PRE-INVASION PLANNING AND D-DAY
HOME LEAVE
Landing back at Perranporth in Cornwall on a dull, cold and wet Sunday afternoon in February, still suffering from the after-effects of overindulging in Gibraltar, I phoned Het and told her to meet me in London the next morning, and to bring some money We met and stayed at the Savoy for a few days, where we made up for an absence of twenty-one months. I then reported to the Air Ministry to find out what fate had in store for me. It was a job in Army Co-operation Command, which was the last thing I wanted.
During the meeting I was handed a note which to my surprise I found to be from the C-in-C Fighter Command, Air Marshal Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory. It was he who in October 1939 had told me about his plans for night-fighters, and who told Het at the party at Wittering in September 1940 what he had in mind for me. His message was simple: ‘Come and see me’. This I did. He told me that he was aware of what I had done in the desert and now I was to take some well-deserved leave. When I told him that I had already been told that I would be going to Army Co-operation Command, he said, "Forget that, I will tell you what you will be doing when you return from leave." Het and I spent that leave in London and Wrexham.
After about ten days Het returned to her job as a teacher at Gwersyllt Church of England school whilst I lazed my time away. The leave, which lasted a month, came to an end when, returning from a fishing trip with an old school friend who was also on leave from the RAF, I was told that a telegram had arrived for me from the ADC to the C-in-C of Fighter Command. The telegram, which came on a Thursday, said that Leigh-Mallory would see me at Chester on Saturday where he was taking the salute at a Wings for Victory parade. He was there in the role of ‘the local boy made good’ as he was the son of Canon Leigh-Mallory, Vicar of Doddleston near Chester.
The alternative was to see him at his HQ at Bentley Priory on the Friday. Being an extremely keen type, within a couple of hours I was on the midnight train to Paddington. I was ushered in to see the C-in-C the next morning. He came straight to the point, saying that he wanted to introduce fresh blood into his OTUs and that I was to become station commander of Aston Down and the commander of 52 OTU with the acting rank of group captain. I was twenty-seven. Overjoyed, I asked him when I was to start, to which he replied, "Now, straight away, and you will be there for six months".
I immediately went into London where I bought a ‘scrambled egg’ hat (so-called because of the gold braid around the peak) at Gieves the tailors and had a fourth stripe put on my uniform before returning to Paddington to catch a train for Stroud in Gloucestershire. It was a journey I had last made on 2nd October 1939 but that time my posting was cancelled and my stay at Aston Down was limited to two days.
On the afternoon of 20th March I presented myself to the station commander, who was probably twenty years older than me, who greeted me by saying that he had only just heard that I was taking over. I was most embarrassed. He wished me luck and departed.
ASTON DOWN
MARCH-SEPTEMBER 1943
The station was now mine. It all seemed so simple. That night I stayed in the mess.
The next morning I met my subordinate commanders, amongst whom were my right hand man, Wing Commander John Lapsley (soon to be relieved by Peter Brothers), the chief flying instructor, Squadron Leader Dafforn, the chief ground instructor, Squadron Leader Crusoe, the officer in charge of administration, Squadron Leader Whittle who, in addition to his normal duties ran the thriving station pig farm, and the head WAAF officer Flight Officer Haggerty (known as ‘The Hag’). She was soon to be relieved by Mary Boyd, who remained a close friend of Het until she died in the early 1970s. My last two meetings were with Wing Commander Taylor, a very high-powered ex-civil engineer, who was in charge of the maintenance and service unit on the station and to the civilian head of the air transport auxiliary unit which was also on the station. This was composed of male and female civilian pilots who did much of the ferrying of aircraft from the units to the squadrons.
The main job of the OTU was to take students who had completed basic flying training and to turn them out operationally fit for frontline Spitfire squadrons. We also had responsibility for the Fighter Leaders School at Charmy Down near Bath, and South Cerney, a satellite airfield near Cirencester. That April while on a short course at Wittering I managed to fly solo in a Mosquito and on 2nd May made my first solo flight in a Mustang – which in my log book I described as ‘delightful’.
Life on the station was almost too good to be true. Het, now showing signs of pregnancy, resigned from her job and in April came down to live with me in the Cotswolds. I had rented one of two cottages known as the Nook and Cranny, in the village of Amberley, about three miles across Minchinhampton Common from Aston Down. Ours, the Cranny, she refused to live in. This, despite the fact that I had already paid a deposit of £20 – a large sum in those days. We stayed for the next three weeks in Field End, Amberley. This was a lovely Cotswold house, converted into a guesthouse by Phyl Mould, the widow of ‘Boy’ Mould, who had been in 1 Squadron at Tangmere. He had survived whilst with them in France in 1940 with the Expeditionary Force but had been killed in Malta in 1941. We eventually found a place nearby which was part of a house (Dial Cottage) owned by Sir Fabian Ware, head of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.
The arrival from Tangmere of Peter Brothers, who took over from John Lapsley, made life even better. He was accompanied by his wife Annette and we remained close friends thereafter. One of the important jobs I gave to Pete was to increase the throughput of students without sacrificing operational efficiency. This he achieved with great success.
My personal aircraft was initially a Spitfire Mk2 No.8132 and latterly a Spitfire Mk VB – No.262. On occasions, Pete in his Mk V and I would fly away to visit chums at other stations. I still recall one night when we had flown to Charmy Down for dinner or a drinks party – I forget which. Around about midnight I said to Pete, "Time to fly back". Quite rightly he remonstrated with me saying that we had had too much to drink, but I insisted. We started up our Spitfires and then with the aid of a lorry’s headlights on the opposite side of the airfield we took off – and what is more surprising landed some minutes later at Aston Down. After that I vowed never again to fly whilst under the influence and, apart from one other occasion, I never did.
On Sundays we often invited members of the local Home Guard, largely comprising senior retired army officers, to the mess for lunch. Music was provided by the all-star station band led by Sergeant Felix King, famous for many years as a noted London band leader. The CO of the Home Guard unit Brigadier Jock Campbell – the ‘Tally Ho’ VC of the First World War – was now a corporal.
Often there were pleasant diversions from normal station life; for example, I made speeches to local communities in small towns around Gloucestershire and took the salute at Wings for Victory parades in Stroud, Wotton under Edge and Dursley. On the twenty-fifth anniversary of the founding of the RAF on 1st April 1943 I took the salute near Minchinhampton Church at a march past of most of the personnel of the station.
On 9 th June I flew in my Spitfire to Biggin Hill to attend the ‘1,000th Hun Party’. (They were celebrating 1,000 claimed combat victories.) Later in June, for my desert service, I was awarded the OBE or, in the long form, I became an Additional Officer of the Military Division of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire.
My six months at Aston Down soon came to an end with my posting on 14th September to be station commander of Northolt and CO of Northolt Sector. Pete Brothers was also posted as chief flying instructor to another OTU, Rednal, near Shrewsbury where Station Commander Don Finlay was an Olympic hurdler.
My time at Aston Down had been a most welcome break for me but winning the war was still uppermost in my mind and I was keen to get back to active service. Often at dusk, which was about 11.00 p.m. as we then had double British summertime, we would see or hear the droning of bomber formations overhead doggedly making for their target somewhere in Europe. Next morning we would learn where they had been making for and how many of them had not made it home.
The Dam Busters raid, which took part during that summer, improved our morale no end. Unfortunately, it did not cause as much devastation as we had hoped. I had great admiration for those Bomber Boys.
NORTHOLT AGAIN
SEPTEMBER 1943-MARCH 1944
Northolt was a station with three Polish squadrons 303, 306 and 308 and one RAF squadron, all flying Spitfires, a large VIP transport squadron for domestic and overseas flights, and an operations room at Eastcote House near Ruislip.
It took time to get to know the Polish squadrons but gradually I began to like them and began to understand them in spite of the language difficulties. Their behaviour and code of conduct was very different from ours. Their obsession with chasing women (and catching) took up a lot of my time. It frequently resulted in a Pole and the mother of the girl involved appearing before me. Once indeed, I had both mother and daughter claiming that the same Pole was responsible for both their pregnancies!
The Poles were subject to rapid changes of mood. One moment they would be on the crest of a wave following a good operational mission. The next, worrying about the future of their beloved Poland, they would be sad, doleful and dispirited.
The senior Pole was Group Captain Tadeusz Rolski, ‘Rolski the Polski’, a polite, quiet, undemanding officer who wielded very little influence. The wing commander flying was Aleksander Gabszewicz, a different man altogether. One day, having asked Rolski to come to my office, I told him that it would not be long before the invasion and that the Polish squadrons comprising 131 Wing would participate in it and then move to France and on to Germany. For him it was an emotional moment and he had difficulty keeping back his tears. I then got down to business and told him that his Poles would from now on have to learn to fend for themselves domestically and for a start, I wanted them to take on the responsibility of doing their own ‘cookhouse’ chores. They would have to manage without the WAAFs doing the dreary work for them. I argued that the sooner they started the better. A date was fixed. Late afternoon on the appointed day, although I had heard there was trouble, I just sat back and waited. Eventually Rolski himself arrived saying, "We have great problems. The Polish men will not wash up their plates." I told him that to make it easier for him I would stop their food until they started washing up their plates. Naturally it worked. To me it was further proof that Rolski was far too weak to command the Polish wing. Only Alek Gabszewicz, a strong character in all respects, would be suitable. He was ‘tailor made’ for the job.
The comments I made to the Polish air force HQ were listened to. A big parade was held where Alek was presented with the highest class of virtuti militari. It was the first time that this medal had been awarded other than to a general victorious in battle. The way was now clear for him to be promoted to group captain and to take over 131 Wing. I got to know Alek well. I respected him and our friendship lasted until he died in 1994 following which I gave the address at his memorial service held in St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Of the two other units, the first was an RAF squadron equipped with unarmed Spitfires, and engaged on high altitude reconnaissance. Apart from station services and administrative support, they operated mostly as an independent unit coming under the operational control of our parent group, 11 Fighter Group. Their squadron leader CO, a little ball of fire, maintained a very good squadron. They were no trouble to me.
The second, an air transport unit, was very large. It served as a general air transport provider, having small and medium aircraft for domestic flights and large aircraft including Liberators and a York, for the increasing number of overseas flights by VIPs. The York was mainly used by Prime Minister Winston Churchill and other cabinet ministers. The crew of the York were hand-picked men of vast experience.
When flying to North Africa or points east the PM, who invariably stopped to have a word with me, would arrive just after midnight with his retinue and the take-off would be an hour later. He was particularly interested in the reaction of the Poles to events in their homeland. I was able to reassure him that in spite of their changing moods, their offensive spirit and hatred of the Germans and Russians had not diminished.
Whenever the York returned from North Africa it would be laden with fruit. This was most welcome. Oranges were generally in very short supply, bananas were unobtainable and had never been seen by those born during the war. I used to meet all VIPs, both service and political, returning from across the Atlantic. I particularly remember my talks with Anthony Eden.
The sector operations room was in a converted squash court in Eastcote House, some five minutes away from Northolt. It functioned twenty-four hours a day and was manned by army and RAF personnel. It was mostly active at night when enemy bombers were around and the fighters and anti-aircraft guns had to be controlled. The plotting of aircraft, hostile and friendly, was done by WAAFs who had clearly been chosen for their good looks as well as their intelligence. And good plotters they were too.
The chief controller, an RAF wing commander, was in charge but when night-bombers were likely to be active a brigadier was normally present but I was in overall charge. Occasionally, I spent the night there in a most luxurious bedroom.
It was while I was at Northolt that our first child Elisabeth was born on 26th November.
PRE-INVASION PLANNING
In March 1944, just after the departure of the Poles from Northolt (by then formed into 131 Wing), I was posted to 84 Group as CO of 23 Mobile Sector, one of the units recently formed by the newly established 2nd Tactical Air Force (TAF).
Preparations for the invasion had been in full swing since the end of 1943. Most of the planning was done at the 21st Army Group HQ in St Paul’s School, Hammersmith. This was directly across the road from Latymer Court (in which Monty and Eisenhower had flats). [Co-incidentally where we had a flat since 1973.]
The 2nd TAF was part of the Allied Expeditionary Air Force (AEAF) which had been established to control the tactical air forces consisting of: fighters, fighter-bombers, light bombers and reconnaissance squadrons. For specific purposes, the strategic bomber forces of the USAAF and RAF came together under command.
AEAF was commanded by Air Chief Marshal Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory, who had done much to shape my career in the war for which I was most thankful. But few senior air force officers, British or American, liked him or considered him fit for the job. He was considered to be pompous, overbearing, over-ambitious and did not take kindly to advice. But Monty liked him, which may not say much for Monty, but was all that mattered as they were to work closely together.
Mary Coningham was head of 2nd TAF, which comprised of two fighter groups: 83, commanded by AVM Harry ‘Broady’ Broadhurst, and 84, initially commanded by AVM ‘Bingo’ Brown, and subsequently by AVM ‘Teddy’ Huddleston, and a light bomber group commanded by AVM Basil Embry. As CO of 23 Mobile Sector, I was part of 84 Group. I had a small HQ staff consisting of five officers and a few airmen. The HQ was located close to Selsey, near Chichester, one of the many landing grounds on the south coast which had been built expressly for operations prior to and during the invasion.
In the sector I had two fighter wings, both with Spitfire IXs. These were the Hornchurch Wing and the Free French Wing at Predannack in Cornwall. I had two very competent wing leaders and two equally competent station commanders in Pete Simpson and Tony Linney (ex 229) at Hornchurch and Roy Marples (who sadly disappeared in mysterious circumstances whilst flying with the Free French) and Cam Malfroy, a notable New Zealand tennis player, at Predannack. When weather permitted I visited them daily in my personal Spitfire.
It soon became increasingly clear to me that Pete Simpson was ‘operationally tired’ so I arranged with Bingo Brown for him to spend three or four months lecturing in the USA before returning refreshed for operations. On landing from his next sortie I told Pete that he was finished with operational flying for the time being and explained what we had in store for him. He argued and argued until tears came into his eyes, a sure sign of complete exhaustion. When he asked whether he could see the AOC, I agreed. To my astonishment Bingo very foolishly agreed that he could continue flying. This convinced me that Bingo, a First World War ace, was too old and out of touch to understand such things.
The mobile sectors were disbanded after a few weeks – not surprisingly, as in my view they were serving no useful purpose – and I was given the excellent posting of group captain operations of 84 Group replacing a much-liked more senior chap, for whom I felt great sympathy. The war had taken its toll and he had practically become a nervous wreck.
Little is known of the great influence that Montgomery had on the invasion plans. The initial planning for Operation Overlord (code for the invasion) had started in London in May 1943. It was envisaged that the attack would be made by three seaborne divisions, with two more to follow, and two airborne brigades. The limit on numbers was dictated by the availability of landing craft and transport aircraft. At the end of 1943 Montgomery, who was chosen to command the allied assault forces, realised that the planning was poor. The assault forces were too small; the beachhead was too narrow and an airborne assault was needed with three divisions, not two brigades. Whatever criticisms are levelled at Monty, and I had many, there is no doubt that his decisions at that time made the difference between success and failure. In comparison his faults in other matters were minor. Had the original plan been actioned, the result would have been disastrous.
On Christmas Eve 1943 General Eisenhower was appointed supreme commander for Operation Overlord. He was the obvious choice. The Americans were supplying the majority of the attacking forces. He chose Tedder as his deputy with Montgomery commanding the British and Canadian ground forces and Leigh-Mallory, the allied air forces.
The AOC of 84 Group, Bingo Brown, did not seem to fit the part of commanding a tactical fighter group. He was certainly not as knowledgeable or experienced as Harry Broadhurst, the AOC of 83 Group. Thank goodness Bingo had a good SASO, Air Commodore Theodore ‘Mac’ McEvoy. I had known him as a flight commander in 1 Squadron at Tangmere in 1936-7 and his wife was a godmother to our daughter Elisabeth at her christening at RAF Northolt in March 1944. The AOA was a chap named Spencer. My most vivid memory of him was his booming voice, punctuated by expletives, on the occasion when he got tangled up in the camouflage netting over his caravan when he was in a hurry to get to a shelter during a night-bombing raid.
The HQ of the group was in a large country house close to Leather-head, called Headley Court which after the war was to become the RAF Rehabilitation Centre. We lived there in some comfort but this soon came to an end when, in preparation for the invasion, in late April we moved to Goodwood Park, about one and a half miles from my pre-war airfield, Tangmere. There we lived, and sometimes worked, as we would have to do all the way up to Germany. I was amongst the few senior chaps to have a caravan (or trailer); the rest were in tents.
One of those on the group planning staff was Tom Dalton-Morgan who had commanded 43 Squadron towards the end of the Battle of Britain. I was later to write of Tom, ‘it would be impossible to overstate Tom Dalton-Morgan’s importance and influence on the conduct of fighter operations for and beyond D-Day’.
By May it was clear that the invasion was imminent. Visitors were barred from large areas of southern England where troops were being assembled. ‘Where’ and ‘when’ was uppermost in the thoughts of every serviceman, woman and civilian.
At this time visiting HQs, wings and squadrons was mostly done using an Auster, a two-seater, short take-off and landing aircraft. The open space at Goodwood Park was just big enough for the operation of these aircraft. We had three of them.
During this time, the Duke of Richmond invited me and a chap called Peggy O’Neill, whom I had known well in the desert, to dinner at Goodwood House. During the evening we drank a huge amount of a whisky called Red Hackle, the after effects of which (a monumental hangover) persisted well into the next day. I made sure that I never drank Red Hackle again.
During the pre-invasion period the fighter and light bomber wings were kept very busy attacking flying bomb sites, airfields and road and rail junctions in northern France.
Churchill and the chiefs of staff had been under considerable pressure from their counterparts in America and Russia to agree to the launching of the invasion up to two years before it actually took place. Had they given in, the result would almost certainly have been catastrophic. Their resistance was based on logical arguments: on the practical experience gained from the complete failure of the Dieppe raid; on the desirability of first invading Sicily and Italy and on the absolute necessity of achieving air supremacy. The latter was partly brought about by the withdrawal of German fighters from France, both for the defence of Germany and for the Russian front.
The eventual successful outcome of the invasion owed much to the measures that were taken to hoodwink the Germans about the location of the assault. Thanks to very clever misinformation put out by the BBC, by the daily newspapers, by ‘double agent’ German spies unknowingly working for us and by signals traffic, the German leadership was completely taken by surprise. Rather than Normandy, Hitler and his generals expected us to land on the Pas de Calais beaches or even Norway and regarded Normandy purely as a diversion. Throughout the British intelligence services proved that they had no equal. It was an exciting time.
D-DAY AND THE INVASION OF FRANCE JUNE 1944
At the supreme commander’s meeting on 3rd June the weather expert, a group captain, forecast very poor weather for the next few days. At the next meeting early the following morning Eisenhower, normally so calm, exploded saying that for months he had been told that air support was essential, and now he was being told by Monty and Admiral Ramsay that they were prepared to go on the 5th even if bad weather prevented air support. He then postponed Overlord for twenty-four hours until 6th June.
On the night before the invasion my opposite number from 83 Group, Tap Jones and I, who for the previous few days had been attached for planning duties to the 11 Group HQ at Uxbridge, were invited to dinner by Marion McEvoy, with whom Het was staying. That night Tap and I arrived at the house very late for dinner. Marion at first appeared a little annoyed and subjected us to a barrage of questions about why we were so late. Tap and I found it difficult trying to co-ordinate our answers. She sensed we were not telling the truth and said, "I know why you are late, the invasion has been postponed". Seeing the horror on our faces and realising that Tap and I would have concluded that Mac (her husband) had told her the date of the invasion, she went to great trouble to tell us that her hunch was merely guesswork – which I am certain it was!
The night of 5th June was rainy and windy. I wish I had been there to see the armada of ships streaming towards their appointed beaches (two streams were American and one each British and Canadian) and to have seen and heard the bombardment of the enemy guns covering the sea approaches to Normandy by the navy and by allied bombers.
The success of the invasion was secured by our complete air supremacy. On D-Day plus one, our air superiority was such that the enemy could not reinforce their forward troops in daylight. All the Typhoons of 83 and 84 Groups were targeted at the armour to the rear of the main battle. They roamed far and wide and strafed, rocketed and bombed everything that moved. However, there was a huge cost to this as on that day, seventeen Typhoons were shot down by flak.
On D-Day plus three, 9th June, keen to see what was going on, I flew across the Channel, landing at St. Croix sur Mer, the first airfield to be liberated. Apart from the hundreds of ships close to the beaches, and much evidence of fighting, the Normandy countryside appeared unaffected. It seemed that many of the locals were afraid that their peaceful existence had come to an end. Admittedly, some greeted the allies with open arms but others seemed to take no notice of them.
I returned to England the same day with butter and Camembert cheeses which I gave to Het when I flew up to Wrexham on the Friday. I was hailed as very much the local hero.
In mid-July, when Broady’s 83 Group was established in Normandy, it was arranged that I should be attached to it. My brief was to keep 84 Group, which was still based at Goodwood Park, informed of what was going on. I reported on such things as the operating conditions, methods of control, the working of the link between the group and its GCC, the relationship with the British 2nd Army, and so on. This information was of critical importance when 84 Group eventually moved to France as, from day one, we were fully prepared to start operations supporting the Canadian 1st Army.
During that June and July in support of Operation Goodwood, 84 Group’s UK-based squadrons of rocket-firing Typhoons and light bombers continuously pounded the enemy’s positions around Caen in support of the allied armies which were gradually establishing a larger and larger bridgehead in Normandy.
By 25th July General Bradley’s army group, supported strongly by the USAAF, had broken out from the Cherbourg peninsula and began a major offensive from St. Lo towards Avranches. By the 30th, when he had reached Avranches he decided that General Patton’s army would lead the drive eastwards. The German forces fought with tenacity and fell back in an orderly fashion until Hitler gave the order, one of the many which proved disastrous for the Germans, to counter-attack against the US force at Mortain. He refused to permit a withdrawal to the Seine. The German counter-attack failed and led to a retreat through the Falaise Gap and on to the Seine, which was reached towards the middle of August. It was here the defeated remnants of the German armies in Normandy took a severe mauling from our air forces as they struggled back across the Seine.
It was on 8th August, during the German withdrawal to the Seine that 84 Group HQ finally moved to France. Following this move across the Channel, we set up our headquarters at Amblie, a few miles from the beachhead. 84 Group consisted of five fighter wings: 35,123, 131,145 and 146, and was designated to support the Canadian 1st Army. The group HQ was therefore co-located with the Canadian 1st Army HQ.
The GCC was originally conceived as the group’s mobile operations room with the staff work and planning being done by the Group HQ. As such they were situated close by. However, as the campaign developed it became clear that ‘planning’ could not be divorced from ‘operational control’. This was exacerbated by the fact that the location of the GCC was dependent upon that of the wings and airfields, which were often many miles from the group HQ. As a result the GCC was soon delegated the main responsibility for the detailed planning as well as the execution of the group’s operations.
Due to our proximity to the Canadian 1st Army HQ I was invited by General Crerar to use the senior Canadian officer’s mess but, in common with most of my colleagues, soon elected to return to our own as we disliked the formality of the army mess.
In the five days up to 16th August the group concentrated on attacking the enemy endeavouring to escape through the Falaise Gap. Nearly 1,000 sorties were flown and a total of 260 motor transport and tanks were destroyed.
I believe that it was at this time that air power really came into its own. Rocket-firing Typhoons from both 83 and 84 Groups began operating in ‘cab rank’, where a squadron patrolling over the front line would be directed on to the targets by controllers on the ground who were attached to forward army formations. In addition, the light bombers of the USAAF and RAF and American fighters and fighter bombers created havoc amongst the German forces. By the end of the first day of the enemy retreat it was clear that air history was being made. The destruction of men and machines by the Tactical Air Forces was greater than had ever been achieved before. This continued throughout the retreat until the Battle of Normandy was over. The allies had complete air superiority.
During the Battle of Normandy the German 7th Army lost 10,000 killed and 50,000 taken prisoner and was left with only 100-120 tanks and assault guns out of their initial force of 2,300. However, this was at some cost, as in the same period the allies lost 4,100 aircraft and nearly 17,000 aircrew, divided almost equally between the RAF and USAAF, while 21st Army Group suffered 84,000 casualties.
On 14th August, during a massive daylight bombing attack on Caen, I received a call from the army asking for the operation to be stopped as British and Canadian troops were being bombed. I immediately got on to Bomber Command to be told that there was nothing they could do because the bombers were using their own discreet radio frequency during the actual attack and consequently could not be contacted. It transpired that the lead aircraft of a Canadian bomber group had dropped it’s coloured target markers on positions held by our own troops. The immediate response of the troops was to display their ‘colours of the day’. Unfortunately Bomber Command had not been told that the army’s colour of the day was yellow, whilst the target markers dropped by the lead bombers were also yellow. I was told that the C-in-C of Bomber Command placed the blame entirely on the bomber group for its appalling navigational error. He sacked its CO and reduced the rank of the squadron commanders. Our army suffered over 400 casualties that day.
20th August
The last three days have been extremely hectic. I’ve been getting up between 6 and 7 and getting to bed just before midnight. Our chaps have done magnificently, saved thousands of army lives. I often wish I had my own unit rather than being a staff officer in a group.
21st August
It’s pouring with rain and the clouds are right down to the ground. Although it means we can’t fly it’s probably a good thing as everyone was in need of a rest. I myself was so tired out that I stayed in bed until 10 this morning. I’ve only been away from this HQ once since we started operating, so I think I shall drive round to some of the wings this afternoon.
We shall probably have a different change of scenery soon, and I hope to manage a day off before that takes place. I must choose it carefully as I need to ensure the weather will be good enough for me to fly back the next morning. I hope I can manage it soon!
24th August
Took a few hours off yesterday and drove close to Deauville and then on to Lisieux where I saw some of the fighting. The news is good, we’re fairly rushing ahead.
In early September, shortly after Paris had been liberated, I took the day off to drive the seventy-five or so miles to Paris from Evreux where our HQ then was. The celebrations were still going on with an intensity and fervour that one would expect from the French, free again after four years of occupation. However, I also saw quite a lot of chastisement of collaborators. Paris seemed to have suffered little damage and I was able to obtain a bottle of Chanel No.5 and of Schiaparelli Shocking. These I despatched to Het by the hand of a friend. It was a great luxury – no French perfume had been obtainable in England since 1940. In fact I think it was the first she had ever had.
7th September
At the moment our advance is so rapid that one can’t grumble at all. Two days ago during one of our moves I drove down to Paris from Brionne and spent half an hour there buying you some perfume. It looked magnificent. From there I went up as far as Chantilly, then northwards. I was driving for about twelve hours. More moves again soon and everything is so good I can’t see ourselves becoming static for some time. Never been to Brussels...
The early part of September was marked by very poor weather which limited the support we could give to the Canadians, who nevertheless managed to overrun the V1 sites in the Pas de Calais area. Compared with the rate of advance by the American and British armies after the decisive victory in Normandy, that of the Canadian 1st Army on the left flank was slow due the stubbornness of the enemy resistance in the French Channel ports of Le Havre, Boulogne, Calais and Dunkirk. The Belgian ports of Ostend, Zeebrugge and the island of Walcheren, which dominated the sea approaches to Antwerp, similarly hindered our progress. It was essential that these ports should be cleared as quickly as possible because the supply situation of our advancing armies was becoming increasingly desperate.
Le Havre eventually fell on 11th September, Boulogne on the 22nd and Calais on 1st October.
84 Group’s role of supporting the Canadian 1st Army in the Pas de Calais led to constant close support sorties by our wings. As the intelligence summary of our GCC put it, these consisted chiefly of, ‘a steady hammering of enemy garrisons, strong points, and gun positions and in close support of the Canadian troops whose progress at this stage was necessarily measured in yards, rather than miles, against an enemy who was prepared to defend every ditch and dyke and to hang on to every watery foot of this dismal terrain’.
16th September
Managed to get away from here [St. Omer to where the group HQ had moved] for the evening two nights ago so flew to Johnnie Walker’s place (135 Wing was based at Merville with Desmond Scott’s 123 Wing) and went into Lille with him and Ray Harries. The place appears very little affected by the war and we were able to buy champagne quite cheaply and drink it with zest. I also visited one of the big storage dumps (underground) which the Huns had been trying to construct with thousands of men for well over a year. Bomber Command had fixed it beautifully.
Well sweetheart mine I hope to get off for a day during the next fortnight. I hardly get a moment to write. In addition to controlling current operations I am planning future attacks. There is a big one tomorrow.
19th September
Managed to get away yesterday afternoon so visited Ypres (was only there for about ten minutes, but it looked a marvellous place), Menin Gate, Menin, Courtrai and Ghent. I went with Sandy, Sailor Malan and Bill Compton. It was dark unfortunately when we got to Ghent as there was a curfew, but we managed to get the odd bottle of wine. Stayed the night with Sailor and got back this morning. Mac is in England for a day’s leave. I’ll try and get away as soon as I can, probably on 25th or just after that. But I do want to receive a letter from you before then.