A Night to Remember (Part 3 of 4)

The Master Bomber’s voice is clearer now saying “Bomb the red and green TIs, the marking is good”, as we slowly, oh so slowly advance towards that huge dome of fire. Exploding anti-aircraft shells sparkle in clusters like iron fillings dropped in a flame, just at our level but still a little ahead. The fires below begin to reflect a glow on the under side of the aircraft and other Lancasters come into view like little black toys silhouetted over the fires of the target. “Bombaimer to Pilot, starting the run up now, we’re a bit to port, Right-Right” “Roger Bombaimer, over to you” “Roger, Bombdoors open skipper” My left hand drops to the lever and selects, Bombdoors open “Roger, Bombdoors open” A slight change of trim as the two massive doors under the aircraft open, fluttering into the slip stream and a tremble comes up through the controls. Everything has to be very steady now, keep the heading and airspeed correct. Airspeed steady at 175, heading 071 degrees, steady, steady. A sudden change will upset the Bombsight and we will miss the target. “Right Right” says the Bombaimer and I respond with a slight pressure on the starboard rudder pedal and the direction indicator swings slowly through two degrees. “Steady” responds the Bombaimer. I hold it at 073 degrees, brilliant flashes in the target area as bombs burst sending out concentric ripples in the fires below. The tension mounts everybody seem to be holding their breath...CRUMP..CRUMP.. two shells burst near enough to be heard above the roar of the engines and the aircraft jumps. Steady, check airspeed, check the heading, OK. “Left-left” calls the bombaimer, “Steady-steady”, as the red and green TIs slowly creep up the wire on his bombsight. Flashes from exploding shells seem to be all around us now, the Bombaimers instructions become more frequent, “right….steady……left-left……steady……steady….s.t.e.a.d.y…..s..t..e..a..d..y - BOMBS GONE!!! ”Donk….Donk….Donk…. go the bombs as they are released from their hooks and the aircraft rears up as its massive six ton load drops away. Trim nose down to keep the airspeed steady, check the heading, keep her steady now for a long , oh so long, two minutes, while the flak bursts seem to be getting closer and closer, until the photo flash goes off and the camera takes a picture of where our bombs would strike. Then “BOMB DOORS CLOSED” from the Bombaimer. “Bomb doors closed” I reply as my left hand pulls up the lever and my right hand pushes the control column forward to build up speed while the Flight Engineer pushes the throttles forward. You can sense the massive release of tension in the crew as the engine’s roar takes on a higher note and the airspeed builds up to get away from the target area and out of the flak as fast as possible.

Check the crew, “Pilot to crew, everybody OK? Rear Gunner?” “Rear Gunner OK Skip” “Mid Upper” “Mid Upper OK Skipper” and so on. “Right chaps, everybody’s OK , let’s go home”

“Navigator to Pilot, turn onto 297 Compass” “Roger Navigator 297 Compass, airspeed 195” “Roger Skip, airspeed 195, I’ll give you the time to the next turning point in a minute” “Roger, Navigator”. There’s comfort in the steady drone of the engines now and quite an elated feeling at having survived another target and we’re on our way home. Suddenly the Mid Upper shouts “FIGHTER” I slam on full left rudder, control column forward and hard to port, his guns begin to chatter and instantly the plane is shaken by a series of dull thumps. What a strange noise… WE’VE BEEN HIT! A brilliant yellow-orange light fills the cockpit.
“ Starboard Outer’s on fire Skipper” shouts the Engineer, “There’s a bloody great flame going past the Tailplane” Shouts the Mid Upper. “OK chaps, settle down,- Pilot to Engineer, feather the Starboard Outer and push the fire extinguisher”. “OK Skip -----------Fire’s still burning Skip”…... “Shit!” Thoughts rush through my mind as I continue to throw the aircraft about in a corkscrew to avoid the fighters. We must be a choice target now, lit up in the night sky like a flaming comet and if we don’t get this fire out we have HAD IT! “Engineer to Pilot, it looks like a fuel fire, ----if we turn off the fuel to the Starboard side we might be able to starve it but it will mean feathering the Starboard inner engine as well” “ OK engineer try that!” “Pilot to Crew, anybody hurt?” “Rear Gunner, OK Skip but my turret’s U.S.” “Mid Upper’s OK but so is mine.” “OK Gunners keep your eyes skinned for that bloody fighter and just give me directions to avoid it” “OK Skipper”. “Special OK” “Navigator OK” “Wireless OK Skip” “Bombaimer OK Skipper” “Good show chaps -------What the hell is happening Engineer? “Starboard Inner’s feathered Skipper!” “So has the bloody Port inner, I’ve only got one engine left!!” The Engineer looks puzzled and runs his eyes over the controls and instruments and I think I catch a glimpse of a shrug of his shoulders.
Is it getting darker?-------------- I think it is!----------- “The fire’s going out Skip!!!!” “Thank God for that, Engineer, I think I can stop corkscrewing now, Pilot to Gunners, shout as soon as you spot a fighter, and tell me which direction to corkscrew!” “Rear OK Skip” “Mid Upper OK”.

We’ve lost a lot of height over that and we are now down to 10000ft and all on our own well below the bomber stream and won’t be able to maintain that on just one engine. My left leg is aching with the pressure required to keep the aircraft straight against the uneven thrust of the one outboard engine. I become conscious of the sweat on my back and a dryness in my mouth and a growing determination to get this lot back. Please God, I don’t want to end up in a prison camp. “Pilot to Engineer, as soon as the fire has cooled down we will have a go at starting up the Starboard Inner, meanwhile let’s see if we can get this Port Inner wound up, we’re losing too much height like this.” “OK Skipper”. “Pilot to Navigator let me have a new heading for home as soon as you can, we are down to 10000ft now so there will probably be a different wind, you will have to take a guess on where we are now”. “Navigator to Pilot, hold onto 297 Compass while I work something out” “Roger Navigator”. “Engineer to Pilot, starting up Port Inner now”. “Roger Engineer”. The big propeller by my left hand window slowly begins to turn as it becomes unfeathered, a couple of blue flashes from the exhaust and she winds up to 1200 revs to warm up before opening up to cruising power. Everything appears OK and I get the thumbs up from the Engineer. Another hurdle over!

“Engineer to Pilot, we seem to be losing a lot of fuel from number one Starboard tank, I think it must have been holed. I’m switching all engines to that tank” “OK Engineer, have we lost much?” “Three or four hundred gallons I’d guess” “Christ! we’d better start leaning out or we shall never get back, I don’t fancy a swim in the North Sea after all this”. “OK Skipper I think we can have a go at starting up the Starboard Inner now” “OK turn on the fuel to that side but if the fire starts up again shut it down straight away” “Roger”. Everybody has their fingers crossed as the propeller out of the right hand window begins to turn and the engine slowly comes to life and as she comes up to cruising power a blessed relief is given to my left leg as the thrust becomes more even and I can trim it out. Another blessed relief is enjoyed by all when the Starboard Outer remains dark.

“Pilot to Crew, OK chaps we’ve now got three engines again which should get us home alright, if we are careful with the fuel. We are 10000ft, well below the Bomber stream and we can’t afford the fuel to climb up and anyway we’re not really sure where we are. All the
guns are out of action and it looks as though we have lost all our hydraulics, so keep your eyes skinned for fighters. “Rear Gunner to Pilot, my eyes are smarting and I’m soaked in bloody petrol”. “Pilot to Rear Gunner, I think that some of the fuel we lost has been sucked into your turret, hang in there as long as you can”. “OK Skipper”. “Navigator to Pilot, I can’t get a fix on anything and I’m not sure exactly where we are so hang on to 297 until we can get a fix” “Pilot to Navigator Roger 297 it is”. “Pilot to Engineer, let’s reduce the power to zero boost and 2000 revs “. “OK Skip” “ That should give us about 160 at this height” the engine notes become softer and return to the steady drone as the Engineer adjusts the pitch controls to synchronize the remaining three engines. All appears quiet and very black outside as the airspeed settles to 160. “Navigator to Pilot, at this speed, it should be just over the hour to the coast”. “ Roger Navigator, it’s going to be a bloody long hour” “Pilot to crew, did you hear that chaps, keep your eyes open and your fingers crossed” Onward we drone long minute after minute through the darkness with every body deep in their own thoughts, nerves stretched to breaking point. The Engineer over my right shoulder is busy with his glow worm of a torch and his fuel log working out the consumption, the Navigator busy trying to get his Gee set to work and give us a fix to find out where we are and the gunners manually winding their turrets from side to side to search the inky black sky for any signs of enemy fighters. “Pilot to Special, are your sets still working?” “Special, yes Skipper but there’s not much going on locally, we seem to be on our own” OK Special, let’s hope it stays that way”. “Pilot to Bombaimer can you see the ground?” “ Nothing worth while Skipper, I’ve been trying to get a fix on something but so far, no good”. “OK Bombaimer, keep looking” On and on we fly though the night on the heading of 297, heading for the coast of mainland Europe, but which part? Any minute we could fly into a heavily defended area, be coned in searchlights and be the sole target for all the flak, heavy and light, at this level. “Engineer to Pilot, we’ve used up all the fuel in number one starboard tank now and switched to Number one port. We seemed to have enough fuel for just over an hour and a half at these settings” “Roger Engineer, Navigator, would you like to take a guess at our ETA for Base?” “Navigator to Pilot my guess is about one hour fifty” “Roger Navigator, that seems a bit tight”.

One and a half hours of fuel and hour fifty to Base…… it looks as though we should go for an alternative. Without hydraulics, no flaps, possibly no brakes and a chance of a dodgy undercarriage an emergency field seems to be the answer. “Pilot to Navigator, if we can get a fix on the coast we had better set a course for Woodbridge we might need their two mile runway”. “OK skipper we should be getting near the coast in about ten minutes ”. “ Pilot to Bombaimer keep your eyes on the ground for some kind of fix” “OK Skip”. “Engineer to Pilot, there’s some flak way over to starboard” “Roger, might be the main stream”. Minutes drag by with all eyes searching the darkness for some point of recognition. How long can our luck hold out. Where the hell is that coastline? It must be coming up soon! Can we slip out over the sea without being attacked by a fighter or run into defended area? “Pilot to Engineer, what’s the fuel state?” “OK Skipper ’should get us to Woodbridge”. Where’s that coast line? I’m getting anxious now, check the heading for the hundredth time-- yes OK on 297 Compass. Perhaps we’ve got a stronger headwind at this level. A crackle on the intercom, somebody switches on their mike. “Bombaimer to Pilot, I can see some water down to starboard” “Good show Bombaimer can you identify anything?” “No Skipper, it’s wide….. not just a river…… hold on there’s another bit of coast coming up…. it’s an island…..it’s big……Christ it’s Walcheron! We’re going to go right over it”.

“Pilot to crew, at least we know where we are chaps, Navigator let’s have a course and ETA for Woodbridge” “OK Skipper “. Suddenly a hundred searchlights pierce the night sky forming what looks like an impenetrable fence of light. Now they start to move and sway
about and three or four move in our direction. One sweeps across towards us and a heave on
the controls into a diving turn to starboard and it sweeps past our port wing, hard over to port as another comes in from that direction…. missed us, a steep climbing turn to the right and, dam! One catches us, like a moth in a flame, the whole cockpit is lit up with a brilliant blue-white light. Immediately five or six others join in and we are coned, a sitting target for all the guns on the island………….. No guns fire! Not one! That could only mean that there are fighters in the vicinity and the searchlights are holding us as a sitting target for them. I’ve got to get out of these lights. Another heave on the controls into a vicious diving steep turn to port down, down, then over to the right with the airspeed screaming and the altimeter going through eight thousand feet then hard over to the left again and a pull back on the control column into a climbing turn to the right and suddenly it’s dark again and we’re out of their clutches. Thank God that starboard wing, which must have been weakened by the fire, held on. The lights continue sweeping and searching as we weave our way through them anticipating their next move, diving and turning to avoid being caught again. I can see the edge of the island now just down on the port side. Nearly through and out to sea. Now what? All the searchlights have laid down their beams pointing straight out to sea along our route out. “Pilot to Gunners, look at the lights, they’re showing the fighters which way we are going, keep you eyes skinned for them” “Reargunner OK Skip, Midupper OK Skip” We’re now down to five thousand feet and keeping up a gentle corkscrew. “Pilot to Navigator, after that bit of excitement, have you got that heading?” “Navigator to Pilot, Compass Course for Woodbridge is 280, and 44minutes to run. “Roger Navigator 280 Compass and 44 minutes” “Pilot to Engineer, how’s the fuel?” “Engineer to Pilot, we’ve got about 170 Gallons left, enough for about 68 minutes” “ OK That gives us a little in reserve, but not much”. “Pilot to Crew, everybody OK? How’s the eyes Reargunner? “OK Skipper, a bit sore” “Glad you were able to stick it out, not long now, but don’t relax too much they will still be after us, Midupper OK?” “OK Skipper” “Bombaimer OK? Good bit of map reading there”. “Bombaimer OK Skip” “Pilot to Wireless operator, call up Woodbridge and ask for an emergency landing, our ETA will be 0246hrs”. “Wireless to Pilot, Roger ETA 0246hrs”.

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