The only survivor from the crew of eight –a ‘second dickie’ RCAF pilot – was wireless operator Warrant Officer George H. Pringle RAAF, on his thirteenth operation. Suffering ‘injuries to the face, a broken arm, and flak wounds’ he landed by parachute near Hildesheim. Captured by German troops five minutes after landing, at about 2 am on 23 May, three weeks later he arrived at Luft 7.
*
Operation Tungsten was launched by the Royal Navy at the end of March 1944 in a determined effort to destroy the German battleship Tirpitz lurking in Kåfjord, Norway. A strong force of ships was sent to Norway to do the job, among them the aircraft carrier HMS Victorious. Having taken part in the successful attack on the Tirpitz on 3 April 1944 (though only damaged and not sunk, Tirpitz was put out of action for several months), she flew further reconnaissance missions from her decks on 16 May. One of the aircraft involved was Fairey Barracuda LS547, 831 (FAA) Squadron, crewed by Sub-Lieutenant (A) T. McK. Henderson, RNVR (pilot); Sub-Lt (A) V. H. Hutchinson, RNVR (observer); and Acting Petty Officer Victor Smyth, FAA/RN (telegraphist/air gunner).
As a result of particularly bad weather in the North Sea on that day the crew of LS547 became lost, and had to request D/F bearings. Against normal practice, the ship broke W/T silence and sent their bearing out many times, but it was never picked up by the Barracuda. With the fuel situation critical, Henderson decided to head east and, hopefully, reach the Norwegian coast. They were within sight of the coast when the fuel ran out, and Henderson skilfully landed the ‘glider’ on a narrow, sandy beach at Stave, in the south west of Norway. The crew scrambled out unhurt and set fire to the aircraft. A German radio broadcast actually reported that ‘a British glider had landed in Norway’.
Following their capture the crew were taken to Oslo, and then through Denmark and on to Hamburg. After interrogation, the two officers went to Stalag Luft III (Sagan), while Smyth went to Luft 7, where he arrived on 13 June.28
*
138 (Special Duties) Squadron, based at Tempsford, Bedfordshire, from March 1942 until March 1945, was employed in parachuting SOE agents, and weapons, explosives and equipment to Resistance organisations in occupied countries.29 On the night of 31 May/1 June 1944, the crew of Halifax LL276, NF-F, were slated for Operation Osric 74, a supply drop to the Belgian Resistance. As LL276 had been specially modified by the removal of its mid-upper turret only a rear gunner was carried. Its crew were: Warrant Officer H.G.F. Murray (pilot); F/O J. Pearcey RCAF (navigator); F/S L. Peter Notton (bomb aimer); Sergeant Thomas McCluskey (flight engineer); F/S Fred Stead (wireless operator/air gunner); Sergeant A.P. Cliff-McCulloch (rear gunner); and Sergeant R. Robinson (dispatcher).
As they approached the Dutch coast they were attacked and shot down by Feldwebel Wilhelm Morlock, 3./NJG1, in his Bf110 night-fighter. Sergeants Cliff-McCulloch and Robinson were killed during the attack. Murray and McCluskey baled out, but drowned in the Scheldt (Schelde in French). Pearcey, Notton and Stead also baled out and were captured. Pearcey went to Luft 3, while the two NCOs, Notton and Stead, went to Luft 7.
Fred Stead:
‘Having baled out, I landed in the Schelde near the town of Tholen. I was then captured early in the morning of 1 June, shortly after swimming out of the sea, by Armenian soldiers in the German army [see also Smithson page 188]. Peter Notton and I arrived at Luft 7 on 13 June. At that time conditions were basic to say the least, but in the next few weeks things began to get organised, and books and musical instruments were being supplied by the YMCA.
‘In the beginning, we had no medical facilities, except those provided by the Germans. And minor injuries were occurring in the day to day activity of the camp. In addition were the men coming in who had been wounded and discharged from German hospitals, many of whom were still in need of medical treatment. An MI (medical inspection) room had been set up in one of the huts by one of the POWs (F/S Robert O. “Slim” Ellis) who had been a member of the St John Ambulance Brigade. As the camp grew rapidly in members, he soon became in need of help, and since I had also been a member of the SJAB, I joined him at the end of July. We were, of course, under the direction of the German Arzt [doctor], and had two elderly orderlies allocated to us – more to keep an eye on us than to help. I don’t think they had much more knowledge than we had, though they did their best.
‘As the weeks passed, the MI room grew and grew with men being taken ill with the normal ailments of humanity. Huts around were turned into wards, and Hut 75 was made available as living accommodation for the medical staff, which had been increased to four. During September we were able to organise dental parades for treatment by the German dentist in their medical quarters, which were always accompanied by armed guards.’
*
By October 1942 the tide was beginning to turn against Feldmarschall Erwin Rommel and the Deutsche Afrika Korps (DAK) in North Africa. Though its lines of supply in the desert had been overstretched, the port of Tobruk was still in Axis hands, and was able to receive a diminishing supply of material from Italy. As part of the overall Allied plan, therefore, RAF bombers did all they could to deny the port to the Germans, and bombed it ‘on nine nights between 6/7 and 20/21 October, with a total of 352 sorties sent to bomb shipping and dock installations or to lay mines in the harbour’.30
One of the bombers, Wellington DV873, 108 Squadron, was within half an hour of Tobruk on the night of 19/20 October 1942 when its starboard engine packed up. The pilot, Sgt W. Simpson, ordered the bombs to be dropped, and turned back to base (Kilo 40) with the aircraft rapidly losing height. Simpson was unable to prevent the Wimpy from heading deeper into the desert, south rather than east, and about twelve minutes later was forced to land the bomber, which he did with none of the crew being injured. Their position was estimated to have been some seventy miles south of Sollum Bay, near the Qattara Depression.
At 0210 hours on 20 October aircraft ‘C’ and ‘Q’ of 108 Squadron, flying on the same operation as DV873, picked up an SOS, possibly from DV873, but were unable to get an accurate bearing. They did, however, see red distress signals in position 30.30’ N, 27.30’ E, but it is not known whether these were from DV873 or not. A report to higher authority made by 108 Squadron’s commander on 22 October commented: ‘Two aircraft of this squadron operating against Tobruk on the following night [20/21 October] observed a steady white light burning in approximately the same position (30.22’ N 28.45’ E) at 0330 hours, and it is believed that this was from the aircraft DV873 missing on the previous night.’
As DV873 did not catch fire the light was unlikely to have emanated from it or its crew, as all six of them had immediately started walking in an easterly direction. They walked for six days, with the second pilot, P/O E.R. Patrick RCAF, growing weaker and weaker all the while. The others had to keep stopping every few minutes to allow him to recover, until eventually he collapsed. Setting off to find water, hopefully at the nearby Qattara spring, they had walked for barely fifteen minutes when they stumbled upon an Italian camp. Machine-gun and rifle fire pinned them to the ground, and they were soon captured.
The two officers in the crew – Patrick and P/O J. Mills (rear gunner) – were flown from Tobruk to Italy, while the other four – Sgt W. Simpson (pilot); F/Sgt J.A. Hutchinson RCAF (navigator); Sgt A.T.S. Williamson (wireless operator); and F/Sgt H.A. Martin RAAF (front gunner) – went by road to Tripoli, Libya. They were then shipped to Palermo, Sicily and, in November, sent to Campo PG 66 (Capua), a transit camp not far from Naples on the mainland of Italy.
In December 1942, while the other NCOs were sent to camps in the south, Howard Martin was moved to Campo PG 57 (Gruppignano), near Udine, way up in the north east of Italy, where he was to spend the next nine months. It was here that he heard of the death of a fellow Australian, Private Simmonds, who ‘was shot whilst barracking at a cricket match being played in the [next] compound… Nothing short of murder.’
Within a few hours of the Italian armistice early in September 1943 the German army took control of the Italian POW camps, and arranged for the Allied prisoners to be moved to camps in Germany and Austria. Martin was on his way by train with other POWs on 22 September 1943 when he escaped. He was not free for long, though, and was sent, after a short stop at Stalag XVIIIB (Wagna), to Stalag XVIIIC (Markt Pongau) (also numbered Stalag 317), both of which were in Austria. Conditions at XVIIIC were bad for the first two months: ‘No blankets. No paliasses. No lights. No Red X [Red Cross parcels].’ He came to Bankau on 13 June 1944, the same day as Trupp 2.
Also arriving on 13 June was F/S V.R. ‘Stumpy’ Duvall, 97 Squadron, who had been shot down on 24/25 March 1944 on the last of the raids of the so-called ‘Battle of Berlin’. His Lancaster, ND440, hit by flak at 20,000 feet over the Ruhr, was finally forced to ditch in the English Channel. The impact was heavy, and several of the crew were injured. Duvall’s leg was so badly injured that it was later amputated, and he was repatriated from Luft 7, with fellow Luft 7 POW Stan Aspinall, in 1945.
*
16 June 1944. On this day, the first game of cricket was played at Luft 7. Although the Red Cross and the YMCA between them were to supply many things to the kriegies, they had not yet provided cricket equipment! Being summer of course, the thoughts of the first POWs at Bankau had turned to playing, but, without proper equipment, they had to make it themselves. The ball was fashioned from the string of Red Cross parcels, wound up into a ball, and the bat from a purloined piece of wood. The ‘ball’ took a bashing, and during the game two or three more had to be made. Alas, history (Den Blackford’s diary) does not record the details of the match.
It was not long, though, before sports equipment began to arrive at Bankau. Den Blackford:
‘We got some softball equipment, and as soon as that arrived we had a pick-up game with the few Canadians that were in the camp, and they were the ones who showed us how to play. Of course, we got beaten pretty badly, but really from then on softball was the game to be played because at least we had decent equipment.’
It was now early July, and in the fine weather prevailing at the camp – ‘it was extremely hot and very muggy’ – the non-Canadians often played softball against the expert Canadians, ‘and day after day we got beaten’. By this time, too, as over 250 POWs had arrived, there were enough men present to consider making up a number of cricket teams, split into ‘divisions’. On 9 July Nos. 1 and 2 Divisions played a match, which resulted in a win for No. 2 Division by twenty-six runs. Den Blackford: ‘We used a softball, incidentally, to play with because our homemade cricket balls didn’t last too long!’
Other sporting equipment were boxing gloves, and a well-organised series of bouts was held on 15 July, attended by the Camp Commandant. Two days later, some real cricket equipment arrived, and the competition continued apace in the glorious July weather.31