A Night to Remember (Part 1 of 4)

A Night to Remember by Ron Homes

It's the morning of the12th August 1944, on the RAF Bomber Station, Ludford Magna in Lincolnshire. The base of 101 Squadron, 1 Group, Bomber Command, a Special Duties Squadron with aircraft fitted with “Airborne Cigar” a highly secret radio counter measure for disrupting the enemy night fighter’s radio controllers transmissions. Our eighth crew member being the “Special Operator” to operate the set.

The village of Ludford Magna is completely surrounded by the RAF Station with the living quarters on one side of the main road which runs through the centre of the little village and the massive aerodrome on the other. We RAF types feel completely integrated with this rural community with the slow steady pace of the countryside infusing us with a sense of security. The sun is shining, the weather looks fine and the morning air is heavy with the scent of new mown hay and life seems very sweet.
With a jolt we wake to reality. Our names are on the Operations Board for tonight! There it is! Aircraft N2 (Nan squared) Pilot P/O Homes, Navigator F/O Kabbash, Flight Engineer Sgt Waind, Bombaimer Sgt Wade, Wireless Operator Sgt Davidson, Special Operator Sgt Holway, Midupper Gunner Sgt Reynolds, Rear Gunner Sgt Smith. Oh hell! That means that our own Lancaster L,love, is still unserviceable. We've done our last two ops in N2 and we don't really like it. You develop a fondness for your own aircraft, it just feels right and although on the face of it all the aircraft appear identical they feel different and you get the "feel" of your own. Perhaps it's the confident relationship one builds up with your own ground staff, for you know that they are totally conscientious in their work and they are truly a part of your team..
The change of aircraft does nothing to settle that nasty empty sinking feeling in the stomach, and the thoughts of whether you will see this sunshine tomorrow have to be quickly dismissed. Don't think like that! Think of something else! Anything, but don’t show your fear.!!! Right! Let's get the crew together and cycle out to the aircraft and give it a flight check All the crew must check over their equipment to make sure that it's fully operational for tonight, and the aircraft may have to be flown to make sure she is completely airworthy before she is loaded up with fuel, bombs and ammunition for the trip.
The butterflies in the stomach seem to be settling down a bit, now that we have a job to do to take one's mind off the coming night. Our proficiency in our respective jobs and the camaraderie between us helps to build up our confidence. The jokes are a little too loud and a rather forced, but they will get worse as the day goes on as the anxiety gnaws at our insides and we strive to put a brave face on it. The aircraft is OK but we still have the rest of the long day to get through before briefing at 19.30hrs. So let's go and have some lunch.......... but somehow I don't really feel like eating!

We set off around the perimeter track on our bikes and already the bowsers, heavy with fuel, are approaching the aircraft to fill up their tanks with thousands of gallons of 100 octane fuel. Following them come the 'trains' of bomb trolleys with the various bombs on board and being towed by tractors. We try to find out what the fuel and bomb loads are, and from that, get some idea of what the target might be, but it's not very conclusive. We shall just have to wait until we get to briefing to find out.

Back at the mess the smell of food being cooked is a bit hard to take and I would rather go to the bar for a stiff drink but I need to keep off the booze in order to keep a clear head for tonight. Just take a deep breath and go into the dining room and try to do justice to the steak and kidney pie and mash and boiled cabbage,......oh dear!!
More banter and jokes around the table helps to renew the flagging appetite and the meal begins to seem quite appetising and with a full stomach I might be able to manage a little sleep this afternoon. I really should try, because it will probably be near dawn tomorrow before I have a chance to sleep again. Oh dear, I wonder what will happen between now and then? I wonder if there will be a "then"????

Back in the "Nissan hut" accommodation, all is surprisingly quiet, maybe everyone is trying
to get some sleep. It's pleasantly warm with the sun shining on the corrugated iron roof, sometimes it can get unbearably hot, and sometimes damned cold. I can hear the birds singing outside and the low drone of Merlin engines being run up on the other side of the village. It has a comforting sound, powerful and warm and reliable..........

The noises in the next room wake me, it's just before four o'clock and I've been asleep for an hour and a half and I'm feeling drowsy and comfortable and then I remember....... that damned sinking feeling hits my stomach again. Briefing is at seven thirty, which leaves just two and a half hours before we get our pre-ops meal of egg and bacon.

Its just a short walk down a gravel path to the Mess in the warm August afternoon sunshine and somewhere behind all the Nissan huts further up on the hill a tractor is working in one of the fields and its muted engine noise joins in with the bird song and the warm air is full of the heavy smell of new mown grass. Life seems so good and you wouldn't think there was a bloody war on but for the increasing noise of activity from the airfield on the other side of the village. I wish I didn't have to fly tonight!
The Mess is very quiet, everybody subdued and deep in their own thoughts, most of the armchairs are occupied with lounging figures pretending to read well thumbed copies of Flight and Picture Post or yesterday's papers, but finding great difficulties in concentration. Two or three chaps are at the small tables around the edge of the room, writing letters, sometimes gazing into space seeking inspiration. What can you write about other than what fills your mind; tonight’s operation and the chances of survival but that must not be mentioned.. There's a copy of Tee-Em and an empty armchair which I soon make use of and get lost in the antics of 'Pilot Officer Prune', the feather brained pilot who puts up every flying 'black' in the book. Then suddenly I'm drawn back to the real world by my Navigator sinking into the next armchair with his friendly Canadian greeting 'Hi'. "Hello Alex, have you been sleeping", "Awe no" he tells me, he's just taken a walk down to the farm to see if there were any jobs to do, but Mr Martin was out in the fields, probably driving the tractor that I heard earlier, but I guess it filled in a bit of the time for him in these long empty anxious hours before an operation.
The minutes drag by until it's time for the six o'clock news on the Home Service of the BBC. The radio is switched on and the precise well rounded voice of the announcer tells us of the successes of the armies as they push their way into France, and that, last night a strong force of Lancasters and Halifaxes attacked targets in the Ruhr and extensive damage was done to oil refineries and marshalling yards. I wonder where we shall be going in just a few hours time. Soon it's time for the eggs and bacon. The faces begin to look less worried for everybody knows that it's the other chaps that don't come back, not you. Anyway the food is comforting and the atmosphere is full of high spirits, even though a little false.

"B flight bus is outside!" shouts somebody from the dining room door. A hundred or more chair legs scrape the floor and a crowd make for the door to grab their hats in the scrum in the hall. It's amazing how most people manage to get their own hats when they all look alike. Outside the sergeants are streaming out of their Mess across the road and gathering together in groups with their officer crew members and a lively chatter of speculation develops as they board the buses to take them down to briefing. Not long now to find out what the target is!

As we all file into the briefing room all eyes go to the big map on the wall to see where the red ribbon goes to. Where is it ? Frankfurt? Mainz? The loud general chatter and the scraping of chairs as the crews get themselves grouped together at the tables is suddenly silenced by the arrival of The AOC, The Base Commander G/Cap King, and the Squadron
Commander W/Com. de la Everest. Everybody stands until brought to ease by the Squadron commander who steps up to the briefing platform with the words "Tonight's target is Russelsheim here between Mainz and Frankfurt" as he points to the spot on the map, with a long pointer "It's the Opel motor works that we have to flatten gentlemen, in order to reduce Hitler's already shortening war supplies ever further". "There will be 450 aircraft on the raid and as usual this squadron will be timed to be spaced evenly through the bomber stream. Start engines at 21.00hrs for take-off at 21.30hrs. Climb on track for Skegness where you will join the main stream at your allotted times. Climb on track again to be at this point on the Dutch coast at 18000ft, then on to the next turning point here (again the stick taps the chart) when you should be at your bombing height of 21000ft"........and so on. Then follows the Met man with news of fair weather, then the Navigation leader emphasising the importance of staying on track and in the stream and on time to the half minute, then the Intelligence officer with warnings of heavily defended areas to avoid, "the run into the target will be from the north-west between Mainz and Frankfurt so hold your track to avoid these areas". Then the Bombing leader and the Flight engineering leader and the Gunnery leader all with their instructions and words of warning, set your watches, and finally a word of encouragement from the AOC, "hit the target hard and good luck chaps".

There's a look of determination on some of the faces now. We know the job and how to do it. This is what we have been trained for and we feel confident. The general chatter gets louder as we all file out of the briefing room to walk to the Locker Room to get kitted up for the trip. For most of the crew it's just flying boots, a sweater and silk scarf, Mae West and a parachute. Let's hope that we don't have to use them. The gunners and special-operators have to put on heavier, warmer gear. It's colder in their part of the aircraft. Pockets are emptied of letters, bus tickets, cinema tickets and anything that could be of use to enemy intelligence in the event of being shot down. I notice Smithy, our rear gunner, slip his 'lucky' wishbone into his top pocket before he struggles into his thick, yellow, electrically heated suit and he catches my eye with a shy grin on his face. I hope it works! I mean, the wishbone.
All kitted up and ready to go we file out to the crew buses to take us out to the aircraft.

The buses trundle around the perimeter track full of noise and ribald remarks. Nerves are stretched to breaking point now. It's funny how you feel chilly and a little shivery at this point regardless of the temperature, but it will be all right when we get on board the aircraft.
We drop off the crews at their respective aircraft with loud shouts of "farewell" and "good luck" and "see you in the morning". Then the shout of "Nan Squared" means that we have arrived at our dispersal. In the cool half light of the evening, the aircraft stands there, big, black and menacing against a turquoise sky. The ground crew greet us with small words of assurance as to the airworthiness of the aircraft and Stan, our Flight Engineer, and I go around the aircraft doing the external checks. Pitot head covers removed, all cowlings, inspection panels and leading edges secured. Check tyres for creep. We climb aboard to our respective positions, checking escape hatches, etc etc. Inside the aircraft there's that familiar smell of cellulose, oil and 100octane fuel. Checking more equipment in the fuselage as we climb the steep slope forward and struggling over the main spar, our minds are beginning to get to grips with the task ahead. Settling into the pilots seat on the parachute, buckling it on and doing up the seat belt, my hands are shaking a bit and none of the buckles seem to go together easily. The seat seems a bit hard and a bit too low. I adjust it and that seems to be more comfortable. Helmet on, plug into the intercom and connect the oxygen, check the instrument panel, switch on radio and check the intercom.

20.50hrs, ten minutes to start up and all the crew are now in there positions with their equipment checked. Switch on intercom, "Pilot to Rear gunner OK?" "Rear gunner OK
Skip", "Pilot to Mid upper OK?", "Mid upper OK", "Pilot to Special OK?, "Special OK", "Pilot to Wireless Operator OK?", "OK Skip", and so on checking on each of the other seven crew members in turn. "OK Engineer it's 20.58hrs and we're ready to start up". "OK Skip ground/flight switch to Ground, Trolley Acc is plugged in, Engine controls set, Fuel OK". " Right start up number one", the big prop turns slowly with a whining noise,-- it kicks, and with a cloud of exhaust smoke it bursts into life with that deep throated roar. Number two- three- and four. All engines running now, all gauges OK. "Ground/flight switch to FLIGHT " set engines to 1,200rpm to warm up. Temperatures and pressures building, check hydraulics, Gunners check the movements of their turrets, Wireless Operator checks the radios, Navigator checks the Gee, compass etc etc. All the crew are working like clockwork now, going though the actions that they have been well trained to do. With the work in hand, you can feel the confidence building and the butterflies are being flushed out. Set each engine to 1,500rpm and check magnetos, open up all four engines in turn to zero boost and check the superchargers, check constant speed units. Open up each engine in turn to takeoff power and check boost, rpm.and magnetos. The whole aircraft shakes and trembles like a huge animal coming to life. All OK throttle back to 1,200rpm and ready to go. "Pilot to Rear gunner, all OK?" "Rear gunner OK Skip", "Pilot Mid upper OK?", "OK Skipper" and so on checking on all the crew in turn once again, a procedure that will be carried out over and over again during the trip. “Right Chaps, we are ready to taxi”.

It's now 21.20hrs and the light is beginning to fade and other Lancasters are starting to roll along the perimeter track, big and black with their navigation lights on, towards the takeoff point. Thumbs up to the ground crew and wave the chocks away and we get a good luck wave back as we open up the throttles and trundle forward onto the perimeter track to take our place in the queue for take off. The usual group of well wishers are gathered by the signals hut at the end of the runway. All ranks, Officers, Airmen and Waafs, all with friends and loved ones taking off into the evening sky, perhaps, never to be seen again. An experience that could be shattering in any normal times, but they have all learnt to steel themselves and put on a cheerful smile and a wave to give us confidence, and they repeat this performance night after night.

All pre-takeoff checks have been done, we now roll heavily forward to the hold position straight and lined up with the runway and brakes on. The cockpit is flooded with a green light from the Aldis lamp.as the signals hut gives us the OK to takeoff.

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