‘As if in deference to their wishes the alarm siren shrieks and red warning lights flash. ‘The skip’s spotted something!’ Hutchinson shouts as he heads towards the bomb racks. As he and another crew man pull down the side flaps of the bomb bay and press the button that moves the depth charges out on a track to their position on the lower surface of the wing, Sumner banks as tightly as possible and dives at full throttle in the direction of something long and black in the distance. The thing - it’s a sub all right - appears to be five miles away, but distances are deceptive over water. Uppermost in each man’s mind is the question, ‘Will it see us and submerge before we can attack?’ The answer comes only seconds later, when the alarmed enemy crash-dives to safety. The vicinity around the sub’s vanishing act is carefully scrutinised, but any attempt to depth-charge now would be nothing but the wildest stab in the dark - the raider may have beetled-off in any direction. ‘Bring in the bombs’, orders the skipper and the load of high explosive returns to its stowage in the fuselage. Now the circling begins anew, but the patrol period is soon over. A signal to that effect is sent to one of the escort destroyers. The Sunderland turns for home ...’

Although 19 Group Coastal Command was always on the hunt for U-boats it was not averse to making attacks on other vessels like speedy blockade-runners whose captains were well versed in all the arts of maritime deception. Almost invariably these were picked up as they approached the Bay of Biscay. In January 1943 the Rhakotis was spotted by a Hampden on 502 Squadron and shadowed by a Sunderland on 10 Squadron RAAF. She was finished off by a cruiser which ‘homed’ on to the flying boat. This single stroke deprived Germany not only of useful quantities of fats, vegetable oils, quinine bark, tea, tin, rice and wolfram, but also of 4,000 tons of rubber-enough to supply four armoured divisions for a year. And the fate of the Rhakotis was by no means untypical; in the first four months of 1943 only one blockade-runner out of seven reached the French coast. After that, until the end of the year, the Germans gave up even trying.

During mid-1943 an unprecedented number of submarine sightings and attacks kept the plotters at Coastal Command busier than ever before but out of 52 U-boats sighted in the bay of Biscay, 28 were attacked but only one (U-332) was sunk, on 29 April, although two were so badly damaged that they had to return to France for repairs. In a combined attack Flying Officer R. deV. Gipps on 461 Squadron forced a surfaced U-boat to dive in his first attack, dropping a marker flare on the spot. Flying Officer N. C. Gerrard next came in to attack, just as U-119 had surfaced and was bringing its anti-aircraft guns to bear on the huge, airborne target. Dropping depth charges around the now zigzagging submarine, the crews of both Sunderlands saw the apparently stricken vessel draw to a stop in a flurry of foam, and returned to base to claim it as sunk. U-119 however, managed to return home for repairs, but was subsequently sunk on 24 June by HMS Starling when it was caught on mine-laying operations off the coast of the USA.

In May 1943 the number of U-boats sighted rose to 98, the number attacked to 64 and the number destroyed to seven. On 1 May Admiral Dönitz¹⁰⁰ issued his ‘Fight Back’ order to the U-boats, whereby the submarine should engage the attacking aircraft rather than risk an emergency dive which would leave it vulnerable to depth charge attack. The U-boat was an uneasy anti-aircraft platform even in calm sea. Air Chief Marshal Sir John Slessor KCB DSO MC, commanding Coastal Command had the greatest confidence in his crews and averred would not be deterred by casualties from attacking U-boats at low level. Events would prove him right. ‘It is up to us to take the fullest advantage of the good opportunities afforded before the buzz goes round in the Biscay ports that fighting back is an expensive and unprofitable pastime’ he wrote. At the same time he did everything possible to give anti-submarine aircraft protection against anti-aircraft fire. Additional forward-firing guns were mounted and the gunners ordered to use them to the fullest possible extent during the run up to attack.

The Australian Sunderland squadrons claimed five submarines and a share in the destruction of two others between 29 April and 2 August 1943 and during that year each squadron received fourteen decorations for gallantry. On 29 April in the Bay of Biscay attacks were made by ‘F’ on 10 Squadron RAAF and ‘P’ on 461 Squadron. The 10 Squadron aircraft was first to attack. At 1102 hours a smoke float was sighted; the aircraft investigated and then sighted the periscope of a U-boat in the act of surfacing. It was U-332 commanded by 24-year old Oberleutnant zur see Eberhard Hüttemann, which was bound for the North Atlantic on its sixth war cruise. U-332 opened fire and the Sunderland attacked from the port quarter, releasing six Mk.VIII Torpex depth charges, Mk XVI pistol, set to shallow depth, spaced slightly less than 100 feet, while U-332 was still on the surface. Immediately after the depth charge explosions, an oil streak was seen and then blue and black smoke. At this point Sunderland ‘P’ flown by Flight Lieutenant E. Smith appeared and carried out an attack, its depth charges being accurately placed, although no success was credited. Credit for the kill went to Flight Lieutenant A. Russell Laughland DFC, a Liberator pilot on 224 Squadron. U-332 was lost with all 45 hands. Two days later Flight Lieutenant E. C. Smith was airborne in DV968/M and in an attack on U-415 damaged the boat. Later that day a Whitley on 612 Squadron piloted by Norman Earnshaw found the U-boat and dropped six depth charges at the swirl but they fell wide. He made a second attack and dropped his last two depth charges and these caused ‘heavy damage’. However, U-415 could still dive and was able to limp into Brest. ¹⁰¹

U-boat losses (to all causes) peaked in May, forty-one being lost. Taking off at 1331 hours on 2 May M/461, at the start of a busy afternoon, Flight Lieutenant E. C. Smith later spotted a U-boat on the surface well out in the Bay west of St Nazaire. It was U-465 commanded by 28-year old Kapitänleutnant Heinz Wolf, which was bound for the Atlantic. The conning tower was sighted and a flame float was dropped, followed by an aluminium sea marker and marine marker. Smith sighted the U-boat on the surface and turned in to attack from four miles astern with six depth charges. Diving through broken cumulus cloud, he was at a low altitude, a mile astern, when the U-boat’s gunners opened fire, Smith’s nose gunner retaliating. Straddling his quarry with four depth charges, the pilot saw four enemy gunners hurled into the sea by the blast and circled to attack again. By now, U-465 had begun to turn in tight circles, its rudders probably out of action and the stricken submarine began to founder. During the Sunderland’s next attack, several of the crew members counted fifteen men from the 48 crew jumping into the sea just as the conning tower slid under in a turmoil of foam, accompanied by much wreckage and a huge pool of oil. U-465 sank horizontally and then the stern emerged and disappeared vertically. None of the fifteen or more men who were seen to abandon ship were rescued.

On 7 May in the Bay of Biscay Flight Lieutenant Geoffrey G. Rossiter on 10 Squadron RAAF piloting Sunderland W3993 ‘W-William’ on Derange patrol, spotted U-663 on the surface and straddled the submarine with six 250lb depth charges. Nothing further was ever heard from the commander 28-year old Kapitänleutnant Heinrich Schmid and his crew, who had left Brest on only their second war cruise on 10 March. The boat was lost with all 49 hands. North-west of Cape Ortegal at 0931 on 11 May, U-528 inbound from the North Atlantic was bombed by Halifax BB268 ‘D-Dog’ on 58 Squadron flown by Pilot Officer J. B. Stark DFC after the submarine had been damaged in an attack by a USN Catalina south-west of Iceland. U-258, which was heading back to Kiel on the surface, submerged but was depth charged to the surface by the sloop HMS Fleetwood and the corvette HMS Mignonette escorting Convoy OS.47. It was abandoned under gunfire with eleven crewmen killed. The commander, Kapitänleutnant Georg von Rabenau and 44 hands were rescued and taken into captivity.

During the morning of 12 May U-456 commanded by 27-year old Kapitänleutnant Max-Martin Teichert damaged the straggling 7,138-ton SS Fort Concord, which was loaded with a full cargo of grain and a deck cargo of military supplies. The U-456 was on its eleventh war cruise having left Brest on 24 April and had sunk six ships during patrols in the Arctic and North Atlantic. On the night of 12/13 May, 600 miles NNE of the Azores, U-456 was attacked by a Liberator on 86 Squadron and was badly damaged. On the following morning on the surface attempting repairs U-456 was discovered by Sunderland ‘G-George’ flown by Flight Lieutenant John Musgrave on 423 Squadron RCAF. U-456 was unfit to dive but Teichert did so anyway and he was depth charged by the destroyer HMS Opportune. The U-boat sank with the loss of 49 hands. ¹⁰² Teichert was awarded a ‘Ritterkreuz’ posthumously. Five hundred miles north-east of the Azores Flight Lieutenant John Musgrave attacked U-753 commanded by 34-year old Korvettenkapitän Alfred Manhardt von Mannstein with depth charges in the face of heavy 20mm flak. The destroyer HMS Pathfinder, frigate HMS Lagan and corvette HMCS Drumheller, which were escorting Convoy HX.237 were called up by the Sunderland and they finished off the submarine with ‘Hedgehog’ attacks. U-753 was lost with all 47 hands.

On 24 May Dönitz suspended attacks on convoys in the North Atlantic. So successful had the campaign against U-boats become in 1943 that U-boats had to seek new counter moves against air attack. More Junkers 88s came out to protect the submarines and the German crews themselves began to show a preference for remaining fully surfaced to fight it out with AA guns, where previously they had quickly submerged on the approach of aircraft. Type VII ‘Flak boats’ or ‘flak traps’ were introduced to lure and destroy anti-submarine aircraft. Their first success came on 24 May when west of Gibraltar, the veteran U-441, the first of eight such boats, which was armed with two quad 20mms on bandstands fore and aft of the conning tower and a rapid fire 37mm flak gun on a second, lower bandstand aft, plus nests of machine guns on the bridge and a team of highly trained gunners, shot down Sunderland EJ139/L on 228 Squadron flown by Flying Officer H. J. Debden, who also damaged the U-boat’s bow area by depth charges. None of the flying-boat crew survived. U-594 also laid claim to the same Sunderland. But mainly the only result of the new German tactics was the sinking of more U-boats. ¹⁰³

On 31 May U-563 commanded by 26-year old Oberleutnant zur see Gustav Borchardt, was bound for the North Atlantic having left Brest on 29 May on its eighth war cruise, when it was attacked by Halifax HR774/R piloted by Wing Commander Wilfred E. Oulton DSO DFC on 58 Squadron. ¹⁰⁴ At 1550 hours Oulton’s flight engineer sighted an indistinct wake six miles distant. Oulton, who had just taken over the controls from Flying Officer Anthony J. W. Birch the second pilot, confirmed the sighting with binoculars as being a surfaced U-boat travelling at 12 knots. He began stalking the submarine, turning the Halifax to starboard, using the 5/10ths cloud clover to bring the aircraft into a position for an attack before finally breaking cloud at 3,000 feet, four miles from the target.

It was only then that a second U-boat was sighted dead ahead, but within seconds it had crash-dived. Oulton never hesitated and he went straight for U-563, his navigator opening fire with the nose gun at 1,000 yards and recording strikes on the conning tower with a second burst from 600 yards seen to penetrate it. With the U-boat now yawing, Oulton swung to starboard making his final run in at an angle of 30° to the U-boat’s track and dropping six depth charges across it. As the spray subsided, Oulton brought the Halifax in again from dead astern, the navigator again laying down concentrated fire from the nose position as three more depth-charges were dropped. As the spray plumes from the depth charge explosions subsided, the U-boat was seen to be lying beam-on to the sea surrounded by a large oil slick and a great deal of wreckage.

As Oulton circled the U-boat weaving and varying height, Borchardt’s gun crew fired back at the Halifax with flak guns. Oulton’s gunners raked U-563 with machine gun fire, cutting down members of the crew manning a cannon mounted just abaft of the conning tower. By now, U-563 was moving slowly in small circles with a heavy list to starboard. Twice more the Halifax gunners raked the submarine with machine gun fire but it was still obstinately afloat when Oulton received the recall order 70 minutes after he had sighted it. As he turned for home Halifax DT636/J on 58 Squadron piloted by Pilot Officer Eric L. Hartley appeared and dived to attack the crippled U-boat. Though Oulton tried to warn him to take his time he was unable to make contact. Hartley carried out two almost identical attacks, dropping nine depth charges but they fell short. Although they produced a fresh gout of oil and white vapour U-563 still refused to sink. ¹⁰⁵

Two Sunderlands now took a hand. Flight Lieutenant Maxwell S. Mainprize DFC on 10 Squadron RAAF recalled: ‘The U-boat, which had been trailing oil and manoeuvring freely, stopped. I circled and made a second attack with four depth charges, two minutes later, from the starboard beam. After the second attack the U-boat was down by the bows, stern clear of the water. It appeared to be sinking slowly.’ Flying Officer William M. French DFC on 228 Squadron also carried out two attacks, both of which straddled the U-boat and it sank. More than thirty survivors were seen in the water wearing life jackets but none of the 49 hands were rescued. A search on the following day by Ju 88s carrying life rafts also proved futile. The kill was shared between the Halifax and the two Sunderlands. ¹⁰⁶

That same day Flight Lieutenant Douglas M. Gall DFC piloting DD835/R on 201 Squadron attacked U-440 in the Bay of Biscay. The U-boat, which was commanded by 27-year old Kapitänleutnant Werner Schwaff who had been born in Peking in 1915, was bound for the North Atlantic on its fifth war cruise. Gall attacked in the face of heavy flak from U-440 and dropped four depth charges in a good straddle near the U-boat’s stern. The explosion must have badly holed the submarine aft because her bow raised vertically and she sank stern first. The U-boat was lost with all 46 hands. ¹⁰⁷

An epic air battle occurred on 2 June when Sunderland ‘N for Nan’ on 461 Squadron piloted by Flight Lieutenant C. G. Walker, who was on antisubmarine patrol in the Bay of Biscay at 2,000 feet was sighted by eight Junkers 88s six miles distant which immediately gave chase. Flight Sergeant R. M. Goode the tail gunner reported that the enemy aircraft were closing fast. Crew members manned their posts, several standing by guns mounted in the galley hatches - a special, unofficial modification peculiar to at least several machines on 461. The Ju 88s were flying at 3,000 feet in three formations, one of four and two of two behind. Walker opened full throttle and made for what cloud cover there was 3/10ths at 3,000 feet. The Ju 88s gave chase and took up attacking positions three on each beam, 1,500 yards distant and 1,500 feet above and one on each quarter at the same height and distance. The Sunderland jettisoned its depth charges and prepared to meet the attack. The Ju 88s peeled off to attack in pairs, one from each bow. The first attack hit the port outer engine, setting it on fire and also resulted in an incendiary bullet entering the P4 compass, setting alight to the alcohol. The engine fire was extinguished by means of the Graviner switch, but the engine became unserviceable. The alcohol fire, which had set the captain’s clothing alight, was also put out with the fire extinguisher. Walker and Pilot Officer W. J. Dowling, his first pilot, were both slightly burned. Dowling took control and continued with the evasive action. During the attack, one of the Ju 88s attacking from starboard broke away, exposing his belly to the midships gunner at point blank range. The midships gunner fired and the Ju 88 burst into flames and crashed into the sea, disintegrating immediately. The next attack, by the second pair of Ju 88s, severed the hydraulics of the tail turret, shot away the elevator and rudder trimming wires, the rudder and elevators were peppered and dozens of holes appeared in the helm. However, the midships and nose gunners made the enemy pay for his success.

Flight Sergeant Goode had been knocked unconscious when the tail was hit, but he came to and he and Flight Sergeant Fuller, one of the mid-ship gunners, opened heavy fire on another Ju 88 which came in on the port quarter - Goode, owing to hydraulic failure, depressing the sears with his fingers in short bursts. It broke away, bounced vertically and crashed nose first into the sea - leaving five Ju 88s to attack the badly damaged Sunderland. Simultaneously another Ju 88 came in on the starboard quarter and his burst wounded the starboard galley gunner. He died twenty minutes later. Meanwhile the port galley gunner drove off another of the enemy with his fire. Conditions now became chaotic. A shell hit the Sunderland’s wireless and the navigator, Flying Officer K. Simpson, was wounded in the leg by shrapnel. The intercom and the radio were shot away, the ASI ceased to work and evasive action was controlled by hand signals from the navigator to the second pilot and thence to the captain. Owing to the unserviceable engine and the damaged controls it required both pilots to carry out evasive action. A Ju 88 cut in from the starboard bow to meet the fire of the nose gunner who got in a good burst. The Ju 88’s port engine burst into flames and smoke billowed from its cockpit. The combat continued for forty-five minutes in all and the remaining Junkers stood off for a few minutes and then turned away at last.

The crew of the Sunderland estimated that every Ju 88 had been hit, with three shot down. Taking stock of the situation, the Sunderland crew now found that the hull was so strained that all doors had now jammed; the radio and instrument panels had been shot away, added to which there were some 500 holes in the aircraft, mainly in the hull. Despite his injuries and the damage to the aircraft, Walker nursed the Sunderland over nearly 300 miles of sea with one member of the crew killed and another injured and he just managed to reach the Cornish coast where he was able to carry out a landing in the surf. Preparing to abandon what was left of his charge, he noted that the beach itself was not far off, gunned the remaining serviceable Bristol Pegasus engines and beached the Sunderland just as it was about to sink. The crew were sent a message of congratulations by the Secretary of State for Air, Sir Archibald Sinclair and in forwarding this message the Air Officer Commanding-in-Chief added: ‘Congratulations were never better earned.’ It had been one of the war’s really outstanding combats against overwhelming odds. It brought the immediate award of the DSO to Walker and a DFC for the navigator, Flying Officer K. Simpson and a DFM for Flight Sergeant Goode. Simpson and Goode were presumed to have been killed flying with another captain not long afterwards.

On 13 June a surfaced U-boat group consisting of U-564, U-185, U-415, U-634 and U-159 were attacked by Sunderland DV967/U flown by Flying Officer L. B. Lee on 228 Squadron who was shot down by return fire from U-415 with loss of the whole crew. ¹⁰⁸ U-564, which was commanded by 28-year old Kapitänleutnant Hans Fielder, sent a signal to base reporting that it was badly damaged and the German Admiralty at once ordered U-185 which was nearby, to go to the help of U-564. At the same time two German destroyers were ordered to sea from La Verdon to meet and escort the submarine into port. On 14 June in the Bay of Biscay at 1439 hours U-564 and its escort, U-185, were found by Whitley BD220/G flown by Sergeant A. J. Benson DFM on 10 OTU. Benson asked for instructions. Base replied: ‘carry out homing procedure for aircraft in the vicinity’. This involved shadowing the U-boats and summoning other aircraft with sufficient endurance to the spot. At 1757 hours while still pursuing a lone course Benson signalled to base ‘have attacked with depth charges; hydraulic u/s’. After the attack and when struggling homeward the lone Whitley fell in with a number of Ju 88s which had also been sent to the assistance of the U-boats and Benson was forced down into the sea. U-564 however was sunk with the loss of 28 hands. Fielder and eighteen men were rescued by U-185. ¹⁰⁹

Next day another 228 Squadron Sunderland (JM678) flown by Flying Officer S. White attacked three U-boats, dropping four depth charges in an indeterminate attack before the flying-boat was engaged by Ju 88s but escaped into cloud. On 17 June Flight Lieutenant S. Butler pilot of Sunderland W6031 on 422 Squadron was on a Sea Slug 3 patrol when he sighted three U-boats on the surface. While attempting to close, his aircraft was engaged by the main guns and 20mm fire from all three submarines and all he could do was circle the area while his rear gunner sprayed the boats with machine gun fire while the wireless operator vainly attempted to fix his broken transmitter so that he could summon other aircraft and ships to the scene but the three U-boats disappeared into the haze.

On 27 June 1943 Flying Officer Brian E. H. Layne, a New Zealander, on Sunderland W6005/P on 201 Squadron operating from Castle Archdale claimed a U-boat destroyed when he attacked U-518, which had landed a secret agent in the Gulf of St. Lawrence on 9 November after leaving Kiel on its first war cruise on 26 September 1942. However, the submarine, which was commanded by 27-year old Kapitänleutnant Freidrich-Wilhelm Wissmann, was only seriously damaged and Wissmann was forced to put about for France but on 30 June a Sunderland on 10 Squadron RAAF piloted by Flight Lieutenant H. W. Skinner, hit the U-518 again. Skinner came in at 150 feet in the face of heavy gunfire. Six depth charges went down, one exploding twenty yards from the submarine’s port beam but the others overshot. Fire from the Sunderland appeared to hit at least three sailors on the conning tower but the German gunners also scored hits as the flying boat went over. The rear turret, port elevator, both wings and the rear section of the hull were all hit and the tear gunner, Flight Sergeant J. S. Burnham, not yet 21 years old, was mortally wounded. With his aircraft severely damaged, tail gun out of action and a seriously wounded crewman, Skinner broke off the action. Wissmann made it to Bordeaux on 3 July and after repairs, put to sea again on 18 August. The submarine was only finally sunk on 22 April 1945 on her seventh war cruise when it was depth-charged by two USN destroyers and was lost with all 56 hands. ¹¹⁰

‘The Sunderland was probably the most spacious of all RAF operational aircraft’ recalled James Kernahan, a front-gunner on 228 Squadron; ‘plenty of room to move around on the long 10 to 12 hour flights we made on anti-sub or convoy patrols. There were two pilots, a navigator, flight engineer and assistant and also a wireless operator and assistant, the mechanics and was doubling as gunners. We would spend two hours in a turret and have four hours off. When you were relieved you’d go into the bomb bay where there were bunks. Even though the two engines were roaring away each side, it was only a matter of a few minutes before you were asleep; the noise was no obstacle. The Sunderland had a nice galley at the rear and we ate well, especially while flying out of West Africa when we had steaks, oranges, bananas, sweets and all those things that were never seen by the general public in the UK. The worst thing was the boredom, continually searching the ocean with your eyes until you’d lose the horizon as sea and sky became one. Even so, there was no chance of becoming disorientated as the turret had to be rotated to and fro all the time, the two bolted doors behind your back rattling away every time you turned them into the slipstream. To try and overcome the boredom I’d have a crafty smoke - which one was not supposed to do in the turret - or scribble notes with my name and address on bits of paper, forcing them out of the rear turret. Watching them flutter away I probably hoped some girl would find them and write me. None ever did!’

Sunderland ‘M for Mother’ on 228 Squadron captained by Flight Lieutenant Charles Gordon Drake Lancaster, left Pembroke Dock in the early evening of 6 July 1943 for a 12-hour anti-submarine patrol over the Bay of Biscay.

‘It was uneventful until the sun started to brighten the sky in the east’ recalled James Kernahan. ‘I saw something on the sea ahead and excitedly told our Skipper that I could see a submarine. Before we could get within effective range the sub had disappeared but the Skipper decided he would conduct a square search of the area. As we were on the last leg I again caught sight of the submarine on the surface. The skipper called out ‘Tally Ho!’ and we charged in. Sitting in the front turret I opened up with the single Vickers .303 and saw the bullets curving into the conning tower. This fire was only intended to dissuade the crew from getting to their anti-aircraft guns. While I was firing, Lancaster had run the bombs out on their trollies and released them, but the rear-turret gunner reported only splashes and no detonations. Disappointed, we finished our patrol and flew back to Wales. We were greeted by the Intelligence Officer who produced a manual of submarines and asked me to identify the type. I selected what I thought was similar but he said: ‘No, you’re wrong, you attacked a British one like this’ and pointed to another picture. This was a demoralizing blow but happily the Navy lads had not taken any harm through either they or us being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Had we been able to find out who the crew were, it was our intention to stand them a dinner.’

On 12 July during a Biscay patrol, Sunderland DV977/Y on 228 Squadron flown by Sergeant R. Codd failed to return when the aircraft was shot down by Ju 88s with the loss of all except one of the eleven crew. After eight and a half hours in the sea the flight engineer, Sergeant E. Davidson, who was operating the mid-upper turret, was picked up by a Royal Navy sloop. ¹¹¹ Next day three surfaced U-boats - U-445, U-607 and U-613 travelling together and heading out for a patrol in the Central Atlantic - were spotted nine miles distant by Flying Officer A. R. Burns, the second pilot on the Halifax crew captained by Flying Officer A. R. D. Clutterbuck¹¹² on 58 Squadron. Clutterbuck and Flying Officer Reader D. ‘Hank’ Hanbury, captain of Sunderland JM708/N on 228 Squadron, who was on a Musketry patrol in the Bay of Biscay, circled the U-boats, which made no attempt to dive. Clutterbuck attacked U-445, which was commanded by 22-year old Oberleutnant zur see Rupprecht Fischler Graf von Treuberg but this submarine and U-613 dived in time to avoid being damaged. ¹¹³ After some time Hanbury, a former Imperial Airways pilot, managed to separate U-607 from the formation. This boat was bound for Jamaica on its fourth war cruise from St. Nazaire and was commanded by 24-year old Oberleutnant zur see Wolf Jeschonnek, half brother of the late Generaloberst Hans Jeschonnek the Luftwaffe Chief of Staff. Hanbury dropped seven Mk XI Torpex depth charges, set to shallow depth, spaced at sixty feet, from fifty feet. Evidence states that three charges fell close to the port side aft, one on the conning tower and three close to the starboard side forward. The attack was made under heavy flak and the pilot had to jink over the conning tower after release. The tail gunner and at least one other member of the crew saw the conning tower blown into the air. A large part of the bow moved forward, stood on end, went over the vertical and slid under the surface. Of the 52 crewmen, 25 were seen in the water after U-607 sank but only seven were rescued by HMS Wren.

On 15 July U-558 commanded by 29-year old Kapitänleutnant Günther Krech, in company with U-221 commanded by Kapitänleutnant Hans Krojer was moving independently towards the coast of Portugal; where they were to patrol when a Wellington on 179 Squadron attacked U-558 off Cape Rocaby. The submarine gunners drove off the attack and U-558 escaped by diving. Two days’ later the submarine was attacked again and damaged by a Liberator on 224 Squadron. On 20 July U-558 was sunk north-north-west of Cape Ortegal by depth charges dropped from Halifax DT642/E piloted by Flight Lieutenant G. Satwell DFC on 58 Squadron and those from a USAAF Liberator of the 19th Anti-Submarine Squadron piloted by 1st Lieutenant Charles F. Gallimeir from Fort Wayne, Indiana. U-558 was lost with 45 hands. Two officers and three crewmen were taken into captivity.

During the great battle with U-boats in the Bay of Biscay on Friday 30 July 1943 - subsequently officially described as ‘the greatest single victory of the war against U-boats’ - a formation of two ‘milch cow’ tanker submarines U-461 and U-462 with U-504, was annihilated by aircraft of Coastal Command and the US Navy and by sloops of the Royal Navy in a six-hour engagement. In an earlier engagement, on 21 June U-462 was damaged in an attack by Mosquito aircraft on 151 Squadron and 456 Squadron and sustained several causalities. On 2 July the submarine had been damaged again, this time by a Liberator on 224 Squadron. ¹¹⁴

Thirty-two-year old Korvettenkapitän Wolf Stiebler commanding U-461, recalled, ‘I received the order as the senior commander to escort U-462 and U-504 in convoy through the Bay of Biscay. We travelled in formation at various depths and surfaced only for charging the batteries. The signal to surface was given by me. On the third day, [30 July] U-462 did not surface and with batteries drained, it was necessary for the three of us to remain on the surface while U-462’s batteries were charged. Half an hour later the first plane was spotted and it wasn’t long before several were above us. On the horizon, three more destroyers (sic) appeared.’

The first sighting of the U-boats was credited to Liberator BZ730 ‘O for Orange’ on 53 Squadron piloted by Flying Officer W. J. Irving at 0945 hours when three large U-boats in V-formation were sighted on the surface moving at full speed. Irving did not attempt to attack, but climbed and transmitted his sighting report and began homing procedure. While a Catalina guided a group of naval sloops steaming at full speed towards the U-boat formation, first to arrive in response to the message was Sunderland JM679 ‘R for Robert’ on 228 Squadron from Pembroke Dock captained by Flying Officer Stan White who recalled circling out of range of the light AA fire from the U-bats. He sent an accurate sighting report giving the position and commenced homing procedure but was attacked by a Ju 88 thundering in from the east. White climbed hard for cloud but could not climb hard enough and to get away he had to jettison his depth charges. That was enough for the Junkers and it broke away. It had knocked the Sunderland out of the fight as effectively as shooting it down but other aircraft were heading towards the U-boat.

A PBY-4 Liberator of 19 Anti-Submarine Squadron, US Navy and soon afterwards Sunderland W6077 ‘U-Uncle’ on 461 Squadron and two Halifaxes on 502 Squadron piloted by Flying Officer A. van Rossum DFC - a Dutchman - and Flight Lieutenant Jenson and Flying Officer W. S. Biggar, arrived on the scene. W6077 was being flown by Flight Lieutenant Dudley ‘Dud’ Marrows DFC RAAF, born in Bendigo in 1917 and an accountant when the war began in Europe. ‘U-Uncle’ had been well south on patrol when the crew received a signal to divert to a position where a U-boat had been sighted. Marrows was more than interested in the U-boats below - firstly because he had never seen a U-boat before and secondly because the submarine on the port side of the formation was numbered ‘U-461’.

‘From wireless traffic’ Marrows recalled ‘it was obvious that aircraft were already there and reporting three subs. Pilot Officer Jimmy Leight, first pilot, sighted them through binoculars - three in tight formation. We were at the end of our outward endurance. When we got within ‘attack’ range aircraft were circling, the U-boats manoeuvring in formation, keeping bows-on to the aircraft and putting up a formidable barrage of cannon and machine-gun fire. From our height of 1,000 feet the RN sloops were not visible.’

The U-boats had made no attempt to submerge, but maintained close order, manoeuvring in tight S turns and keeping up extremely heavy and accurate AA fire. Jenson attacked first, taking his Halifax down to 1,600 feet and braving the cannon fire. On the run-up his Halifax was holed in the starboard elevator and its bombs overshot the target, but the front gunner saw his bullets straddle the enemy’s decks. A few minutes later van Rossum attacked the starboard U-boat (U-462, commanded by 23-year old Kapitänleutnant Bruno Vöwe) from dead astern, coming out of the sun. The Dutchman took his Halifax in low for a straight bomb run and then deliberately made three more runs from 3,000 feet; releasing one of his three special 600lb anti-submarine bombs on each of the latter runs. The 600lb depth bombs could be dropped at higher altitude than the depth charges and with the aid of the normal bomb sight. One of van Rossum’s bombs found its mark, close to U-462’s stern, crippling the submarine and causing it finally to stop. Dark smoke streamed from the conning tower as it broke out of the explosion plume and began circling slowly to starboard. Wolf Stiebler saw ‘people’ from U-462 ‘jumping into the water.’ One crewman was killed, the remainder of the crew being rescued by the Royal Navy. Stiebler was shocked. ‘Now it was more difficult as planes were flying from various directions. Two machines approached from different angles. I had only the quadruple guns and shot at a machine; the volley struck well as I saw the strikes using glasses.’ U-462 was the first U-boat to be sunk with the 600lb depth bomb.

Almost at the same time ‘Dud’ Marrows dropped one wing-tip and turned his Sunderland towards the U-boats. ‘A U-boat damaged isn’t a U-boat sunk’ he said. ‘Let’s see what we can do with it.’ But ‘his’ U-boat was still firing. It was just as hard as the others. Marrows roared in at 1,000 feet; only to quickly realise that the flak was just too fierce to offer any real chance of success this way. ‘Too hot’ he said and meant it like he had never meant anything before. He swung out of his run and circuited again, pondering how best to slip through the curtain of fire. Just then the American PBY-4 pilot came through to him on the R/T. ‘This stuff’s too thick for one aircraft. What we’ve got to do is divide the flak. Coming in with me?’ Both aircraft, 400 yards apart, started their attack runs. Undulating down towards the sea but again the U-boats promptly swung beam-on and put up yet another devastating hail of fire as hard as a brick wall. It was too much. Both pilots pulled away steeply and throttled back in the circuit to think again. It was now two and a quarter hours since the action first began and not one airctraft had penetrated the flak at low level. Now someone would have to attempt a head-on attack and then tackle the impossible - out-turn the U-boats - and, having failed to achieve the impossible, face alone the full flak from the U-boats’ beams.

This time Flying Officer W. J. Irving at the controls of ‘O for Orange’ led the attack, followed closely by the PBY-4 Liberator. Irving dived straight and true right down towards the sea and the U-boats, with smooth precision, again swung beam-on, as Irving had known that they would and hurled up their barrage round him and in front of him. He did not pull out; just continued his dive firing every gun he could bring to bear, while shells and shrapnel tore his aircraft to pieces. As he circled above Marrows watched and knew that the Englishman had given him a chance he would never get again. He rammed his four throttles against the gate and headed for U-461. The engines howled as he ran straight in. He got in to 1,000 yards without facing a bullet or a shell because the U-boat had been concentrating on the Liberator, which was so seriously damaged by flak that Irving had to break off the action and head for Portugal. At point blank range Marrows flew straight into the enemy fire, thundering down to the very surface of the sea itself. As the U-boat turned its guns on the Sunderland, Pearce in the flying boat’s nose turret suddenly got the line and the range and opened fire, killing the two loaders on the quad 20mm and severely wounding two officers. Marrows brought his aircraft down to fifty feet; so low that he almost hit the conning tower with his float and let go a stick of seven shallow-set depth charges in a line across and just forward of the U-boat’s superstructure. Then he ran straight through the fire of the other U-boat’s guns. A cannon shell hit the flying boat in the starboard wing, but, pulling back on his control column with every fibre of his being Marrows jinked and screwed his way up and out of the murderous crossfire, seeking calmer air. Behind him an immense eruption engulfed U-461 and as the plumes of water from the depth charges subsided, the U-boat surged forward and disappeared. He heard the voice of Jock Holland his second pilot say, ‘You got him’.

The PBY4 swung in on the far left side and now all the flak that was left switched to the Liberator. A shell burst in his bomb bay and the American crew should have been blasted out of the sky. The PBY4 streaked in, its gunners sweeping the decks clean but when the pilot tried to release his depth charges they would not drop. They stayed firmly stuck in their racks because the mechanism had been shot away.

Marrows, still wholly intent on his ‘kill’, reached height, turned as tightly as possible and headed back towards his chosen target. Tracers and shells still flaked around him, but below, he could see a brilliant red-orange pool of oil, wreckage and scum, with U-461’s surviving crew members dazedly, frantically trying to grab anything which floated. Fifty-three hands were lost when Stiebler’s U-boat went down. Marrows took in the whole scene in a second and then swept over the survivors fast and low. They took photographs and dropped a dinghy near to the struggling sailors the crew could now see swimming in the water. One of them was Wolf Stiebler. He stated that there was ‘an almighty explosion, after which I thought the boat, had been blown apart. I was dragged into the depths and then there was a jerk and I shot to the surface. We were drifting; on my command we tried to stay together. The depth charges of the destroyer against the surfaced U-504 were hellish torture. After a short time a dinghy was thrown to us by Dudley Marrows. There were still eleven of us; the injured got into the dinghy, the others held on tightly outside. Later the Woodpecker took us on. I was put in an officer’s cabin and treated very well; a guard in front of the door watched over me. Before leaving I was able to thank the English commander for taking us on board.’¹¹⁵

U-504 commanded by 35-year old Wilhelm Luis, the only surviving U-boat, still undamaged, was now heading for the open Atlantic, so Marrows turned towards it, intent on using his last shot as effectively as possible. North-west of Cape Ortegal the sky around him suddenly filled with flak; thick, almost impenetrable. Marrows couldn’t believe that one U-boat could throw up so much flak and then he realised that he was in the middle of a sea battle. The 2nd Escort Group, summoned by the Catalina, had arrived on the scene and the sloops Woodpecker, Kite, Wren and Wild Goose were pouring shells at the U-502, which was lost with all 53 hands. Marrows abandoned his intended attack and climbed into clear air. He watched L/461 (W6050), another Sunderland on the scene later, which returned to base after 13 hours aloft, with Flying Officer J. B. Nicholls the captain and Flight Sergeant R. E. Pollock, 2nd wireless operator, having both counted 50 U-boat survivors in the water as a result of this black day for the German Navy. W6050 put down marine markers on the locations of the wreckage of the two sunken U-boats and then flew over the RN Escort Group, signalling the news of the sinkings and the positions of the surviving German crew members.

‘Next stop, home’, Marrows said cheerfully to his crew, only to receive the calm voice of his engineer, ‘We haven’t enough petrol to reach home, skipper.’

With little alternative, Marrows set course for the Scilly Isles, the southernmost tip of the British Isles. Then Marrows almost jumped in his seat as the voice of his nose gunner yelled, ‘U-boat on starboard bow!’

‘Forty degrees starboard, one and a half miles!’

Marrows couldn’t believe it; a year without sighting a single U-boat, they had now seen four on a single patrol! ‘I’m going straight in! Get that depth charge out!’ he announced.

Diving straight down from 2,000 feet, Marrows closed on the U-boat at 1,000 yards and the front guns opened up, spraying the submarine’s decks. The German crew manned the flak guns on deck and began pumping shells at the Sunderland as it loomed large.

A shell burst near the wing root and the bomb rack began to burn. Marrows prepared to set his controls for a fast pull-out once over his target as the flying-boat continued downwards with Marrows fighting the controls, his feet against the dials, exerting every ounce of muscle power in his attempt to bring the Sunderland out of its dive. The Sunderland’s nose inched up, reluctantly and swept over the U-boat so low that the German gunners ducked their heads.

Pushing the bomb release button, Marrows got no response - the bomb gear traversing motor had seized and was on fire. As the engineer dowsed the small fire Marrows and Jimmy Leight his first pilot fought to get their aircraft into a climb and finally succeeded. It was the last straw for Marrows. With dud bomb gear, little petrol and now (apparently) flak-damaged controls, he decided that it was time to go home. As he checked around his cockpit he then realised that he had accidentally engaged ‘George’, the automatic pilot, his sleeve operating the lever, during the hasty action against his last target. With a sigh of relief, he returned the controls to ‘manual’ and finally, he landed in the channel outside St Mary’s in the Scillies. The petrol tanks were to all intents dry by the time he cut the engines. Survivors from two of the U-boats were taken prisoner and brought back to England. Flight Lieutenant Marrows was awarded the DFC.

On 1 August another Australian ‘kill’ was recorded; again it was an instance of a daring attack made through heavy fire. Sunderland W4020 ‘B for Baker’ on 10 Squadron captained by Flying Officer Lieutenant K. G. Fry was on patrol above the Bay of Biscay flying at 1,700 feet over tumultuous seas beneath a cloudy sky. About 1630 hours her look-outs saw five sloops and a Catalina engaged in a U-boat hunt’. Fry decided to take a hand and had just altered course to do so when he sighted a U-boat two miles away on the starboard bow. The submarine - it was U-454 commanded by 33-year old Kapitänleutnant Burkhard Hackländer - was six miles from the nearest sloop and was moving on the surface at a speed of about ten knots. By coincidence, Flight Lieutenant J. B. Jewell DFC RAAF, 10 Squadron’s navigation officer, was on exchange duty with the naval vessels engaged in the battle and watched from the pitching, deck of a sloop as the Sunderland from his squadron dived to the attack. Jewell was spending fourteen days’ exchange duty on HMS Wren (Lieutenant-Commander R. M. Aubury RN). He recalled:

‘About 8.30 the fun really started. What a terrific day! A Sunderland and a Catalina were around and they signalled that no less than three U-boats were on the surface about ten miles away ahead. The Senior Naval Officer on Kite made the signal ‘General Chase’. Off we went at full speed, line abreast - a grand sight - smooth blue sea and blue sky - all ratings and officers at action stations. Soon we saw the aircraft circling low and diving to drop depth charges. Two of the U-boats were visible by this time and the Sunderland dropped a couple of depth charges plumb on either side of the conning tower of one of them. That broke the U-boat’s back and he disappeared pretty quickly, leaving some survivors and a raft in the water. Simultaneously, all our ships had opened fire with 4-inch on the second U-boat. He, too, left survivors who had to wait until U-boat No.3 had been located and dealt with. Not unnaturally, No.3 dived in some haste and we were now set the task of finding him beneath the surface. It was like great cats stalking an oversized mouse. Kite found him first and dropped a pattern of depth charges. Then Woodpecker set about him and dropped depth charges. Kite got a ‘fix’ and with his direction we proceeded to lay a ‘plaster’, which is rather what the name denotes. Wild Goose repeated the dose, but while she was doing so the first patches of oil were observed and soon it was coming up in great quantities - the sea stank of it. Wood and other wreckage came up too. This was about 3.30 pm. We recovered various things. Wren found some German clothing. The evidence was decisive and the ships (which had been shielding one another during the action) reformed and made off to pick up survivors. We picked up seventeen, including the captain and 1st officer. The other ships picked up a further fifty or so altogether. Ours were in or clinging to a rubber float, shaped like a big rubber ring. Some were injured. One had a bullet in his stomach and a broken ankle. They were mostly shaking with cold and/or reaction from their experience. Several of them were truculent. Some had never been in a U-boat before - possibly never to sea before.’

‘B for Baker’ made a tight turn and attacked from the U-boat’s starboard quarter at an angle of sixty degrees from her track. During the run in, that most perilous of moments - for if the depth charges were to be accurately dropped it was necessary to fly straight and level - Fry came under heavy fire from the 20-mm cannon on the bridge. The enemy fire was returned by the Sunderland’s forward gunner, but soon the flying boat was in trouble. First the aircraft’s inner engine was hit and then, when the Sunderland was about 400 yards away, a hit in the starboard main fuel tank caused petrol to pour into the cockpit in which sat the captain and his two co-pilots, all three of whom were by then seriously wounded. Despite the petrol and the pain, they flew on and from a height of fifty feet dropped six depth charges set to shallow depth and spaced at 60 feet of which three fell on one side and three on the other of the target. The foam and spray of the explosions had scarcely melted when the rear gunner ‘saw the U-boat lift out of the water and then sink by the bows’. ‘B for Baker’ was also mortally wounded. Fry maintained course for the sloops but after about six miles, he turned 180 degrees to port and set the Sunderland down before he reached them. Jewell and other watchers saw the Sunderland alight on fifteen-foot waves, bounce from one wave to another and then dive into the water and then begin to settle. The sloops sped for the scene. When the Wren arrived, all that still floated was a stump of the mainplane. Five of the crew were on it, others were in the water. One was swimming with a broken ankle about 400 yards away from the wreckage. It was too rough to launch a lifeboat, although oil was pumped on to the water to calm it and the captain had to use a lifebelt to pick up the injured swimmer and then manoeuvre alongside the wreckage to enable the other survivors to climb aboard - ‘my if it isn’t Johnny Jewell!’ said one of the survivors as he came aboard. Only at this moment did Jewell realize the Sunderland was from his own squadron. Six Australians lost their lives in the crash. U-454 was lost with 32 hands. Hackländer and twelve other survivors were rescued by HMS Kite.

On 1 August also Flying Officer S. White DFC on 228 Squadron flying JM678/V departed at 1450 on a Musketry patrol and while tasked to search for a dinghy came across a U-boat west of Brest. It was U-383 commanded by 36-year old Korvettenkapitän Horst Kremser, which was on its fourth war cruise, having left Brest on 27 July. At 2013 hours JM678/V lost height and began an attack from up sun. U-383 put up very rapid fire and the aircraft took violent evasive action and thus failed to track over the target. During the approach the gunners opened up accurate return fire and two of the German crew were seen to fall. The Sunderland then turned to port and ceased fire. When the flying-boat was 600 yards away the enemy again opened very accurate fire which carried away the starboard float and put the starboard aileron out of action. The hull was holed in several places and a shell exploded in the port mainplane. There were, however, no casualties on the Sunderland. The attack was delivered from U-383’s starboard quarter at 15 degrees to track; seven depth charges, set to shallow depth, spaced at 60 feet, were dropped from 75 feet. The depth charges straddled the target just abaft the conning tower and U-383 was completely enveloped in spray. When the plumes subsided U-383 had a bad list to port and was turning sharply. The Sunderland left the scene immediately, as the damage to the lateral control prevented it from turning. U-383 transmitted a distress signal to which three torpedo boats responded. The U-boat must have foundered during the night with the loss of all 52 hands and the torpedo boats rescued survivors from U-106 who they found nearby. ¹¹⁶

U-106, commanded by 24-year old Oberleutnant zur see Wolf-Dietrich Wolf Dietrich Damerow, sailed from Lorient in company with U-107, which planted a minefield in American waters. On the fifth day out, 1 August, Damerow reported that he had repelled an aircraft, but that it or another was shadowing the boat, doubtless calling in other planes. The shadower was a Wellington on 407 ‘Demon’ Squadron RCAF piloted by a RAF officer, J. C. Archer who had dropped six depth charges and had indeed given the alarm.

In company with N/228 of 228 Squadron, he found U-106 surfaced at 2015 hours,

It says much for the stamina of airmen and aircraft alike, when it is realised that many such operations covered in excess of 13 hours airborne by day and night, most of this over the lonely expanses of the Bay of Biscay and the Atlantic. Rescue, in the event of being forced down, was a remote possibility. Mostly the air war at sea was a dull, monotonous life, seeking out U-boats which seldom appeared; being on the alert for the one chance in a hundred when all the months of training could be put to good use in a hectic few moments of battle. The moment for Flight Lieutenant Irwin A. F. ‘Chick’ Clarke DFC piloting Sunderland DV968/M on 461 Squadron RAAF came on 2 August. Clarke engaged three German destroyers, having shadowed the ships until just after 2000 hours. Then, at 20.05 hours northwest of Ortegal he was startled by a frantic message from the first pilot: ‘Captain, there is a U-boat 1½ miles, 10 degrees starboard and it’s a whopper.’ It was U-106; a 740-tonner, painted light grey, spick and span, new and full of power. It was on the surface and moving fast. The sea was calm with a moderate swell. Clarke grasped for his throttles and dropped like a brick. He went down as steeply as he could manage in a tight circular dive, rushed his depth charges out and selected seven and fused them.

Another Sunderland, JM708/N on 228 Squadron captained by Flying Officer ‘Hank’ Hanbury, who had been awarded the DFC for sinking U-607 on 15 July, came in from the south-west and swung in behind Clarke. The two Sunderlands raced round the circuit, just outside the bursting flak and then, while Clarke turned in for his first attack, Hanbury covered him with his guns. U-106 took violent evasive action and tried to keep the Sunderland on her beam. Considerable flak was experienced but the Sunderland’s front gun kept spraying the enemy’s decks and the hapless Germans lay on the decks like felled skittles and slid over the sides and into the sea. They floated on the surface like dead goldfish in a film of blood. Most of them were disintegrated, or pulped out of human shape. Some, who must have been on edge of the explosion, were split open from chin to crutch as neatly gutted as any herring. Just before the depth charges attack the aircraft’s front gun fire was so accurate that it prevented the relief crew from manning U-106’s guns. Clarke delivered his attack from the U-boat’s port bow at 80 degrees to the track while the U-boat was still on the surface and turning to starboard. The depth charges straddled the target, the centre of the explosions being just abaft the conning tower. At the moment of the attack the U-boat was still turning to starboard and in doing so she presented her starboard quarter to the waiting N/228.

Before the plumes of the first attack had subsided, Hanbury ran in and dropped another seven depth charges. This attack was made only 30 seconds after the first and also resulted in a straddle. The U-boat vanished within a gigantic eruption of foam and spray and thundering noise, but it came through, long nose thrusting out of it in a sea of boiling scum, shedding its crew man by man as they hastened up through the hatch and sprang overboard. After the attacks U-106 stopped and began to settle by the stern. Black smoke, white smoke and oil were pouring from her. The crew rushed out of the conning tower and began to jump into the sea. Some, however, attempted to man the guns again, but were mowed down by the concentrated fire from the two Sunderlands. Forty minutes later U-106 blew up as the demolition charges went off. The middle of the boat was punched ruight out of it and water and smoke shot skywards like a depth charge plume. The stern vanished, the bows stood up straight and then, foot by foot, passed down into the sea with 25 hands. Thirty-seven men were rescued by the torpedo boats searching for the survivors of U-383. Wolf Dietrich Damerow died of his wounds on 21 May 1945.

South of Iceland on 3 August Hudson ‘J’ on 269 Squadron flown by E. L. J. Brame found U-489, commanded by 33-year old Korvettenkapitän Adelbert Schmandt which was on its first war cruise, having left Kiel on 22 July. Brame carried out two attacks with 100lb ASW bombs as the U-boat returned fire from its quad 20mm and other flak guns. The first bomb missed, but the second fell close. When a B-17 and a Catalina appeared Schmandt dived 656 feet and escaped but the single bomb had caused a leak of seawater into the after battery, posing the possibility of chlorine gas. Schmandt surfaced and the leak was fixed, but patrolling warships closed in on the submarine and dropped depth charges. Though none fell close Schmandt was forced to remain submerged until her batteries were exhausted. ¹¹⁷

U-489 was forced to surface the next morning when Sunderland DD859/G captained by Flying Officer A. A. Bishop on 423 Squadron RCAF, who was on patrol in the North-West Passage sighted the hated grey hull of the surfaced U-boat. Bishop, son of the Canadian World War I ace, Billy Bishop, immediately lost height to deliver an attack. He had closed to within one mile when it became apparent that U-489 was not attempting to dive. Bishop therefore decided to manoeuvre for position in order to deliver an attack from dead ahead, but U-489 circled in such a way as always to present her stern to the aircraft. Smoke puffs were seen coming from the U-boat’s guns but no bursts were seen and no hits felt on the aircraft. When Bishop decided that he could not outmanoeuvre the U-boat, he flew to a position about one mile up sun of it and turned in to attack at about 300 feet. Fire was opened at the correct time - 1,200 yards with the 0.5 in guns in the nose - and an undulating approach made. The bullets were seen falling very close to the conning tower after the first few rounds. At 500 yards the flying-boat levelled out at 50 feet and flew straight in, opening up with the 0.303 guns in the front turret. At that moment the aircraft began to be hit by U-489’s flak. At 300 yards the Sunderland was seriously hit near the port wing root by a lucky shot from the U-boat’s 4.7 inch gun. Although this damaged the aircraft’s controls and the flak increased in intensity, Bishop pressed home the attack and released six accurate shallow-set depth charges. By this time a violent fire was raging in the wing root and the galley of the Sunderland and the ailerons and trimming-tab controls had become useless. The outer engine controls were also out of action, so Bishop switched off those engines and made a forced alighting. The aircraft bounced three times and the port wing dropped. The wing tip hit the water caused the aircraft to swerve violently to port and nose in. Six of the eleven members of the crew managed to get clear of the aircraft, which was then burning furiously. After about four minutes it sank.

When three British destroyers, including HMS Castleton and HMS Orwell, appeared, Schmandt ordered his crew to abandon ship and scuttle. U-489 approached the scene of the crashed Sunderland and after fifteen minutes was within 200 yards. The crew were standing on the forward deck taking to their raft. U-489 continued to sink. Scuttling charges were then fired and the U-boat disappeared. Twenty minutes later the Castleton picked up Schmandt and the other fifty-three members of the crew, including the chief engineer, who later died aboard the Castleton, plus three Luftwaffe airmen who had been shot down by a Beaufighter on 29 July and had been rescued by U-489. The Castleton then picked up Bishop and five of his aircrew who were less than one hundred yards away, swimming in the water. Bishop later was awarded the DFC.

A fortnight after his DFC was gazetted Flight Lieutenant ‘Dud’ Marrows was awarded the DSO for a gallant fight with six Ju 88s in the approaches to the Bay. It was a dramatic story. It happened during a patrol on 16 September 1943 on what was to have been Marrows’ ultimate operational sortie on 461 Squadron prior to being returned to Australia. Soon after 3pm, P. T. Jensen the tail gunner reported six enemy aircraft approaching on the starboard quarter about fifteen miles away. Marrows headed for the nearest cloud cover thirty miles away, but the enemy aircraft came up too fast. They formed up for attack, four of them in a stepped-up echelon-on the starboard bow and two on the port quarter. The Sunderland jettisoned its depth charges and prepared to fight. The leading Ju 88 took little part in the combat, which its pilot apparently directed. The second Ju 88 on the starboard bow opened the combat. The Sunderland began corkscrewing as the other aircraft attacked simultaneously from port and starboard. During the attack the tail turret hydraulics were severed and only one gun in the mid-upper turret was left in action. The enemy re-formed and made a second combined attack, then a third from a different quarter. Half the formation attacked from one beam and broke away whenever the Australian aircraft returned the fire, while the other half attacked from the other beam. The Sunderland’s port engines were hit, the tail turret hydraulics were severed and only one gun in the mid-upper turret remained in action. When the enemy realized that the tail turret was out of action - although Jensen courageously tried to operate it by hand in the face of intense fire - they concentrated on attacks from astern and from the quarters.

A. N. Pearce amidships and P. R. Criddle in the nose continued to fire and one Junkers was hit. It retired from the fray with its starboard motor smoking and the gunners saw their bullets hit at least three other enemy aircraft. Then a burst of cannon fire disabled the Sunderland’s starboard outer motor and with only one engine still working Marrows had to put the Sunderland down in the sea. There the Sunderland crew launched three dinghies, stowing as much equipment as possible into them. The aircraft was abandoned, taking in water rapidly through numerous holes in its hull. Soon after leaving the aircraft two of the dinghies burst. Apparently they had been hit and the entire crew of eleven, together with what equipment could be saved, huddled into the remaining one. The crew decided that as rescue might be delayed they would conserve their emergency rations by going without food for the first forty-eight hours afloat and they set about making themselves comfortable for the night.

At three o’clock next morning they heard an aircraft overhead and they fired a Very cartridge and lit torches. The aircraft circled and made a run-up, turning its landing lights on the men in the dinghy. The aircraft, a Leigh Light Catalina, circled above the men dropping marker flares to maintain position until, just after dawn, it signalled: ‘I go - help coming-good luck.’ Scarcely five minutes’ later a Liberator - and naval sloops appeared and the men were picked up. It was the same 2nd Destroyer Group which had finished off the action of 30 July and its commander Captain Frederick J. ‘Johnny’ Walker CB DSO presented Dudley Marrows with the life-jacket and escape gear worn by Korvettenkapitän Stiebler, commander of Marrow’s victim, U-461. Several weeks later Flight Lieutenant Dudley Marrows DSO DFC RAAF went back to Australia, saw further service on 40 Squadron RAAF and survived the war.

October 1943 was a comparatively quiet month for the aircrews of Nos 10 and 461 Squadrons. Despite a collective total of 1,058 hours flown over the Bay of Biscay, no enemy sightings were reported by either unit. On 28 October on D/461 (EK577) Flying Officer J. B. Nicholls DFC the captain and Flight Sergeant R. E. Pollock, 2nd wireless operator had an unhappy time, together with the rest of the crew, when the port outer engine of ‘D-Dog’ went unserviceable during an antisubmarine patrol. Adding to the excitement, the navigator made a slight miscalculation in his DR, so that the Sunderland crossed the French coast at Brest! Amazingly, they returned to Pembroke Dock without further event. However, on 8 October Flying Officer Alfred H. Russell DFC on 423 Squadron RCAF flying Sunderland DD863 ‘J-Johnnie’ on convoy escort 480 miles SSW of Iceland had attacked U-610 commanded by 27-year old Kapitänleutnant Walter von Freyberg-Eisenberg-Allmendingen who earlier had sank the Polish destroyer Orlan. In his initial attack Russell toggled four depth charges but only three fell. These closely straddled the U-boat near the conning tower, which, Russell said ‘lifted fifteen to twenty feet’. When the foam and swirl of the explosions subsided, Russell saw ‘fifteen’ Germans in the water swimming amid oil and wreckage. All 51 hands perished. ¹¹⁸

On 9 November Flying Officer J. S. B. Dobson’s Sunderland on 461 Squadron was attacked by four Ju 88s a total of nine times without result. Sunderlands on 461 Squadron were also fitted with armour plating by now, making the ‘flying porcupine’ an even tougher proposition for the Luftwaffe and in this instance the added protection probably helped to save the day. Flight Lieutenant C. C. Clark had been on patrol for nine hours on 30 November when his boat came under a determined attack from six Ju 88s. Attacking from an almost cloudless sky, the enemy attackers wounded the Australian pilot and two of his gunners, shot away three of the throttle linkages and caused other damage, obliging Clark to head for a friendly cloud bank 20 miles distant for some form of cover. In the 20 minutes it took him to reach this haven, the Ju88s attacked repeatedly, but two of their number were damaged in the process. Wounded, and with his fuel supply dwindling rapidly, the pilot struggled to keep his machine airborne as he headed for home, finally alighting on the water a few miles short of base to travel the remaining distance under tow to Plymouth. It was almost a squadron tradition that if a Sunderland could be kept aloft or afloat by any means, it would be brought back to fight another day; even under tow!

Bad weather prevailed for the remainder of 1943, particularly over the Bay of Biscay, hampering Sunderland operations to a great extent. Bombing and gunnery practices, air-to-air firing and local flying became almost the daily norm, with one successful operation helping to round off the year, in spite of the elements. During the course of an Atlantic patrol which lasted for 13 hours 40 minutes on 28 December D/461 (EK577), now flown by Flight Lieutenant J. Newton, was attacked by a Focke-Wulf 200K, the action being broken off in cloud. A message was flashed from the Sunderland, giving the enemy aircraft’s height, speed and course and based on this, the FW 200 was soon intercepted and shot down by an RAF Mosquito. Opening the squadron’s account for 1944, Newton took off from Pembroke Dock on New Year’s Day in Y/461 (JM686) for a lengthy antisubmarine patrol over the Bay of Biscay, spending nine hours 30 minutes airborne by day and a further six hours 10 minutes at night on the one mission. Attacked by an aircraft which was initially unidentified, the Sunderland’s gunners returned the fire promptly. In a second pass they poured a withering hail of lead into what had now been clearly identified as being a Ju 88. Acting on information received, the operations room later credited the gunners of Y/461 with having probably destroyed this Junkers - a conservative credit since the lone Ju88 was crippled well out to sea.

A modest little ceremony marked the close of the fourth year of war for the submarine hunters of 10 Squadron. ‘Eleven officers and men’ was the toast of the evening; they were the remaining eleven of those 163 ‘originals’ who, on Christmas Eve 1939 steamed gloomily into Cherbourg Station on their way to Britain. The Australian Sunderlands went on to destroy five U-boats - and their last - in the first eight months of 1944. 10 Squadron sank one on 8 January (Flying Officer J. P. Roberts captained the aircraft) and another on 8 July (Flying Officer William Boris Tilley). 461 Squadron’s ‘kills’ were on 28 January (Flight Lieutenant Richard D. Lucas), 11 August (Pilot Officer Ivan F. Southall) and 13 August (Flying Officer Donald A. Little). All the captains were awarded DFCs.

Late in 1943 the Sunderland squadrons endured possible replacement by the Martin Mariner but by December four of these aircraft which had been delivered to 524 Squadron at Oban for evaluation were gone and the squadron disbanded. It had been decided that the Mariner was inferior in endurance and carrying capacity to the Sunderland. As 1944 approached, the Air Ministry called for more trained crews to fly Sunderlands. In January 228 Squadron lost three Sunderlands in the Bay of Biscay. On 8 January Flying Officer J. P. Roberts on 10 Squadron RAAF at Mount Batten flying Sunderland EK586/U sank U-426 commanded by Christian Reich which was on only its second war cruise, having left Brest on 3 January for operations in the North Atlantic. Roberts released six depth charges and the forward machine guns opened at 1,200 yards, strafing the U-boat and killing or wounding all the German gunners before the U-boat was destroyed ‘at leisure’. Approximately forty survivors were seen in the water but none of the 51 man crew were rescued. The Australian squadron was the first to fit four additional .303 inch machine guns in the noses of their Sunderlands and other squadrons soon followed suit.

It was on 8 January that U-571 commanded by 26-year old Gustav Lüssow left La Pallice on its tenth war cruise and headed for the North Atlantic. On 28 January, while escorting Slow Convoy 151 and Outbound North 221 180 miles west of the mouth of the River Shannon, U-571 was bombed by Flight Lieutenant Richard D. Lucas flying Sunderland EK557/D on 461 Squadron RAAF airborne from Pembroke Dock. At 3,000 yards range the U-boat opened fire with cannon and machine-guns. During violent evasive action Colin Bremner the navigator fell over and was knocked out. At 1,000 yards Flight Sergeant Simmonds in the nose position opened fire with his two .303 Brownings effectively knocking out the U-boat’s gunners. In two runs into heavy flak, Lucas dropped two salvoes of depth-charges. In the first attack Lucas and Flying Officer Prentice in the 2nd pilot’s seat released four DCs. U-571 turned sharply to port and the nearest DC fell thirty yards abeam. In the second attack two DCs released straddled the U-boat and while the Sunderland circled, Bremner recovered enough to use his camera in the port galley hatch. At the instant he released the shutter; U-571 blew up in a ‘huge explosion’. In a signal to base Lucas reported seeing thirty-seven crewmen swimming. The Sunderland crew surveyed the scene and realising the enemy was without dinghies, released one of their own. Another Sunderland on 461 Squadron reached the area (the U-boat sank about 300 miles south-west of Fastnet) and also dropped a dinghy but none of the 52 hands could save themselves. ¹¹⁹ Lucas was awarded the DFC and later served with Qantas Airways. The RAF front gunner, Flight Sergeant Simmonds, was awarded the DFM.

U-546 commanded by Paul Just had left Kiel on a mission to report the weather on 22 January and on 16 February it was attacked by an unidentified Sunderland which killed a gunner and caused diesel-engine damage. Just was able to effect his own repairs and he continued with the mission. Before returning to Lorient on 23 April his gunners shot down Halifax ‘H-Harry’ on 53 Squadron and also survived three more air attacks on the 17th when his gunners claimed a Mosquito shot down. ¹²⁰

Tales of the Sunderland’s ability to survive against enemy aircraft attacks are legion. On 15 February 1944 Flight Lieutenant J. McCulloch on 10 Squadron RAAF was on patrol in Sunderland EK574/Q over the Bay of Biscay at 1,500 feet when a formation of twelve Ju 88s was spotted about five miles distant. McCulloch at once turned 180 degrees to port to reach cloud cover seven miles away. When he came out of this turn he saw two other formations of four Ju 88s each, one of these formations, however, did not join in the attack. The twelve Ju 88s, now on ‘Q’s’ port bow, split into three sections of four and the individual aircraft formed line abreast while the formation of four on the starboard side went in to line astern. All the enemy aircraft were then flying at the same height as the Sunderland, which increased speed and held course until the enemy opened fire. The large formation attacked from 70 degrees on the port bow; at least eight of them and possibly the whole twelve began firing simultaneously at 500 yards and persisted to within 100 yards. McCulloch immediately made a climbing turn to port and passed over the formation, which had apparently expected the Sunderland to dive as most of their fire went low. At the same time the four Ju 88s attacked from the starboard quarter, but were balked by the others and did not score any hits. During the attack the nose gunner fired at one of the aircraft in the leading formation and saw tracer enter the cockpit; he also got in a burst at the leading Ju 88 of the first section and estimated hits. Only very slight damage was done to the Sunderland, but a stray bullet killed Flight Sergeant G. S. Mills the tail gunner outright. McCulloch turned to starboard again and reached cloud cover before a new attack could develop. Quick action on the part of the captain and good training all round undoubtedly saved the Sunderland and her crew from destruction by overwhelming odds. McCulloch later went to London with his navigator to record a broadcast for Australia.

Between January and March 1944 of 3,360 merchant ships in 105 convoys only three had been sunk, whereas 29 U-boats had been lost and six more damaged. En route to its patrol area on 10 March to escort Convoy SC.154, 380 miles west of the mouth of the River Shannon, Sunderland EK59l/U on 422 Squadron RCAF flown by Warrant Officer W. F. Morton, who was on his first operational sortie as captain, spotted a U-boat on the surface. It was U-625 commanded by 25-year old Siegfried Straub. This submarine was a standard 517-tonner without the forward gun and carried two twin 20mm mountings on the upper platform and one on the lower, the latter being well shielded. The gunners of U-625 and U-741 had just shot down Wellington HF311 flown by Pilot Officer E. M. O’Donnell on 407 ‘Demon’ Squadron RCAF. ¹²¹ Flight Lieutenant Sidney W. Butler DFC, who was along as check pilot, was at the controls at the time. He immediately manoeuvred to attack U-625, reducing height to 400 feet and the range to one mile. U-625, however, sighted the flying-boat as it turned and the German crew opened fire at about five miles. Not unnaturally the fire was well short and it dropped about half way between the aircraft and the enemy submarine. U-625 also began to zigzag hard, but when the Sunderland was about a mile away Straub turned sharply to port and circled in order to keep stern on to the aircraft.

Meanwhile, the Sunderland avoided flak by frequent alterations of height and course and circled in an attempt to attack from the bow. It was soon evident that this was impossible and when the Sunderland was 1,000 yards away on U-625’s starboard beam, Butler dived in to attack from the quarter. The last 400 yards of the run-in was made at 50 feet and the enemy put up intense flak, one shell hitting the Sunderland’s hull below the waterline. The flying-boat’s front guns replied to such effect that in the end only one enemy gunner appeared to be serviceable. The attack was made from the U-boat’s starboard quarter and six depth charges spaced at 60 feet were released while U-625 was still surfaced. The depth charges straddled the conning tower, one being seen to enter the water on the starboard side and three to port just abaft the conning tower. Three minutes after the attack U-625 submerged but resurfaced after another three minutes. She was then moving very slowly leaving a heavy oil trace and turning to starboard. An hour and a half later Straub signalled by V/S ‘Fine bombfish’ and the crew abandoned ship. Ten minutes later U-625 sank by the stern leaving her crew in numerous small dinghies and one big one but none were rescued and all 53 hands perished. The Sunderland crew were able to repair their damaged hull and the aircraft alighted safely at its base.

From March onwards U-boats would never pose any serious threat to the passage of convoys across the Atlantic again. Luftwaffe aircraft however, were still a serious proposition. On 23 March two Sunderlands on 461 Squadron were attacked by Luftwaffe aircraft while on patrol over the Bay of Biscay. Sunderland ‘M’ captained by F. H. ‘Tim’ Bunce was engaged by nine Ju 88s, the enemy tactics being a similar series of attacks by pairs of aircraft, although in this case the genuine attacks came in from the starboard side. In a series of attacks various hits were made on the Sunderland and as the aircraft was getting ready to meet yet another attack the fire controller called that one of the port fuel tanks was on fire: Bunce decided that he would have to ditch and ordered everyone to take up ditching stations. All the turrets except one were vacated, but D. W. Duke the mid-upper gunner continued to fire at the enemy until ‘M’ actually touched the water. Bunce tried to land across wind along the swell, but there was too much drift. He therefore turned into wind and at the last moment turned back along the swell, thus cutting out most of the drift. The aircraft was thrown off the crest of the first wave, went down into the trough and bounced again. Bunce tried to gain a little more speed, but the port inner motor had become unserviceable and, through lack of flying speed, the Sunderland hit the next wave half way up. The tail turret was knocked off and the aircraft sank within two minutes. One member of the crew went down with the aircraft and four of the others drowned. The first pilot, O. L. I. Howard and the second pilot were last seen clinging to the starboard inner propeller before a wave of great violence smashed over the mainplane and swept the two men overboard. They vanished in the swirl. Not a man saw a sign of them again. The other two jumped into the water, but owing to the heavy seas and strong wind it was impossible to reach them with the dinghies and they were not seen again. Bunce, M. G. J. Fuller, navigator, R. N. Thompson, rear gunner, D. W. Duke and the three other men got away in two dinghies and were picked up fifty hours later by the RN destroyer HMS Saladin. During the hours of daylight on the 24th and 25th, aircraft kept constant cover over the dinghies. ¹²²

Further west Sunderland ‘F’ captained by H. M. Godsall had intercepted the radio flash from Bunce’s aircraft but the wireless operator confused his codes and transmitted a U-boat sighting report. Godsall turned in and increased speed to investigate. He came in on a due easterly heading through a clear blue sky. He was just as naked in a cloudless world as Bunce had been and flew straight into four Ju 88s which were first sighted three to four miles away on the port bow at 2,000 feet. Godsall jettisoned its depth charges and lost height to 1,000 feet. The 88s turned towards the Sunderland and flew up abreast, two on either side. Both aircraft on the port beam closed to 200 yards, turned in to attack and opened fire. The Sunderland turned sharply to port to meet this attack and began to corkscrew. The 88s broke off at 600 yards and about 800 feet above the Sunderland, the tail gunner of which fired a long burst at one of them as it passed astern. The two aircraft on the starboard side did not attack, so the fire controller instructed Godsall to cease corkscrewing and resume course. The second attack opened in much the same way as the first, two 88s taking station on each beam. The starboard pair made a dummy attack but broke off at about 1,000 feet above the Sunderland. Fortunately, the controller was not drawn by this manoeuvre and the genuine attack from the port side was countered by a steep diving turn to port. By then the starboard outer engine had stopped, as a fuel supply line had been cut during the first attack. The Germans made four more similar attacks before they finally gave up the battle. Godsall took the same evasive action every time, ignoring the dummy attacks from starboard and countering the real attacks from port with steep diving turns into each attack. Only the first attack did any damage to ‘F’. The Sunderland was hit and damaged in the first assault and fought most of the action on three engines. Excellent team work was chiefly responsible for the safe return of the aircraft from this combat. The navigator, who acted as fire controller, was always ready with the right instructions and Godsall handled the aircraft skilfully and the gunners kept the enemy at a distance with accurate shooting. Godsall did not know that Bunce and his crew were missing until he returned to base. ¹²³

Now led by Wing Commander J. MacL. Hampshire DFC, brother of the famous ace and leader of 456 Fighter Squadron, 461 Squadron began to use Mk VI radar equipment during 1944, adding 1.7 inch flares to the inventory for use in night attacks. As the war progressed, so did the unit’s equipment, in the never-ending battle against the U-boat menace.

Shortly after midnight on 24 April a Leigh Light-equipped Liberator on 120 Squadron piloted by L. T. Taylor found U-672 on radar in the Bay of Biscay. The boat, which was commanded by 27-year old Oberleutnant zur see Ulf Lawaetz, was planting ‘Thetis’ radar decoys at the time. Taylor attacked using the Leigh Light, dropping six depth charges that fell wide.

About twelve hours later, during the afternoon, at 1530, Flight Lieutenant F. G. Fellows RCAF, the captain on Sunderland DD862/A on 423 Squadron was engaged in a creeping-line-ahead search for U-boats. Visibility, for a change, was unlimited and Fellows spotted what he thought was a wake. Increasing speed to 140 knots, while his second pilot trained his binoculars on the spot and confirmed that it was a U-boat, Fellows soon made out the definite shape of a surfaced submarine about 16 miles dead ahead. They had picked up the U-672. The U-boat’s conning tower had two bandstands both of which contained guns. Fellows held his course and height for about eight miles and manoeuvred until he was five miles on the U-boat’s beam. At five miles range the U-boat evidently spotted Fellows’ Sunderland and, instead of crash-diving, began evasive manoeuvring attempting to keep its stern towards the approaching flying boat and meanwhile bringing into play its flak guns. U-672 turned hard to starboard in order to keep stern on to the aircraft and opened fire with medium flak which exploded with white puffs. The fire was accurate for line but fell short by three miles. The rate of fire and the fact that the bursts were in clusters of six or seven suggest that the enemy was using a gun of the Bofors type.

Following each manoeuvre of the U-boat, Fellows eventually got to a position up-sun and when the U-boat slackened her rate of turn the Sunderland bore in on a straight attack run. At 1,200 yards the Sunderland opened fire with the four fixed nose guns and the two front turret guns with such effect that for the last 300 yards of the run the enemy’s gunners did not reply. Up to this point the aircraft had been repeatedly hit but Fellows pressed home his attack taking only the minimum of evasive action. He attacked from the U-boat’s port bow and from 50 feet released six depth charges spaced at 60 feet intervals. As the rear gunner with his guns fully depressed saw the sub enter his sights, he pressed the firing controls - and there was a violent explosion. The blast appeared to have been No 4 depth charge detonating prematurely on striking the U-boat’s hull and the effect of this on the aircraft and crew prevented them from seeing the explosions of the rest of the depth charges. As the rear gunner got the forward part of U-672 in his sights there was a violent explosion which threw up everything movable in the aircraft - floorboards, IFF set and crockery; these, together with some eggs and the crew, formed a new variety of omelette on the edge of which the rear gunner lay unconscious. The wireless operator was thrown from his perch in the astrodome, all the electrical circuits became unserviceable, the R/T cable was cut, seams in the wings were opened and the port flaps were put out of action while the rear-facing camera’s leads were severed. Apart from damage to the rear turret, the whole airframe was twisted and the elevators almost put out of function. It took all the strength and skill of the captain and second pilot to overcome this.

Now extremely tail-heavy the aircraft began to climb and even with full nose trim Fellows had to put pressure on the controls. Eventually all the crew were brought forward of the main spar in order to help maintain trim. When the aircraft was 300 yards away the front gunner saw a brownish pool with blue smoke hanging over it 70-100 feet astern of U-672. While the Sunderland was being brought under control, the rear gunner, who had regained consciousness, saw the U-boat down by the stern and listing. It took three minutes for Fellows to regain reasonable control of his aircraft. He climbed to 600 feet and once more in control of the Sunderland, turned back over the target area and for a second attack. In that interval the U-boat disappeared from view, leaving just a spreading patch of oil but no wreckage. Searching the sea carefully Fellows found no further evidence of results except a patch of oil. ¹²⁴ Fellows’ Sunderland was so badly damaged that he was forced to return home. Lawaetz dived U-672 and escaped, returning to St Nazaire on 12 May. ¹²⁵

On 16 May, 70 miles north-west of Stadlandet, Norway, Sunderland JM667/V on 330 Norwegian Squadron piloted by Sub Lieutenant C. T. Johnsen, is thought to have attacked U-240 commanded by 26-year old Oberleutnant zur see Günter Link who had left Bergen on 13 May and was en route for Narvik. The Sunderland approached and opened fire at 1,000 yards, the U-boat replying and hitting the aircraft on the bottom of the hull. At 800 yards the front gunner opened fire and scored hits on the conning tower and gun crews, sweeping them away in the hail of bullets. Both sides took evasive action, the aircraft jinking and the U-boat zigzagging and then turning violently to port. The aircraft ran in over the enemy’s port quarter at 50 feet and attempted to release four depth charges, but all of them hung up. As the aircraft passed over the submarine the rear gunner fired into the conning tower and several of the German gunners were seen to fall overboard. During the run-in the enemy’s flak was very concentrated but after the aircraft had turned to port to attack again the flak was much lighter, only one gun being seen in action. The U-boat continued to circle to port while Johnsen came in again from the port quarter. During this second attack the front gunner was killed, the third pilot and flight engineer wounded and Johnsen temporarily blinded by bursts of cannon fire in the cockpit as well as flames and oil from the front turret. Nevertheless, Johnsen pressed home his attack and released four depth charges from 40 feet while the U-boat was still on the surface. Three of the depth charge explosions were seen, the nearest being 15 feet away from the U-boat’s port quarter. Several of the Sunderland’s crew saw the plume of this depth charge wash over the U-boat’s stern. Meanwhile the aircraft had been hit again in the starboard outer engine, which stopped; at the same time the starboard inner engine began to vibrate violently. Immediately after the second attack, when the explosion plumes had subsided, the bow submerged and then lifted clear out of the water at an angle of about 30 degrees. About three minutes after the attack the U-boat submerged stern first. The Sunderland, owing to its extensive damage and casualties, set course for base immediately. Johnsen had great difficulty in maintaining height and the crew were sent to ditching stations. After jettisoning 1,000 gallons of petrol, all spare ammunition, practice bombs and smoke floats, Johnsen was able to gain height and returned to base on three engines. U-240 was lost with all 50 hands. ¹²⁶

Off Trondheim on 21 May Pilot Officer E. T. King RCAF on 4 OTU flying Sunderland ‘S-Sugar’ dropped six depth charges and hit and damaged U-995 which was three days out from Bergen on passage to Trondheim on its first war cruise to commence Arctic operations. The depth charges damaged the boat and four crewmen were wounded when King strafed the submarine. The submarine aborted to Trondheim for repairs. ¹²⁷ Three days’ later, off Namsos, Flight Lieutenant R. H. Nesbitt on 423 Squadron RCAF and Sunderland DV990/R on 422 Squadron RCAF flown by Flying Officer George E. Holley attacked and damaged U-921 commanded by 26-year old Wolfgang Leu, who was en route to search for survivors of the lost U-476 which was sunk by a Catalina on 210 Squadron that same day. Holley’s aircraft was shot down. When U-921’s 37mm flak gun failed, Leu, who was wounded on the bridge, dived the submarine but he could not get below and he perished. After repairs in Norway U-921 joined the Arctic force. ¹²⁸

West of Ålesund on 24 May, a Sunderland on 4 OTU piloted by an Australian, Flying Officer T. F. Peter Frizell DFC, an instructor, attacked the new U-675, commanded by 25-year old Karl-Heinz Sammler and which was on its third war cruise, having left Narvik on 17 April. Frizell dropped five depth charges, one of which hit and bounced off the forward deck and exploded. Frizell reported that bodies and wreckage (‘oil drums and planking’) rose to the surface. All 51 hands perished. ¹²⁹

On 5 June, the day before D-Day, Flight Lieutenant Bowrie on 228 Squadron piloting Sunderland ML763 obtained two SE contacts and sighting a fully surfaced U-boat. The Sunderland tracked over the submarine at 75 feet but the bomb doors failed to open. Having dropped a marker, the Sunderland positioned for a second attack but the U-boat was not re-sighted. Two days’ later, on the night of 7 June, two Sunderland captains claimed two more U-boats. One of them was credited to Flight Lieutenant Leslie ‘Beve’ Baveystock DFC DFM on 201 Squadron at Pembroke Dock who was piloting ML740/S. Baveystock was born in Finchley in 1914 and enlisted in 1940, undertaking flying training in Canada before flying Manchesters on 50 Squadron at Skellingthorpe. ¹³⁰

In May he had been asked to leave his own crew to be captained by his second pilot and to himself captain the crew of an injured pilot. Up to 6 June he had made eleven trips with them. ‘...we knew that the invasion was about to begin for while flying over the Irish Sea we saw the huge armada of battle-wagons on its way south to soften up the German defences. I awoke on 6 June to find the whole station alive with the news that the invasion had commenced. At the flight office I found I was scheduled to fly that night on a special trip down off Gijon in Spain, to find and attack a known U-boat which had been harried for two days without success. It had been attacked on the night of the 5th and remained submerged throughout the daylight hours.’

Shortly before midnight Baveystock was flying at 450 feet just below 10/10ths cloud North of Cape Ortegal when a radar contact was obtained bearing Red 106 degrees, range 9 miles. Baveystock recalled that ‘We felt sure it was our quarry as the size of the blip was the same as we normally got from our tame sub we practiced with.’

Height was reduced from 450 feet to 250 feet as he homed and the contact was down to half a mile, when the blip disappeared. The Sunderland was then at 100 feet and began to drop flares. Immediately afterwards the crew saw an unmistakable swirl and the second pilot saw bubbles rising to the surface. One minute later another Sunderland, N/461, dropped flares in the same area. Baveystock recalled: ‘Unknown to us the other Sunderland had picked up my sighting report that I sent and turned round to join us. We were now climbing to a safe height when suddenly the whole area lit up and the 461 Squadron Sunderland dived in to make an attack on us. He had picked up our blip on his radar and mistaken it for the U-boat; we were approaching it at about 300 mph but they passed directly beneath us, neither pilot having time to take avoiding action.’ (N/461 left at its PLE - Prudent Limit of Endurance - at 0240 hours). We now started baiting tactics flying for two minutes, about four miles north of the flame-float and then turning south, crossing the float again and going four miles south, back again, four miles to the east and then four miles to west. Knowing his batteries would be very low, after being kept under all day, we reckoned he would only be doing a few knots. Also, as it would be dawn at about 0500 hours, we estimated that he would need to resurface at the latest by 0300 hours to get two hours necessary for a recharge.’

At sixteen minutes before that hour, flying at 400 feet, the Sunderland crew obtained a firm contact bearing Red 70 degrees, range 11 miles. Baveystock immediately homed, the radar operator holding the contact throughout the run and giving faultless homing instructions. When the range was half a mile flak appeared dead ahead, but the tracer passed high and to port of the Sunderland. The aircraft turned slightly to starboard, dived and began dropping 1.7 inch flares which illuminated a U-boat 600 yards fine on the port bow. It was U-955 commanded by 29-year old Korvettenkapitän Hans-Heinrich Baden and was steering due east at ten knots to Lorient from a 54 day weather patrol.

‘We must have been silhouetted against the faint light of the clouds’ continued Baveystock. ‘We immediately started dropping flares and our U-boat was fully lit up a little too port and turning sharply to his starboard. As he came broadside on, his four 20mm cannon opened up with tracer streams all around us. I turned the aircraft into attack and opened up with my four fixed guns as the front gunner fired with his twin Brownings; the whole area was a criss-cross of tracer bullets and shells but when 200 yards away, all return fire stopped for we had smothered the guns with continuous fire from our six Brownings.’

Baveystock attacked over the enemy’s port quarter at 75 feet and released six depth charges spaced at 60 feet while the target was fully illuminated by fifteen flares. ‘Our DCs had an underwater travel of 36 feet forward and 20 feet down’ said Baveystock ‘so it appeared as if No.4 DC had gone off directly under the centre of the hull but with No.5 making a direct hit on the superstructure and exploding prematurely alongside.’

The rear gunner saw the U-boat’s silhouette completely blotted out by plumes. Three or four seconds after the depth charges had been released and just before the explosions were seen, there was a heavy thud in the aircraft as if it had been hit. Throughout the attack flares were dropped and continuous radar watch was kept. The blip was held all through the run in but it disappeared immediately after the actual attack and was not picked up again. In spite of an hour’s search the crew saw nothing more of the target. U-955 was lost with all 50 hands. ¹³¹

The story has a sad end. When Baveystock landed he went to London because his father had died the day before. Baveystock received a bar to his DFC and two of the crew were awarded the DFM but they were unable to receive their decoration. On their next sortie Baveystock’s crew flew with the Flight Commander, Squadron Leader W. D. B. Ruth DFC and the aircraft did not return.

On 9 June Hector Bolitho put pen to paper and recorded that ‘The weather has become unkind and although eight U-boats were sighted in the past twenty-four hours, sorties flown fell from 142 yesterday to 79 to-day. This means a fall in flying hours from 1,040, to 587. Nevertheless six U-boats were attacked and not one has yet penetrated into the Channel. During yesterday afternoon three U-boats were sighted by United States Navy Liberators flying from Dunkeswell. One of the captains saw the conning tower of a U-boat just after three o’clock and attacked. Liberators of 15 Group, operating from Northern Ireland, joined in the patrols during the night and two of them made attacks. One, from 120 Squadron, was patrolling west of Brest when the navigator, Sergeant Cheslin, sighted the U-boat some miles away. The aircraft dived in to attack, releasing the depth charges twenty-odd yards ahead of the swirl, a few seconds after the U-boat dived. The centre plumes came up dirty grey in colour and oil’ patches swelled up to the surface and spread until they covered an area three miles long.

‘Another aircraft from the same squadron was carrying out a sweep on the French side of the Channel, at almost half-past one in the morning. A U-boat was contacted, the Leigh Light was switched on and the Germans replied immediately with red tracer. The nose gunner fired a short burst into the source of the tracer and then his gun jammed. But the navigator saw the U-boat, too late to change course. The depth charges straddled the U-boat track about fifty feet astern. A marker was dropped and surface vessels were homed to the spot to continue the hunt.

‘The Australians also came into their own to-day, for one of their squadrons, 461, made two good attacks. Flying Officer Sheehan, of Sydney, was flying his Sunderland at 800 feet when he contacted a U-boat. As they approached they saw a light, probably the glow from below as the Germans were coming up to the conning tower. Flares were launched at one mile and the U-boat was disclosed, almost dead ahead. The sea was jet black, the U-boat pale grey, with a shining white wash astern. Fire was exchanged and the aircraft tracked over the U-boat’s bows and released depth charges. The rear gunner saw them enter the water but he was blinded by the flares and unable to see how near they had fallen. The mid-upper gunner saw the plumes, over 270 feet high, rise above the tail plane. Forty minutes later Sheehan flew over the spot and saw a dark object in the sea and nine hours afterwards another aircraft flew over the scene and saw oil streaks, converging towards one spot and debris in the water.

‘Fifteen minutes later the second Australian Sunderland made its attack and damaged another U-boat. The captain was Flying Officer Livermore, from Melbourne. The radar contact was obtained at eight minutes to one o’clock and thirty-five flares were dropped, illuminating a U-boat on the surface. The U-boat opened fire and red tracer enveloped the aircraft without doing any damage. But the fire of the aircraft was more successful and a hit was scored on the conning tower. Six depth charges were dropped and the tail gunner gave the U-boat 250 rounds. Again the flares blinded the crew so that they could not see the depth charges enter the water, but both the tail and midship gunners saw at least two explosions close to the hull, abaft the conning tower. Two other aircraft flying within fifteen miles of the position at one-thirty this afternoon saw considerable wreckage in the water, including a rectangular metal box.’

On patrol in the Bay of Biscay on 10 June Sunderland ML762 flown by Flight Lieutenant Hewitt failed to return. Another Sunderland, on 10 Squadron RAAF, piloted by H. A. McGregor, hit the U-333, commanded by 32-year old Ritterkreuz holder Korvettenkapitän Peter-Erich Cremer. The U-boat’s 37mm jammed after the first round, but the German 20mm gunners repelled the Sunderland. Even so, the boat incurred heavy damage. On the following night, 11/12 June, Sunderland ML880/U on 228 Squadron piloted by a Canadian, Flight Lieutenant M. C. Slaughter, hit U-333. Cremer’s gunners shot down this Sunderland with the loss of all hands, but U-333 was so badly damaged that Cremer had to abort to La Pallice. ¹³² On 19 June Flight Lieutenant F. H. ‘Tim’ Bunce on 461 Squadron was patrolling through very bad weather when his radar picked up a surfaced U-boat some 90 miles west-southwest of the Scilly Isles, obtaining a visual at 1500 hours. Thundering down through the muck, the Sunderland was still four miles away from its target when it crash-dived. Pressing on, Bunce released two of his depth charges ahead of the surface swirl created by his quarry, but under such limited conditions, he could only report ‘doubtful results’.

A Sunderland on 228 Squadron had a fierce gun battle with a U-boat at three o’clock on the afternoon of the 22nd. The aircraft was hit but the crew had the satisfaction of seeing seven of the U-boat’s gun crew fall under their fire. The Sunderland dropped six depth charges, while still under heavy fire. It made a second attack with two more depth charges and then an aircraft of 502 Squadron arrived on the scene and dropped three of the big antisubmarine bombs, one falling twenty-five yards from the target. The flak was then heavy but inaccurate and both aircraft returned to base after seeing the U-boat submerge, leaving a patch of oil on the surface. ¹³³

Sunderland ML877/R on 228 Squadron captained by Flight Lieutenant Charles Gordon Drake Lancaster, left Pembroke Dock in the early evening of 7 July for a twelve-hour moonlight patrol in the Bay of Biscay. Shortly before midnight between Brest and Bordeaux and about 150 miles out to sea the radar operator picked up a weak contact at 15 miles to starboard. There was a full moon but there were patches of black cloud. Lancaster, who a year earlier had attacked a RN submarine in error, dropped his flares at half a mile and revealed the U-boat’s bearing and position. This time there was no doubt about the identity of the submarine. It was U-970, captained by 26-year old Korvettenkapitän Hans-Heinrich Ketels, which had left La Pallice on D-Day and was steering west of Bordeaux at 10-12 knots. Lancaster immediately altered course towards the enemy who, as soon as the first flare ignited, began firing wildly well to port of the aircraft. The Sunderland replied with the fixed guns and front turret which temporarily silenced the U-boat gunners; at 200 yards, however, they again opened fire, this time accurately and hit the aircraft in eight places.

Flight Lieutenant O. T. Brown the second pilot of the Sunderland had every reason for being excited. He had joined the Squadron the day before, never having been on operations and never having been in a Sunderland. Brown said, ‘I was in the second pilot’s seat when the Captain said, ‘Look chaps, we’ve really got something.’ He took over the controls, the bombs were run out and the men in the galley dropped the flares when we were half a mile away. I saw the U-boat clearly, just as one expected it would look. But the flares were so blinding - they were like a flickering bonfire behind us - I could not see whether there were any Germans on the deck. The U-boat opened fire and the tracer came past us like red and blue needles, but well to port of the aircraft. Then our skipper replied with his four fixed guns, but I was much too young at the game to know which was which. Then came complete silence. At 200 yards they opened fire again and hit us in eight places. We came in and dropped six depth charges at 55 feet using the low-level bombsight. I heard the four thuds as we passed over. We circled round and they fired at us again but I did not see the result of the attack from where I was sitting. The bomb-aimer estimated that the centre of the stick overshot slightly but it was the mid upper gunner, who was in the best position to see the results as he was not blinded by the flares, who gave evidence of the straddle. He saw one small explosion plume subsiding on the enemy’s starboard side and a big plume on the port side just abaft the conning tower. The stern of the U-boat seemed to lift out of the water and she heeled to starboard. Then a big patch of oil appeared, 200 feet across, with a thin oily wake, 400 feet long, leading to the U-boat, which lay either stationary or stopping.’

U-970’s gunners fired six rounds of tracer vertically in the air nowhere near the aircraft. The Sunderland stayed in the area for another two hours and twenty minutes but saw nothing more. U-970 was lost with 38 hands. ¹³³ In November 1944 Flight Lieutenant Lancaster was killed flying Air Chief Marshal Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory to the Far East when their Avro York crashed in France.

On the afternoon of 8 July Sunderland W4030/H on 10 Squadron RAAF at Mount Batten piloted by Flying Officer William Boris Tilley DFC found U-243 on the surface west of Nantes and about ninety miles from Brest. Hector Bolitho arrived at Mount Batten the next day and found Tilley who pointed beyond where the Golden Hind once lay at anchor and where a flock of white Sunderlands was resting on the water, to a shining green slope. ‘That’s where Drake played his game of bowls,’ he said. ‘I play there myself sometimes on warm evenings.’ Then he added, ‘It’s an old man’s game in this country, but back in Australia the young ones play it as well.’

‘Tilley was a reluctant talker at first. When he began to trust me he sat back and told his tale, through the clouds of smoke from an American cigarette. ‘Before I went on patrol,’ he said, ‘I saw my room-mate, Johnny Mabbett, who comes from South Melbourne. I come from Port Melbourne, the adjoining town. Next time I saw him was towards the end of my patrol. It was still early in the afternoon and I was only about ten minutes from base when I saw a streak on the water which might have been from a periscope. I called Johnny over the R/T and told him I had seen a suspicious looking object. He circled, saw nothing and answered, ‘You’re up a tree, Joe. I’m going back on patrol.’ I persisted and said, ‘I think we’ve got something. I’ll stick around.’

‘Mabbett flew away and after I had flown over the spot again and seen nothing, we cut across the area of our patrol to pick up time. We had been flying along the line for about two or three minutes when the second pilot, Roy Felan - he’s our Australian junior tennis champion - said, ‘What do you make of that over there?’ He was doing his hourly stretch in the captain’s seat. I looked and then jumped right up and got into the captain’s seat as I said, ‘It’s a bloody U-boat. I sounded the U-boat warning and the crew went to action stations. I had done 550 hours operational flying since I arrived in England and it was the first U-boat I had ever seen so I was a bit excited. We turned in immediately to attack but before I finished the turn, the U-boat must have seen us because it opened fire. The flak was pretty thick. We went straight for them, using fairly violent evasive action until we were 2,000 yards away. We expected to be hit at any minute so I opened up with my four fixed nose guns. I could see by the splashes in the sea that our fire was falling short so I ceased, opening up again when we were 1,500 yards away. This time I could see the spray coming up a little to port of the U-boat. It wasn’t difficult then to keep the fire on the conning tower. We had ceased our evasive action while I concentrated on the guns and as the flak was coming up pretty thick, I kept saying to myself, ‘We’re going to cop it.’ Just before my guns ceased firing, there was an explosion in our bow compartment. I thought that we had collected a shell but later we found a round had exploded in the breech block of one of our own guns.

‘The U-boat made no attempt to submerge and I kept saying to myself, ‘When are we going to get to the bloody thing?’ The gun fire appeared to cease at 400 yards and we could see the U-boat, nice and grey and sleek, on the water. The Germans ceased fire at 400 yards and our guns ceased at 300 yards. We were flying then at 140 knots, at 75 feet above the sea. Then I dropped our DCs. Crew drill was perfect and the only break in the silence over the intercom was the navigator, Flight Lieutenant Ive Wood, giving his calm, running commentary and his instructions to the wireless operator regarding the signals to be sent (to base). After we had passed over we evaded in case they re-manned their guns. Then pandemonium broke out over our intercom. The tail gunner had given the U-boat a final burst as we ran over and he saw the results of our bombs. He shouted, ‘You beaut, you’ve got him.’

‘I then said, ‘We’ve forgotten our marker so we’ll have to go in again,’ but the port waist gunner said, ‘OK sir, marker’s been dropped.’ It was part of the perfect crew drill which was maintained all through. We then circled at a quarter of a mile to see the results of our handiwork. The U-boat was low by the stern, but one gun kept popping at us. Felan had been out of it up to then and he said to me, ‘What will I do?’ So I sent him downstairs to get the hand-held camera. He took photographs all the time from then, out of one of the hatches, as the U-boat was slowly sinking. Then a United States Liberator [of VB-105 piloted by Aurelian H. Cooledge] arrived on the scene and made two runs over the U-boat, firing at it but dropping no depth charges. We also kept circling. Then another Sunderland [JM684/K] came along - one from our squadron, with [Flight Lieutenant] Dick Cargeeg, a West Australian, as Captain. He dropped depth charges but the U-boat had ceased to move. White smoke was coming from the conning tower and some of the Germans climbed out. Cargeeg’s depth charges fell 30 yards ahead and slightly on the port bow. He had allowed for the U-boat still making way. But he got some good photographs showing the Germans lined up on the deck, with about fifteen yellow dinghies. They were abandoning ship. These photographs proved afterwards that we had got it so I felt bloody pleased.

‘The US Liberator made another attack and dropped eight depth charges near the sinking U-boat. The blokes were in the water at this time and they must have been fairly shaken up by the depth charges. I then tested my own nose guns but we had fired the lot during the attack. The U-boat was sinking fast and it went down tail first, almost vertically. I’ve never been as thrilled in all my life. The survivors were in the water and I made a run over them with the camera. There were two big dinghies and fifteen one-man dinghies. One of the men I could see had a red and black-stripped pullover on. The dinghies looked very yellow in the water. I kept running over out of curiosity and they were waving to us and we were waving back. I felt a bit sorry for them so I dropped one of our dinghies and a Bircham barrel and a food pack. By this time the Liberator and the other Sunderland had stooged off, but we stayed over the sinking U-boat as long as we could and then flew back to base with only ten minutes petrol to spare. For some unknown reason the Sunderland went back to the patrol line where I had talked to Mabbett; where I had thought that I saw the first U-boat. I must have been right because the Sunderland sighted a periscope in the same position, just under his port main plane. It was impossible for him to get down too attack it, but it proved that something was there. We stayed over the sinking U-boat as long as we could and then flew back to base with ten minutes’ petrol left. At eight o’clock that night the Germans were picked up by a Canadian destroyer, the Restigouche [of hunter-killer Support Group 14]. We had killed fourteen of them with our guns and thirty-seven of them were brought back to England alive. The Germans talked to the crew of the Canadian destroyer and said that the captain of the U-boat exposed himself on the conning tower as we were firing and his head had been chopped off. It just fell on the deck.’

U-243 was scuttled by the engineer, who went down with the boat, leaving the commander, 26-year old Kapitänleutnant Hans Märtens and 37 of his crew in the water. Later two Mosquitoes circled until the arrival of the rescue ships seven hours after the U-243 sank. ¹³⁵ In the interrogation his crew related their view of the attack:

‘We were making for Brest when at about 1420 hours on 8 July we came to the surface to fix our position. Immediately we surfaced we sighted two Sunderlands. The commanding officer decided to fight it out and we opened fire with the 37mm gun. One of the Sunderlands came in to attack from the starboard bow with cannon fire and dropped six depth charges. The last of these was a direct hit on the after part of the boat. As the aircraft flew off the rear gunner fired at us and put both the 37mm and the port twin 20mm guns out of action. The second Sunderland ran in from the port beam straight over the bridge, circled round the bows and came in again from the port bow firing cannon. Everyone on the bridge, including the commanding officer, was killed, except one petty officer and the second lieutenant, who was wounded. Others told me that this Sunderland dropped depth charges but everything was in such confusion that nobody knew just where they exploded. In the meantime the direct hit from the first aircraft had caused chaos below. The motors were on fire, the propeller shafts, propellers, hydroplanes and rudders were smashed, the diesels were torn from their mountings and everything in the engine rooms was badly knocked about. A diving tank was damaged and the W/T transformer was put out of action. The galley hatch was also forced open. Moreover, we had used up all the flak ammunition and it was therefore decided to abandon ship. Two seven-man rubber boats were cleared for taking off the ship’s company but one was hit before it could be used. ¹³⁶

Flight Lieutenant L. F. B. ‘Wally’ Walters DFC* and crew on 201 Squadron also made a good Sunderland attack on 11 July. Walters’ pilgrimage through the RAF had been long and he had certainly gone the hard way. Fifteen years earlier he joined the Service as an apprentice Wireless Operator Mechanic, destined it seemed, to serve on the ground: Promotion was slow in those days and three years passed before he was an LAC. His attitude towards the Service at that time probably explained why he had gone so far. He was sent to Upavon for eighteen months and, much against his desire, because the flying bug had bitten him, he serviced the R/T equipment on a single seater fighter squadron. ‘Don’t imagine I did this well,’ he said, ‘but with such a grand crowd of officers and NCOs one couldn’t but give one’s best.’

Then Walters went to Transjordan, a school of experience for which many older RAF pilots were grateful as it gave them a peacetime taste of active service. The motto of his squadron, No. 14 was I spread my wings and keep my promise. Walters did both in time. He was posted to 6 Squadron which patrolled the desert, escorting trains and road convoys and rounding up political truants, shooting up belligerent Arabs and being shot at by them. He came to know the shape of the country until it was as familiar to him as his village green. He says that he ended up ‘with a wholesale respect for John Arab, mingled with a sneaking sympathy.’

Seven years had passed since Walters watched the aircraft take off at Cranwell, while he spun his dream of becoming a pilot. The dream came true and he returned to England for training. Next came flying in Egypt, the encouragement of promotion; and return to England as a sergeant, ‘heady with stripes.’! He did a four months’ navigation course and then he went on to flying-boats.

‘The aircrews of flying-boats in Coastal’ wrote Hector Bolitho ‘look upon the rest of the Command rather as Boston looks on the rest of America, or as the Grenadier Guards look upon Boy Scouts. Walters had at last become one of the elect. He said, ‘I went to 204 Squadron which had just returned from the centenary celebrations in Australia.’ In June 1939 the squadron was equipped with Sunderlands and one of Walters’ first jobs was to deliver an aircraft to Singapore. He was slowly conquering the world. War came and after making fifteen operational sorties Walters crashed at night while landing in Plymouth Sound. He was out of the picture for a month. He then went back to operations and flew 98 sorties and 1,160 operational hours before he had first rest. He says of this first tour, ‘The thing that shook me most was the risks we took with the elements. We operated from advanced bases, like the Shetlands and Iceland, with very few modern aids, in weather which makes me think it was a miracle that made us survive. The enemy showed up occasionally and-I remember two scraps, one with a Dornier 17 and one with a Dornier 18. We fought the latter for twenty minutes and although we did not kill him, we had the moral victory of seeing him turn and make for home. The U-boats usually saw us first and submerged before we could attack them, but we kept them down’

‘During one month in the summer of 1940 Walters spent almost seven days airborne. Then came rest during which he trained the young. He said, ‘it took nineteen whole months and considerable belly-aching to get back to Ops and during that time I circuited and bumped my pupils around for a total of 550 hours.’ The belly-aching worked at last and in March 1943 Walters went to 201 Squadron, to begin his second tour. His crew sighted a fully surfaced U-boat at dawn on the second day, but 700 dreary hours of vigilance were to pass before he saw his second one. These 700 hours took him over waters as far flung as Reykjavik and Gibraltar.’

This long story led at last to success on 11 July when Flight Lieutenant ‘Wally’ Walters DFC* and his crew were successful west of La Rochelle. They were flying ML881/P, one of a full complement of Sunderland IIIAs which had been received by the end of June. Among the IIIA’s improvements were a fourteen gun armament, ASV III and ‘Gee’ II. The aircraft was on patrol in good weather when the second pilot ‘poked his binoculars in the right direction’ and sighted a wake about eight and a half miles away on the starboard bow. No initial radar contact was made and the set was switched off 30 seconds but the crew clearly identified the periscope and raised schnörkel of the U-boat. The Sunderland closed in rapidly and Walters dived towards the wake. The white belly of the flying boat was well hidden in a layer of woolly strato-cumulus clouds and, as Walters said ‘we had tons of time to prepare for attack.’ The U-boat - it was U-1222 commanded by 27-year old Kapitänleutnant Heinz Bielfeld, which was returning from the Canadian coast at the end of its first war cruise, at first held its course but as Walters said, ‘at about three miles we were flying at 500 feet, silhouetted against the horizon, when the blighter saw us and stopped. This rather foxed me for a moment as I couldn’t make out which way he was heading. But he solved the problem for us. When we were about half a mile away his stern came up to the surface as he was trying to crash dive. He was in that position when I straddled him from 50 feet with five depth charges spaced at 60 feet, blowing his stern out of the water.’ When the Sunderland returned to the scene of the attack the crew saw nothing but a few pieces of wood and whitish froth on the surface of the sea. Waters saw wooden slats in the sea and a pigeon; then he resumed patrol. About four hours later a 461 Squadron Sunderland scoured the scene and noticed a fresh red patch on the surface of the sea, about 50 yards in diameter. Photograph evidence was used to assess that the No. 2 Depth Charge had proved lethal. U-1222 was lost with all 56 hands. ¹³⁷

Hector Bolitho saw Walters a few days later, ‘trying to accustom his restless feet to a desk at Group Headquarters’. He had completed 149 sorties and 1,906 operational hours and was being forced to rest, ‘but he was a little embarrassed by the placid tempo of the office and he darted about like the first wasp of summer. I suppose it is not easy for a man who has flown between Singapore and Iceland to squeeze his horizon down to the space between an ink pot and a telephone.’

In July 1944 sixty sightings were made in the waters round the British Isles and 45 attacks were carried out. ¹³⁸ Early in August 1944 anti-submarine squadrons flew patrols at the western end of the Channel as a blockade to prevent U-boats from reaching resupply convoys crossing from England to the Normandy the invasion area around Cherbourg but once this threat diminished, patrols were flown west of Brest. When the submarine bases on the French Atlantic coast were no longer available to the U-boats, operations focused on an area nearer Bordeaux, just west of the Gironde.

‘An excellent and unusual attack was made by a Sunderland of 228 Squadron on the 9th’ wrote Hector Bolitho. ‘The captain of the aircraft was Flying Officer Bunting. It is just one more of those perfect attacks which show how the training before D-Day has eaten into the minds of the crews. Bunting was flying at 1,000 feet about half-past six in the evening when he saw a U-boat surfacing some two and a half miles away. The aircraft lost height and two depth charges were dropped forty-five seconds after the U-boat had submerged. As a U-boat moves ten feet a second this means that it was 450 feet ahead and under water when the depth charges were dropped. A black mass of debris appeared at the edge of the disturbance caused by the depth charges. Normally, this attack would have driven the U-boat deep, but ten minutes later it appeared again with its periscope above surface. It must have been damaged by the first attack; otherwise it would have sought the safety of the lower regions. Bunting flew in again and dropped six more depth charges from eighty feet. When the aircraft was about three-quarters of a mile away the rear gunner saw big globules of heavy black oil welling up to the surface. Then the crew saw a violent disturbance about a mile and a half from the position of the attack. This continued for some time and it is certain that the U-boat was damaged: possible that it was killed. Naval vessels were ordered to the scene of the attack and there is every hope ‘of later news that the U-boat was destroyed.’

On 10 August Pilot Officer Ivan F. Southall piloting ML741/P, a Leigh-Light Sunderland on 461 Squadron, attacked a U-boat west of La Rochelle. It was U-385 commanded by 25-year old Hans-Guido Valentiner, which was bound for the English Channel having sailed from St. Nazaire on 9 August on its second war cruise. Upon activation of the snort, it malfunctioned and filled the boat with exhaust gases, felling Valentiner and many crewmen. At about dusk on 10 August Valentiner surfaced the boat, just 7,000 yards from the sloop, HMS Starling, commanded by N. A. Duck. Starling opened fire, drawing counter fire from U-385’s flak guns. After about a half hour, Valentiner dived and attempted to escape submerged. When he resurfaced three and a half hours’ later, in the early hours of 11 August Southall’s Sunderland picked up the U-boat on radar. ¹³⁹ Southall turned away until the range had opened to eight miles and then turned back towards the target, which had been held all the time by radar. He made a series of S turns to get the U-boat in the moon-path, eventually sighting her again at a range of six miles. At four miles he lost height to 500 feet and at two miles he dived to attack, releasing from 100 feet six depth charges spaced at 55 feet. He used no illuminant, as he could see the target up moon in perfect visibility. The depth charges were dropped across the U-boat’s beam and are stated to have straddled her amidships, four entering the water to starboard and two to port. The explosion plumes completely obliterated the target. Immediately before the attack the U-boat fired a few shots and what may have been a red recognition cartridge. At the moment of the depth charge explosions a bluish-white flash was seen from the U-boat.

After the plumes had subsided U-385 was still on the surface, but was stationary. Southall turned to port after the attack and flew past the enemy’s stern at a range of 1,000 yards. The German gunners opened up with about six guns, but their fire, though fairly heavy, was most inaccurate. At two miles range the U-boat disappeared from view and two minutes later the blip also disappeared. The Sunderland flew off to make contact with an Escort Group, which was then nine miles SE of the position of the attack and led the ships back to the area. On returning to the marker the crew found a patch of oil 100 yards wide. Later they picked up a radar contact at three miles on the U-boat’s original track about two miles ahead of her last position. After three attempts this was illuminated with flares and identified as a radar decoy balloon. The Sunderland reported the position to the ships and continued to stand by. About two and a half hours after the attack the radar operator picked up another contact, but it disappeared when the aircraft was a mile away. This was also reported to the ships, which began to sweep towards the new contact. After about an hour they reported having found an empty dinghy. After having stayed in the area for three and a half hours the Sunderland reached PLE (Prudent Limit of Endurance) and Southall set course for base. At 0636 on 12 August U-385 was depth-charged to the surfaced by HMS Starling and from 3,000 yards ahead was heavily engaged and hit by gunfire. U-385 sank five minutes later. ¹⁴⁰ The sloop Wren, which had the survivors of U-608 on board, rescued 41 Germans, including Valentiner.

On 12 August 461 Squadron was again successful when Flying Officer Donald A. Little and crew on ML735 returned victorious. U-270, which was unfit for combat and had sailed with a scratch crew commanded by 27-year old Heinrich Schreiber from Lorient on 10 August bound for La Pallice with an escort of three M-class minesweepers to evacuate personnel. Unfortunately for U-270, the escort was recalled late on 10 August. The submarine was steering 110 degrees at 15 knots when Little arrived on the scene. The U-boat looked very big and had a high conning tower with two bandstands aft. About ten men were seen in the conning tower or manning the guns aft of it. These gunners promptly opened fire with light and medium tracer which came up in four streams from points abaft the conning tower. The Sunderland replied with 120 rounds from the nose gun and 380 from the fixed guns. This fire discouraged the U-boat’s gunners so effectively that the last 400 yards of the Sunderland’s approach was unopposed. Little attacked from abaft the U-boat’s starboard beam and from 300 feet released six depth charges spaced at 55 feet. The aircrew did not see the points of entry of the depth charges and saw only two of the explosions, the nearer being about 15 feet from the port side of the conning tower. (While none of the depth charges hit the U-boat they caused damage to the pressure hull near the No. 5 diving tank. The vessel attempted to continue on the surface but water was entering and she was in danger of sinking). At two miles’ range the contact disappeared and when the Sunderland returned to the position ten minutes later, intending to attack again, the crew neither saw the U-boat nor picked up any contact. However, about an hour after the attack, they saw many small lights in the water, two of which were flashing SOS. (When a Wellington flew over the U-boat the crew abandoned ship before an attack was delivered). About 0130 hours some escort vessels arrived in response to the Sunderland’s homing signals and 20 minutes later the SNO reported by R/T that the U-boat had been sunk and that Streiber and 70 other survivors rescued. Ten hands perished.

On 18 August Flight Lieutenant Leslie Baveystock DFC* DFM, flying Sunderland EJ150, was credited with the destruction of his second U-boat. Having lost his original crew when they went down with Squadron Leader Ruth DFC, Baveystock had taken over another crew. ‘I took over the crew of Flight Lieutenant Eddie Bent, a Canadian, who had just finished his tour. My 2nd pilot was Brian Landers, my navigator Flying Officer Ian Riddell, a New Zealander. We carried a third pilot - a Canadian, Flying Officer McGregor. We had been briefed to look for U-boats which were being used by the Germans to ferry senior officers from the Brest peninsular which had been cut off from the main German forces by the advancing American army and it was believed that they were being taken down to Bordeaux. Our search was south-west of Belle Ile of the French coast.’

Landers was flying the aircraft while Baveystock was in the cubicle under the second pilot’s seat on the lower deck. Baveystock was just buttoning up his trousers when he heard the alarm. ‘When I got to the bridge they said, ‘hey, look, there’s a periscope’ and I looked and there was a periscope.’ It was U-107 commanded by 23-year old Korvettenkapitän Karl-Heinz Fritz which was on its 13th war cruise from Lorient during which it had sunk 38 ships and damaged four more since going to sea in 1941. The U-boat was earmarked for evacuation to Norway, thence to Germany and retirement. ¹⁴¹ Landers ran out the DCs while both he and Baveystock made the settings of the controls for the attack.

‘A signal was sent by W/T’ continues Baveystock ‘and when Landers brought the aircraft round, the wake from the periscope was clearly visible. I then took over and flew the aircraft from the second pilot’s seat and delivered a normal attack such as we had practiced many times. I had tightened the stick of six DCs before taking the 2nd pilot’s seat so that the DCs would releases at 50 feet intervals instead of the normal 60 feet. The stick fell with three on each side slightly ahead of the periscope which was still visible. No.3 DC must have exploded directly alongside the hull for the effect was devastating. A huge mass of white surging froth of air, oil and wreckage came to the surface covering an area of about 100 feet in diameter. This massive eruption of air continued for about 15-20 minutes before subsiding but with bubbles coming up from two adjacent points. We believed that the U-boat had broken in half.’

A few minutes after the attack oil came to the surface and an hour and a half later the slick had grown to a length of two miles. Miscellaneous wreckage also appeared, including pieces of wood and sheets of white paper which turned out to be charts and a round wooden wheel. An escort group and two Wellingtons were homed to the area before the Sunderland left. The surface vessels picked up some of the wreckage and the aircraft confirmed that the debris and patches of oil were in the same position. U-107 was lost with all 58 hands. Baveystock was awarded an immediate DSO for this action. The citation said: ‘Flight Lieutenant Baveystock continues to set the highest example of skill and leadership. His record as captain of aircraft is one of consistent efficiency and devotion to duty and his work has contributed much to the success of operations against the enemy surface and underwater craft.’ Baveystock commented: ‘My second pilot and the crew did it all for me. I just sat in the second pilot’s seat and pressed the tit. It was easy; I’m going to do the rest of my ops blindfold!’ More seriously, he reflected much later ‘I often wonder how many men I sent to their death but in those days we did not think of U-boats as containing men like ourselves. We just thought of the U-boats as vicious killers of our shipping ... ’

Coastal Command crews were now of the opinion that as far as the South-Western Approaches were concerned, there was little more to fear from the remnants of Dönitz’s forces. In their own language, they said they had ‘had it’

Anti-submarine operations continued in the English Channel and inshore waters in late 1944-early 1945 and patrols were also flown over the Irish Sea. Squadrons recorded many attacks on possible targets but few of these were proved to be definite U-boats. On 9 September U-484 was depth charged by the Royal Canadian Navy frigate Dunver and corvette Hespeler supported by a Sunderland on 423 Squadron RCAF 18 miles south of Barra Head and was lost with all 52 hands. ¹⁴²

On 6 December Flight Lieutenant D. R. Hatton on 201 Squadron which had moved from Pembroke Dock to Castle Archdale in Northern Ireland in November, attacked U-297, which was commanded by 28-year old Korvettenkapitän Wolfgang Aldegarmann. This U-boat was on its first war cruise, from Horten in Oslo fiord. Hatton was on a CLA (Creeping-Line-Ahead, a navigational search) patrol at the controls of NS-Y having taken off at 0710 hours. Three and a half hours later Hatton received a signal to cooperate with escort vessels in a U-boat search. By 1053 hours he had reached that area to sight a sinking escort vessel which had been torpedoed. This was the frigate HMS Bullen, which had been claimed by U-775. Hatton circled the life rafts on which there were survivors. For the whole of the day Hatton saw only other escort vessels throwing patterns of depth charges. Just after sunset, in fading light, while flying at 400 feet the Sunderland crew sighted white smoke at five miles distance. At one mile range a wake 1,100 feet long with its source moving at 11-12 knots was observed. An attack was attempted from 50 feet but the DCs failed to release. In a second attempt with six DCs, three fell along the wake spaced at 60 feet. Both wake and smoked disappeared. Five minutes later an oil patch spread over the surface for a half mile, when PLE was reached, Hatton returned to Castle Archdale. The Admiralty assessment at the time was a probable kill but post-war the submarine was credited as sunk by depth charges dropped by Royal Navy frigates Goodall and Loch Irish 18 miles ENE of Cape Wrath. U-297 was lost with all fifty hands. Hatton never learned of the re-assessment because on 14 March 1945 he was airborne in NS-A at 0203 hours and 27 minutes later the Sunderland crashed in the hills northwest of Killybegs, County Donegal. The aircraft caught fire and was completely destroyed. There were no survivors. ¹⁴³

In January 1945, a determined U-boat pack penetrated into the Irish Sea and patrols were immediately mounted by Nos. 10 and 461 Australian Sunderland squadrons, but, lamentably, without success. The weather was less than kind again, with the added, disastrous result that three of the Sunderlands were lost on 18 January in a gale at Pembroke Dock, causing the boats to slip their moorings and be dashed to pieces to sink in the harbour. One aircraft was manned in time and practically ‘flown’ on the water into the teeth of the gale in order to save it, but the others could not be reached in time.

In the early part of 1945 ASV VI-equipped Sunderland Vs promised better results but U-boat kills by Sunderlands were now few and far between. When Flight Lieutenant K. H. ‘Ken’ Foster and crew on ML783/H on 201 Squadron at Pembroke Dock shared in the destruction of a U-boat on 30 April it the last kill of the war. At about 0800 hours while flying at 1,000 feet over the Irish Sea, the 1st pilot and front gunner sighted a cloud of white smoke issuing from the sea. It was from a grey object 1½ feet in diameter and projecting about two feet and moving at 12-15 knots. During and attempted attack the Sunderland’s port bomb rack jammed against the bomb door and could not be freed. The aircraft’s crew fired at the schnörkel which submerged. Sonobuoys were released to detect any U-boat but only water noises were heard. A frigate nearby was informed and a square search was carried out. At 1133 hours the 2nd pilot sighted spray and white smoke 2½ miles away and when the Sunderland was flying at 500 feet. The port bomb rack was wound out manually and six DCs were released from 70 feet. Foster said later:

‘After we got the contact at 0810, the bomb doors failed to open and we had to attack with the fixed and turret machine-guns. We signalled Group that contact was lost - nothing. At 0915 we asked for instructions - again nothing. At 1000 we sent ‘resuming patrol’. When we regained the contact at 1135 we hand-lowered the bomb racks and straddled the target’s course with our attack. We sent further signals to Group and again asked for instructions with again no reply. At 1235 we got the message ‘comply with my 1135’. What flaming signal? I think it turned out that my WOP just received that signal as we were banging out a sighting report at 1135, put it under his folder and forgot about it. When we got home it was rockets all round, not a word of congratulations for the first two submarine attacks for months, although the Navy were very good and sent us a note and a copy of the ASDIC trace.’ ¹⁴⁴

Three frigates were led to the area and after obtaining a bottom contact they attacked at 1900 hours. Diesel, oil, wood and German tins surfaced. The Admiralty credited the sinking of the U-boat to the Sunderland and the 14th Escort Group, determining that it was destroyed as a result of the attack delivered by Hesperus and Havelock. The Air Staff of HQ Coastal Command did not rule out the possibility of lethal damage to the U-boat by a depth charge rereleased from the Sunderland. At first it was thought that the victim was U-242 which was claimed destroyed off Holyhead but which had disappeared with all 44 hands after hitting a British mine on 5 April. It seems that Foster’s and the 14th Escort Group’s victim was U-246, commanded by 38-year old Ernst Raabe which was on its second war cruise having left Bergen on 21 February and it went down in the Irish Sea with all 48 hands. ¹⁴⁵

On the morning of 10 May one of the first U-boats to surrender to the Allies was sighted and escorted by Sunderland ‘N’ on 461 Squadron captained by Flight Lieutenant R. C. Allardyce. The first pilot, Pilot Officer F. Robinson DFM, sighted the fully surfaced U-boat fifteen miles on the starboard bow in the Bay of Biscay and Allardyce prepared for an attack if the U-boat commander disregarded Allied orders and opened fire. The Sunderland drew closer and circled the U-boat and the crew distinguished two flags, the swastika and the black flag of unconditional surrender. On the bridge and along the foredeck about twenty Germans stood rigidly to attention as the flying boat passed over. Fifteen minutes later the RAAF flying boat was joined by an RAF Sunderland and the two flying boats remained with the U-boat until two destroyers arrived to take it to port. Two days later, K/461 was also on patrol when yet another U-boat was sighted, but the appropriate symbol of surrender was not in evidence, so the captain of the aircraft, Squadron Leader R. R. Alexander DFC immediately began to make a long, shallow bombing run on the submarine. With his crew at action stations, ready for what appeared to be an imminent outcome, the Australian skipper called it off and climbed for height when the U-boat raised its small, black flag at the last possible moment. Alexander maintained height, circling the submarine until ships of the Royal Navy appeared and escorted the reluctant U-1010 to port in Scotland. This was the last operation for 461 Squadron, which was formally disbanded on 20 June.

Meanwhile, on 3 June, a Sunderland crew made Coastal Command’s last air escort of the war in Europe. ML778/NS-Z - by coincidence the identification letter of the war’s last air escort was the last in the alphabet - flown by Wing Commander J. Barrett DFC was airborne at 1643 hours to escort convoy HX358 of 51 merchant and escort vessels. ‘Z for Zebra’ was met at 2121 hours and escorted until 0019 hours on 4 June. She was at that moment the only aircraft airborne in the whole command. In the crew of thirteen were two Australians, Flying Officer L. F. Williams, second wireless operator and Flight Sergeant R. J. L. Armstrong, a Canadian and a New Zealander. The patrol ended when ‘Z for Zebra’ alighted on Lough Erne in Northern Ireland, in the early hours of 4 June. The Admiralty signalled Coastal Command that no further escort for shipping would be needed after midnight that night. ¹⁴⁶