We left England on 2^nd January 1942 and on 23^rd reached our destination at a drome in South Sumatra.  This trip out was all sand and sea, sand-sea until we hit Burma and then it was sea and jungle. Maps and wireless were almost entirely useless from then on luck and good guesswork taking us on.

We hung on in the jungle there until the first week of February.  When all our remaining crews went to Palembang as a labour squad.

Here we unloaded ships, just south of the line, the coolies having packed up when the bombing started.

By then Malay was in Jap hands and they were pounding us.  On Friday 13^th we had a severe raid.  The next morning was free for me and I went to buy a watch. The sirens went before I reached the shop. I returned to the billets and there we got the order “Paratroops grab guns and get up the road”. I swiped a 303 rifle and jumped a truck.  We unloaded and formed a road block hiding in the ditches and swampy jungle .  Jap aircraft were everywhere with a few of our fighters unable to land on the occupied drome wandering aimlessly around.

A Dutch armoured car passed by with cries of good luck.  Two minutes later a white flare .  The Japs had thrown a bomb into the car killing the Dutch crew. Later, we were withdrawn and later still, about 11pm, I was detailed with 6 men to hold the far side of the ferry. (Everything had to cross the river that way).  The order was “General Evacuation” For five hours I hung on there watching the stream of men going south. Firing was still going on over the ???.  The AA fellows held out, using shrapnel at close range and by the late afternoon the drome was cleared by some of our people and the Dutch. At about 5 o’clock I was told to return to the billet, pack my kit and hang on till next morning.  We “found” food and did what we could for the wounded.  The civilians carried on wonderfully. By now, most of our people had gone.

Late that night the remaining guns and stores were blown up and during the night the oil wells were fired.

We slept but little.  By dawn next day the oil wells and stores were belching black smoke and the sky was obscured by it.  Orders were “every man for himself” .  I packed a bag of clothes, a small satchel of books  letter and my log book and with a cape, water bottle, rifle and ammo I set out. Across the road a soldier was smashing a spirit stove up.  He was rolling drunk and was holding each bottle up and hitting it with a hammer.  The Dutch stood and watched us go,  I never felt so small in all my life.  By the time I reached the ferry the bombers were circling in the smoke while fighters kept breaking out to machine guns.  The river was full of equipment.

At the far side we set out to walk 3 miles to the railhead, a single line of troops on each side of the road, every few minutes we dived into the ditches to escape a low flying Zero then out again and on.  At the railway they said it might be hours before a train left .  Later we got a lorry and went south. We saw many lorries off the road n the flooded fields and one hurricane crash landed when the field was occupied.  Eventually we reached our original base , the aircraft had run out of bombs attacking the incoming invasion fleet and were tying USA type bombs onto their racks and using the guns.  Our officers – we had got together by then – left us and n the twilight I got into an Australian Squadrons petrol bower, with my kit all in a bus,  I did not see that again.

South again, through the dark with the clouds lit by great fires.  After midnight I was dumped out at  rail siding and stowed away among crates in a steel wagon.  I went to sleep and later found that we were moving.

We reached a small port around 10am.  Dozens of new American civil cars were standing about in various stages of wreckage.  The Dutch families drove there and then wrecked their lovely cars and pushed them into the water.  Cigarettes were available in thousands  for all who cared to carry them.   I finally passed through dock sheds piled with every sort of goods including the civilians heavy stuff and into a tiny coasting vessel.  Below deck was crowded with civilians, white and brown, we were on deck the whole time.  At night I used my ammo pouch and cap for a pillow and wedged myself as best as possible , the tiny boat made very rough going of it.  By next day we were very hungry but only a little rice and tinned herring were available eaten out of dirty fish tins.  Why no one was poisoned I know not, water was almost unobtainable.  A baby was born between the decks.  We washed in a little sea water, our beards were pretty good.  Three of us, an Aussie, a Canadian and I talked of our own countries and they laughed about our fireplaces in bedrooms.  On the third day we anchored off harbour .  A cruiser of the Dutch navy came in she was to be sunk next week, later we crept up the channel and docked.

Here the Dutch efficiency was at its best , a special train was waiting and away we went.  I slept on the floor under the seat.  Sometime during the night we stopped at a station and our Dutch friends had trucks waiting to take us to a school.  Here we found heaven – cocoa sandwiches and clean straw to sleep on.  Next morning we managed a wash and shave , the first for a week, still the same clothes however., then down town to eat a square meal, the receipt went home some time ago.  Poerwockerts – I think that’s right.

I met a Dutch soldier who spoke good English in a room at the station with views of Lincoln on the walls.  His family lived in Palembang.  What happened to them?  What hope could I give him?  Late at night we got news of our moving next morning.  So to bed again, then off early the next day for a wonderful train journey.   I sat on the observation platform most f the time.  It was a wonderful journey through a wonderful land, but more of that some other time.  Next evening we reached Bataria and I remember the boys (we were with an Australian squadron) all singing Waltzing Matilda outside in the dark.  We went by truck to some army barracks and slept on concrete for a change.  Next morning we did nothing, after giving details of ourselves and our units.  Around 10 o’clock I said “that’s a lot of planes”  Then realised it was too loud a noise for the few kites our folks had left.  The sirens went soon after the raid began.  I “borrowed” a steel helmet (still have it) and spent an hour down a hole watching an odd dog fight or so.

During the fun we were rounded up and as the all clear went we boarded trucks for the station again, this time by the super electric railway to the town where our unit was stationed.  Next morning to the drome and a fleet of Jap bombers escorted by Zeros swooped over and we thought we were going to be left alone in peace until the fighters and spent 45 minutes blowing up our kites.  Hoods open, hair streaming in the breeze they had wizard fun – no opposition.  I too had great fun with a tree as protection.  I had to see where the next one was coming and dodge round the tree to the other side – very exhausting.  After that we hung around several days and then some of us were told we were gong.  As our skipper was ll at the port of arrival our crew was on the list – only complete crews being left, that’s why Scarbrook stayed.

Once again to Bataria where we had to give up all our weapons and I lost the 303 rifle that I had carried so far.  On again in the night  remember I remember seeing the southern cross on one side of the train and the Pole Star on the other.  Very late that night we reached the port and boarded the ship.  It was already packed, our skipper, still ill was there.  The boat was a 2500 ton tramp steamer with room for perhaps 6 passengers nearly 200 of us were crammed aboard.  The deck and two upper holds were already full, so we had to go down to the third hold.

Everyone slept where they could always on iron, and being around crossing the line, it was pretty hot.  I slept without any clothes and on 2 towels and always awoke quite exhausted.  We sailed next evening: next day the Jap battle fleet were outside.

We had an uneventful run across the equator to Ceylon.  Food was very low and we had to wait for upwards of 2 hours for every meal.  At first we had 2 meals a day.  Later we had a few biscuits at midday.  Water was low.  After a few days I used to scour the decks and gutterings for odd scraps of biscuits.

A great crowd waited patiently outside the crews cookhouse for anything left over.  Meanwhile the officers had a deck, the top one, to themselves.  Their food was poor but it was well cooked.  We saw nothing of the four padres on board.

On the Sunday we were at Colombo, someone asked if a short thanksgiving service could be arranged.  The padres had all gone ashore.

We took about 10 days to reach Ceylon.  I lost count count but it was around 10.  By then 4 had died and we were all very weak.  We hung around in port for four days before being transferred to a regular troopship – paradise to us.  That took us to Karachi as you know.  There the station C.O addressed the officers and told them that he did not intend his men to be demoralised by “any run away rabble from the Far East”, such was our welcome back to India.

Robert Jefcoate joined the RAF in 1939 having earlier in the year tried to join the RAF Volunteer Reserve but they insisted he had a sinus operation first.

He was a wireless op and trained at Yatesbury, Wiltshire, passing this training in July 1940.  He was then sent to Operational Training unit at Harwell, south of Oxford. Later, posted to squadron 37 at Feltwell. He, and his other crew members survived a right off crash here. He was involved in several bombing raids of Dusseldorf and Cologne amongst other cities.  His log book also shows a lot of times that raids were called off due to bad weather or other operational difficulties. His diary also shows a few fun times, hitching to see his girfriend (later wife), going to the cinema, a concert etc.

May 1941 all bomber command were briefed to attack the Bismark at all costs using B bombs (a sort of mine).  Later this changed to the Prinz.  Awful weather apparantly so no bombing.

In May 1941 they crashed in St Eval harbour, Gibraltar earning Robert a membership of the Goldfish club.

1^st August 1942.  Robert had volunteered to serve overseas as they were asking for radio ops. He flew in a brand new Hudson bomber and was using a totally different radio (Bendix rather than Marconi).  They arrived in Palembourg Sumatra on 23^rd January 1942. On 1^st August there was panic as a Jap naval group was heading to the Bay of Bengal. Every bomber was kitted up, the weather was extremely bad (cyclone) and the bomber in front of Robert’s burst into flames on take off as it hit a road roller because of the the wind.  Luckily the crew bailed out.  They later took off , did their search in high wind and heavy rain.  After 7 hours, fuel was very low and there were no identifiable landmarks.  Robert had tried to radio several times but no reply.  He sent an SOS as fuel was now zero .  They spotted a small island off the coast (Shortts Island), They took up crash positions but landed in the ocean.  Luckily nobody was hurt and they were eventually picked up in a motor boat by local people. So he joined the Goldfish club twice over!

In January 1942 he was posted to what was then Burma.  The journey was disjointed, guess because of refuelling and was as follows:

Gibraltar – Mata

Malta – Cairo

Habbanah (Iraq) – Smarjah (Kuwait)

Smarjah – Karachi (Pakistan)

Karachi – Allahabad

Allahabad – Calcutta

Calcutta – Toungod

Toungod – Rangoon (Burma)

Rangoon – Sabang (indonesia)

Sabang – Packembaroe

Packembaroe – Palembang (Indonesia)

The post Robert Jefcoate’s Diary appeared first on International Bomber Command Centre.

Written by Peter Allam

The word ‘Exodus’ is derived from the Ancient Greek word ‘éxodos’, literally meaning ‘way out’. Known throughout the world as the title of the second book of the Bible, Exodus recounts the release of the Israelites from slavery and their journey to the Promised Land. For obvious reasons, World War Two operation code names were usually chosen which bore no relation to the actual nature of the operation. However, biblically inspired names were occasionally chosen with Operation Manna (the dropping of food to the starving Dutch people) being perhaps the most well-known example. In April and May 1945 RAF Bomber Command carried out another humanitarian operation, the repatriation to the UK of tens of thousands of recently released British and Commonwealth POWs, and for this another wholly appropriate biblical code name was chosen – Operation Exodus.

With the war in Europe obviously entering its final stage, in March 1945 planning began for the soon to be essential and prompt repatriation of the thousands of POWs, who were then still held in a number of camps scattered across Germany. Initial thoughts were centred around seaborne transportation, but it soon became obvious that with the future availability of useable shipping ports still uncertain, this could potentially take much too long and be fraught with difficulties. Inevitably some of the POWs would be in poor health and physical condition, making speed of the essence. Because of this the planning focus which was shared between the British War office and SHAEF (Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force), shifted from evacuation by sea to a huge airlift.

With prisoners spread across Germany it was necessary that a handful of key focal airfields be identified at which the POWs could be assembled prior to air repatriation. In Germany itself, Lübeck on the Baltic coast and Rheine near the Dutch border were both selected, while in Belgium, Melsbroek (nowadays Brussels International Airport) also became a collection point. In France, Juvincourt near Reims and Lille in the northeast of the country completed the Continental airfields. In the UK, a number of Normal and Reserve Reception RAF airfields were identified, the former group including Dunsfold, Ford, Methwold, Seighford, Westcott and Wing, and the latter group Oakley and Tangmere. At each of the reception airfields a hangar was assigned and equipped with all the staff and facilities necessary to receive and process thousands of former POWs. The Red Cross playing a significant role, as did many of the other war relief organisations.

By March 1945, the Dakotas of RAF Transport Command’s 46 Group had already been engaged in casualty evacuation flights for many months, and with the ground war winding down and casualties decreasing, the group’s aircraft were considered eminently suitable for a POW recovery operation. Although not actually a part of Operation Exodus, the air repatriation of POWs began on 3 April when seven 46 Group Dakotas landed with their precious cargo at RAF Oakley near Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire. Although still carrying out airborne operations in Denmark and Norway, a number of 38 Group Stirlings and Halifaxes were also released shortly afterwards, beginning POW flights on 17 and 18 April respectively. Transport Command flights continued for some time, eventually accounting for a total of 58,000 POWs repatriated to the UK.

It was also obvious to all concerned that the massive resources of Bomber Command would also soon become available, and planning began for the use of Lancasters under the code name Operation Exodus. On 26 April, the very same day that 107 Lancasters returned from the RAF’s last heavy bomber raid of WW2 on an oil refinery at Tonsberg in southern Norway, Operation Exodus commenced when Lancasters of 50, 61, 463 & 467 squadrons repatriated dozens of POWs. Although the spartan confines of a Lancaster were less than ideal for carrying passengers, helped by the provision of blankets and cushions, each aircraft was able to carry a maximum of twenty-four POWs. As the Lancasters usually also had their normal crew of seven on board, and even though in many cases the POW’s possessions amounted to nothing more than the clothes they were wearing, thirty-one people squeezed inside a Lancaster is nevertheless hard to imagine.

All aircrew who took part in Exodus were left with some indelible memories, and the author’s father W/O A J ‘Bert’ Allam and his 227 Squadron crew were no exception. Flying their favourite Lancaster Mk.I PA283 9J-J (known to the crew as ‘The Jabberwock’ after the nonsense poem in Lewis Caroll’s ‘Through the Looking Glass’), the crew were assigned an Exodus trip to Brussels in the early afternoon of 10 May. After taking off from their base at RAF Strubby in Lincolnshire and flying directly across the North Sea, landfall was made at the Dutch island of Walcheren, as Bert Allam recalled in his unpublished memoir:

‘We crossed the shore near the Westkapelle light and flew on over one of the saddest looking scenes we had ever come across. During October, Lancasters of 5 Group broke down the sea wall in several places, and when the Allied offensive was finally launched, German resistance came to an end after only ten days on November 10th. Now, six months later, the island looked very much as it must have done following that November struggle.

Alongside us on the starboard side the untouched sea wall ran southwards forming the only high ground on that side, and way over to port the spires and roofs in a distant untidy cluster marked the corpse of Middleburg – chief town of the island. The entire scene was one of utter desolation. Not a living thing could we see; below us was a dead world; a world of water.

It all seemed so quiet. I know that sounds silly considering we had four Merlins hammering away in our ears, but looking down on the land below it did seem quiet, with no life and not a sign of movement anywhere. Even the sea, having done its worst, seemed content with the havoc it had wrought and was itself lying still. It was perhaps the loneliest sight I have ever seen on earth and surely a symbol of the stupidity of man. For some time, no one said anything. Then at last Matt (Bomb Aimer Denzil ‘Matt’ Matthews) spoke.

“I wonder whether all that was really necessary?” he said.

We didn’t reply. There didn’t seem much to say. We were all a little stunned by it all. This destruction of the land itself – handing back to the sea this expanse of hard-won fertile countryside seemed somehow particularly futile.’

After overflying the southern part of the Netherlands, the crew soon crossed into Belgium, and before long they had arrived at Brussels and joined the circuit at Melsbroek:

‘We didn’t fly right over Brussels but instead made for Melsbroek airfield which we picked out easily when some miles away. There were a number of aircraft in the sky in the vicinity and appeared to be many more parked on the ground alongside the runways. The runway in use was the long one running as far as I remember roughly north-east to south-west, and the direction of landing when we arrived was to the north-east. It ran alongside and almost parallel to the perimeter track, and on that side of field about halfway along its length a column of black smoke rose high into the air from what at first sight appeared to be a small building on fire.

As we flew over it we could see that it was indeed a building of some sort, but the reason for the blaze was a Lancaster which was piled up on top of it. The whole lot was blazing furiously, belching black smoke, and only the tail unit and rear part of the fuselage was now recognisable.

One or two trucks stood nearby whilst a group of men seemed to be doing little – apparently content to let it burn itself out.’

On landing the reason for the crashed aircraft soon became obvious, the heavily bomb damaged and poorly repaired runway being in a terrible state, with a second Lanc also parked at a drunken angle with a burst tyre, close to the worst part of the runway. Incredibly, the same group of twenty-four POWs had been on board both aircraft during the two attempted take offs. In the first incident RA595 of 101 Squadron burst a tyre and ground looped, and then after boarding the second aircraft (ME623 of 97 Squadron), the POWs had a much closer shave when the aircraft swung off the runway, crashed heavily into an airfield building and burst into flames. Although badly shaken, fortunately all on board managed to scramble clear with nothing more serious than bruising.

After being marshalled into their parking spot the crew reported to flying control, in order to receive their instructions for the return flight. As the afternoon wore on it looked as if there wouldn’t be enough POWs to make up a load, and the Allam crew were beginning to look forward to a night on the town in Brussels. However, some of the POWs who had survived the two take off accidents were still on the airfield, and one of the marshalling officers tentatively enquired if any of them felt like seeing England that night. Some quite understandably refused point blank to attempt to fly again, and offered some highly original but unprintable suggestions as to exactly what the RAF could do with their Lancasters, but others were so desperate to get home that they agreed to give it a third try.

Once the POWs had been helped into their ‘Mae Wests’ by the crew and shown to their positions inside the aircraft (each marked by a painted number), the author’s father started up and taxied carefully to the end of the active runway:

‘I went over my vital action check with particular care, and getting permission to take off I released the brakes and slowly eased the Lanc on to the narrow connecting strip. Then I decided to start my take off run from where I was and so gain an extra few yards.

Reaching forward I pulled the boost over-ride lever down to give maximum emergency take off power, and holding the brakes on, opened up to zero boost – then with brakes released pushed the four throttles smoothly forward in a staggered line and on through the gate.

Steve (Flight Engineer Len ‘Steve’ Stevens) locked the throttles as I held the stick well forward to bring the tail up quickly. We raced on down the runway, jolting over the uneven surface – and then it came – a mighty bump which projected the aircraft off the ground as we hit the danger spot. Instantly I eased the stick back and nursed the Lanc along in a mushy half stalled condition a foot or so up, slowly building up the airspeed until we were at last flying comfortably and climbing steadily away – albeit feeling a little unwieldy due probably to the unfamiliar distribution of weight. At least we had made a clean take off and the boys could breathe again.’

A more southerly return route took the Lancaster home across northern France and the English Channel, and after the dramatic takeoff the POWs soon settled down and began to enjoy the trip. The rest of the return flight was uneventful, that is until when nearly across the English Channel the 500ft high white chalk cliffs of the Sussex coast came into view:

‘At last, through the slight haze which surrounded the sun, the English coast appeared as a blur in the distance, and I think we all felt that the moment of the day had arrived.

As many as could crowded forward to catch the first sight of England, and after the initial buzz of excitement, stood watching that smudge of a line gradually merge into the recognisable outline of Beachy Head.

I looked at their faces as they peered out wide-eyed. What were they thinking, I wondered? Steve caught my eye, and I knew instantly that his mind was on the same thing – wondering what it felt like to these poor chaps – seeing once more the country they had left – long ago in many cases, for we had some veterans from Dunkirk and even earlier – and now to which they were returning at last to within reach of their families and homes.

I glanced at some of the aircrew among them. A W/Op from 4 Group. A navigator from our own 5 Group. What were they thinking? When they had last crossed this coast, they were on what was to be their last operational trip.

We were now close in and although the light from the setting sun reflected awkwardly from the water we could see the downs of Sussex quite clearly. Someone pointed out Eastbourne pier and that did it. The spell was broken, and everyone had something to say.

The aircraft was quite a sight just then. We had half a dozen up front by the bomb aimer’s position, more by Steve and Tiger’s bench, some in the astrodome and in the rear and mid upper turrets – and as there were still some who couldn’t see out, I opened the bomb doors as we came over Eastbourne and they took it in turns to look out through the rear inspection panel. It was a grand moment.’

After landing at RAF Westcott in Buckinghamshire (the author’s father recalled that he didn’t think he ever tried harder to make a good landing!), the exhausted but ecstatic and relieved POWs were safely delivered to the waiting reception staff. Although they had only been together for a few hours the Allam crew already felt an attachment to ‘their’ POWs, and it was with some regret that they parted company, before taking off and heading back to Strubby.

‘Several other Lancs were taxying out with nav lights on and mingling with them were the bulky low-slung shapes of the resident Wimpys – off no doubt on a cross-country trip. Watching them rumble out our thoughts went back to our own OTU days. Well, they had a grand night for their cross-country – but they were welcome to it. For us it was home and bed.

Starting up we moved out and filtered into the queue behind a Wimpy and crawled around the perimeter, the blues and ambers of the taxy track peeping through the gaps between the aircraft.

Darkness was well upon us and the aircraft were outlined sombrely against the western sky where the last trace of day was fading.

Sitting on the end of the runway, I warned the crew to stand by for take off, and as the Wimpy ahead of us cleared the distant fence there came a steady green from the caravan and I pushed the throttles forward.

As soon as the wheels lifted, I went into a climbing turn onto course and in a few moments, we were back at a thousand feet and heading homewards.

The night air was still and wonderfully smooth. Having adjusted the trim, the Lanc flew hands and feet off with hardly a tremor of airspeed or compass needle.

Tiger (Wireless Operator Harry ‘Tiger’ Gaunt) leaned over my shoulder and gave a nod of approval. He seemed pleased at something, and it wasn’t hard for me to guess why he was so. It had been a day to remember. A day in which we felt we had done something really worthwhile.

At any rate I know I was quite contented as I sat there letting the Lanc fly herself home.

Tiger was happy. We were all happy. It had been a happy trip.’

Operation Exodus reached its peak in mid-May, at which point over one thousand ex-POWs were arriving in the UK each day, with a Lancaster touching down every four minutes. The airlift eventually came to a close on 4 June, when four 138 Squadron Lancasters collected a final load of POWs from Juvincourt and delivered them safely to Dunsfold. The air repatriation had been a resounding success, and in addition to the aircraft of 38 and 46 Group, a number of British and Commonwealth POWs were also transported by aircraft of the USAAF’s 8^th and 9^th Air Forces. RAF Bomber Command eventually committed forty-seven Lancaster squadrons to Operation Exodus, flying some 3,500 sorties and repatriating 74,195 former POWs, well over half of the eventual total of 132,000 British and Commonwealth servicemen repatriated by air to the UK.

Very sadly this incredible achievement was marred by several fatal accidents; three ground crew, eighteen aircrew and particularly tragically twenty-five former POWs were killed, with ten Lancasters being completely destroyed and another eighteen damaged to varying degrees. It might have been both hoped and expected that with the war over at last, safety was finally within the grasp of all involved with Exodus. But incorrect loading, technical failures, bad weather, unsuitable runways in poor condition and also (regrettably) unauthorised low flying accidents, all played their part in the losses.

In spite of the operation’s success, eighty years on Exodus remains a half-forgotten footnote in the history books, forever in the shadow of the more well-known Operation Manna. And while Bomber Command’s other more famous humanitarian relief operation is rightly commemorated both in the UK and the Netherlands, sadly there remains no known memorial to the POW airlift. But for all those who took part, whether they were former POWs or Lancaster aircrew, the events of April and May 1945 and the name ‘Exodus’ would remain indelibly etched in their memories for the rest of their lives.

The post Op Exodus – 80th Anniversary appeared first on International Bomber Command Centre.

At the Spire unveiling in 2015 I was walking round amongst the veterans towards the end of the day getting some photos. Right at the western edge of the walls the sunlight was gorgeous and I was waiting for a little old very Welsh chap, his little old very Welsh wife and her equally little old very Welsh sister to clear from a wall I wanted to photograph a couple of names on. They were stood there a while having quite an animated discussion, and got the the point of him saying “We can’t find the name, we’ll just go for a cup of tea”. He looked quite disappointed by this, so I stepped across and asked if I might help them, and which name he was looking for. He handed me a bit of paper, so I asked them to wait a minute as it should only be a couple of panels across from where they were. I found it, and led them over to the panel with the name on it.

He saw the name, and ran his fingers across it, and said “De Laveleye, CA – that’s him” I asked him if it was one of his mates and he said “Not really, I didn’t know him. But that should be me there…”

He told me that his crew (the Neilson crew) was posted onto 550Sqn late in February 1945, but just before their first op on March 2nd he was diagnosed with appendicitis and sent off to hospital to have it removed. Sgt De Laveleye volunteered to fly the crew’s first & 3rd ops in his place. They were shot down over Dessau (their 3rd op, on March 7th 1945 in Lancaster ME503) with only Sgt RF Stevens (the rear gunner) & Sgt Finnigan (the flight engineer) surviving as they were blown clear when the aircraft exploded in mid-air at around 3000 feet above Sollnitz. Sgt De Laveleye’s constituted crew (the Jones crew) were also lost that night on the same op in Lancaster PA995.

This was Sgt De Laveleye’s 27th op. He was an experienced air gunner, switching between mid-upper and rear turrets as needed. He was originally posted to 576Sqn in October 1944 on the Rhude crew, but they were transferred to 550Sqn when 576Sqn moved from Elsham Wolds to Fiskerton in November 1944. He continued to fly with the Rhude crew until December 17th, then did 3 sorties with other crews, including the Jones crew, who he joined in February 1945 and flew 10 ops with.

Sgt Charles De Laveleye’s father was Victor, pre-war leader of the Belgian Liberal party, and Minister of Justice for Belgium in 1937. He was also an Olympian, having represented his country at tennis in the 1920 & 1924 summer Olympics. After the fall of Belgium, Victor took his family to France, and then on to Britain after France fell. Victor became the voice of BBC Radio Belgique and the Belgian Government in Exile from 1940 . In one of his broadcasts to the people of occupied Belgium, on 7th January 1941, he urged Belgians to chalk a V on buildings, walls, vehicles, anywhere, to unnerve the Germans and demonstrate resistance & resilience (V for Victoire/Vrijheid – for both the French- & Dutch-speaking regions of Belgium) and to greet each other with a V hand signal. It was a resounding success and spread across occupied France & NL too. 6 months later, in July 1941 Churchill adopted it.

Sgt De Laveleye’s entry on the Losses Database can be seen here

The chap I met at the walls was Sgt Gwilym Evans, who passed away a couple of years ago.

Victor was made minister for public education in Belgium in the first government after Belgium was liberated in September 44, but he was already seriously ill by this stage and stood down a week before Charles was killed. Victor died on 16th December 1945. Post-war, a small park in the Saint Gilles district of Brussels was named in honour of Victor, who had started his political career there as a councillor in the 1920s.

The 550 Sqn Association’s site has the accounts of the two survivors of the incident and aftermath. They were back with 550Sqn on April 7th, a month to the day after being shot down – their PoW camp was liberated by American troops on March 28th. The site also has the investigation report too, which gives the crash site as in a wood about 1 mile east of Sollnitz.  See the information here

Submitted by Graham Platt at Bomber County Aviation Resource

The post Sgt Charles De Laveleye appeared first on International Bomber Command Centre.

The Kingham Crew

This would have been their 27th mission as a crew.

15/06/1944 LL690 JI-J Bombing Valenciennes 23.14 x 00.52

Bomb load 16 x 500 GP, 2 x 500 MC. Primary target: Valenciennes. Aircraft missing.

Shot down 16/06/1944, probably at 00.52 hours by a Bf 110 flown by Oblt. Peter Ehrhardt of 9/NJG5. The aircraft came down between Iwuy (Nord) and Rieux-en-Cambresis, 9 km from Cambrai. Five are buried in Rieux Communal Cemetery, while F/S Hutt is buried at Iwuy Communal Cemetery. Sgt Bloom is commemorated on the Runnymede Memorial.

“Lest We Forget”

————————————————————————————————-

The  Prowles Crew

P/O. Charles Frank “Ted” Prowles.        Pilot.

F/S. Ronald Bernard “Spence” Spencer. RAAF. Bomb Aimer.

F/O. Arnold Hughes Morrison. RAAF. DFC.      Navigator.

Sgt.   Raymond Surtees.                          WOP/Air.

Sgt.   Arthur Albert “Bert” Holmes.      MU/Gunner.

Sgt.   R.D. Keen.                                MU/Gunner.1op

W/O2.William Ernest “Ernie,Bill” Egri. RCAF.DFM.R/Gunner.  1op

Sgt.   John “Jack” Porrelli.               R/Gunner.  13ops

Sgt.   Henry Albert Osborn.              Flight Engineer.

15/6/1944   DS816 JI-O  Valenciennes  23.08

Airborne 2308 15 June 1944 from Waterbeach.  Bomb Load 15 x 500 GP, and 2 x 500 MC. Aircraft missing.

Target: Valenciennes Railway Yards.

Aircraft deployed total: 224

514 Squadron: 20 (1 returned early)

Aircraft lost total: 11

514 Squadron: 2

Comments: A return to rail transport infrastructure on this split two target raid. Both the Lens and Valenciennes targets were bombed accurately. Enemy fighter activity on the Valenciennes target was quite intense which saw the loss of 5 aircraft on this raid, 2 from 514 Squadron.

Missing aircraft:

DS816, JI-O. Shot down, probably at 0051 hours by BF110 flown by Hptm Hubert Rauh of Stab II/|NJG4. Crashed at Croisilles (Pas de Calais) where those who died are buried in the British Cemetery.

The only survivor, P/O Arnold Hughes Morrison later filed the following crash report for the RAAF:

 ‘About eight minutes after bombing the target, we were attacked presumably by a night fighter. Cannon shell raked the port side and the port wing was set on fire. The aircraft was losing height rapidly and at about 8000 feet, the Captain ordered the crew to ‘prepare to abandon’. By 2000 feet, the Air Bomber had not been able to remove the front escape hatch. I am not certain whether the Rear Gunner, Mid Upper Gunner or the WOP had bailed out through the rear escape hatch but the remainder stayed in the aircraft. The pilot landed the aircraft on a fairly flat field and the aircraft disintegrated and was set on fire. I was unconscious for a while, and while still in a dazed condition looked without result to the numerous small fires for the remainder of the crew. I was informed by the Germans that their bodies were in the wreck and buried in the cemetery at Croisilles, France. The funeral was attended by about 2800.’

 The bodies were collected June 16 at 18.00h, under supervision of Mr. Arbeltier Mayor, with the assistance of Mr. Milo, the gravedigger and a few volunteers, and then returned to the village in Horse drawn carrige to Mr. Opigez, led by Henri Pouillaude. The coffin/s were made by Emile and Leon Leport Thorel. Teams for transport and flowers were graciously given by MM. Ancelle Henry Sauvage.

Some 2800 people of Croisilles turned out to honour the dead of DS816, JI-O after it was shot down over the town. The Germans did not intervene to stop this moving tribute to the loss of F/S Ted Prowles and his crew. We can only speculate as to how much of a risk this was for them.

Madame Heller was an area Resistance Leader and a member of “The Comet Line”. She and her husband Ernest were responsible for sheltering and saving at least 21 allied servicemen. After the war, the Heller’s would eventually immigrate to Australia, residing in Queensland for the rest of their lives.

Written by Andrew Porelli, 514 Sqn Association historian

The post Honouring 80th Anniversary of 514 Sqn Crews appeared first on International Bomber Command Centre.

He was born on the 14th October 1916 in Winnipeg, Canada, the son of Polish immigrants.  He had two brothers and three sisters.  His father died when he was only 16 and until he volunteered in the Royal Winnipeg Rifles in 1940, he worked as a Chamois Cutter.  He only served a short time before enlisting in the RCAF and training as a Pilot.

A conspicuous act of heroism

On 12^th June 1944, Lancaster X KB726 from 419 (Moose) Squadron, Royal Canadian Air Force, embarked on a mission to attack the marshalling yards at Cambrai in occupied France.

A Junkers Ju 88 attacked the aircraft, hitting the plane on its fuselage and port engines.

A fire erupted between the mid-upper and rear turrets and rapidly intensified. With both port engines disabled, the captain ordered the crew to bail out.

Pilot Officer Mynarski made his way to the escape hatch. He saw through the flames that the rear gunner, Pilot Officer Pat Brophy, was trapped in his turret.

Without a moment’s thought, Mynarski courageously charged through the engulfing flames to aid the rear gunner and attempt to free him.

Despite Mynarski’s valiant efforts to free Brophy using an axe, the turret remained stuck.

Realising the futility of his attempts, Brophy gestured to Mynarski that he should save himself.

Reluctantly, Mynarski returned through the blaze to the escape hatch. With his clothes and parachute burning, he turned one more time to salute his trapped friend and then jumped into the night.

The burning parachute caused Mynarski to fall rapidly and land hard on the ground in France.

French civilians who had witnessed his fall took him to a German hospital, but sadly, due to severe burns, he passed away the following day.

Miraculously, Pilot Officer Brophy survived the Lancaster crash without serious injuries. It wasn’t until 1945, when Brophy reunited with the rest of his crew, that Mynarski’s heroism came to light.

The courageous airman could have escaped the burning aircraft alive but bravely chose instead to help his trapped comrade.

Legacy

In recognition of his bravery, Pilot Officer Mynarski was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross in 1946. Several statues were erected in his honour, including one outside the former officer’s mess at RAF Middleton St. George and another in Canada near his hometown.

To further commemorate his sacrifice, one of only two flyable Lancasters in the world, FM213 is named the Mynarski Memorial Lancaster. This aircraft is painted in the colours of the Lancaster on which Mynarski flew his final mission.

Mynarski’s legacy endures as a symbol of the highest valour and selflessness, reminding us of the extraordinary courage displayed during the darkest days of World War II.

You can see his entry in the Losses Database here

Find out more about the Canadian Lancaster here

The post P/O Andrew Mynarski VC appeared first on International Bomber Command Centre.

In the early hours of June 6, 1944, 80 years ago, the Allied forces launched the largest amphibious invasion in history, known as D-Day. This monumental operation marked the beginning of the end for Nazi occupation in Western Europe. While the bravery of the ground troops is often highlighted, Bomber Command played an equally crucial role in the success of this operation, both before, during, and after the invasion.

Bombing of German Infrastructure

In the months leading up to D-Day, Bomber Command was tasked with a critical mission: to weaken the German forces in Normandy by targeting and destroying key infrastructure. This involved extensive bombing raids on transport networks, industrial facilities, and airfields to disrupt German reinforcements.

Bomber Command dropped over 5,000 tons of explosives on beach defences around Normandy. On the nights of June 5^th and 6^th, Bomber Command flew 1,211 sorties in support of the invasion. A total of 1,012 aircraft, including 551 Lancasters, 412 Halifaxes, and 49 Mosquitoes, attacked 10 coastal batteries covering the invasion beaches. However, due to cloud cover, the success of these missions was limited.

By June 5, 22 out of 37 rail targets in occupied France were sufficiently damaged, and 15 were severely damaged, effectively crippling the Nazis’ ability to reinforce Normandy by rail. Bomber Command also conducted raids over areas like the Pas de Calais to reinforce the deception that the Allies were planning to invade this area.

Deception Operations

One of the key components of the Allied strategy was to deceive the Nazis about the actual location of the invasion. Bomber Command played a vital role in these deception operations, notably Operations Glimmer and Taxable.

Operations Glimmer and Taxable

Operations Glimmer and Taxable aimed to mislead the German forces into believing that the main Allied invasion was not happening in Normandy. These operations involved sophisticated tactics to create the illusion of invasion forces approaching different locations.

Operation Taxable, the larger of the two, involved 16 RAF Lancaster bombers from 617 Squadron. These bombers flew in overlapping circuits, dropping large quantities of “window” (strips of aluminum) at three-second intervals throughout the night, simulating an invasion force heading towards Cap d’Antifer, 80 km from Normandy. Eight bombers would be replaced by another eight seamlessly to avoid any suspicious gaps on the radar.

The “window” created a large blip on the radar, resembling a large fleet. Additionally, 18 small boats, including Harbor Defense Motor Launches (HDML) and RAF pinnaces, operated jamming equipment and simulated the radio chatter of a large fleet.

Simultaneously, Operation Glimmer involved six Short Stirling bombers, also dropping “window” while flying in circuits. This operation simulated a fleet approaching Pas de Calais. Twelve HDMLs (Task Force B) sailed under the window cloud, carrying jamming equipment, radios, and radar-reflecting balloons.

These deception efforts, part of the broader Operation Fortitude, lasted from midnight to 5 AM on June 6 and successfully misled the Germans about the real location of the landings.

Operation Titanic

Another crucial deception operation was Operation Titanic, which involved dropping dummy parachutists by four squadrons from No. 3 Group RAF. These dummies, nicknamed Ruperts, had explosives attached to them, designed to detonate after landing. The goal was to create the illusion of a paratrooper invasion, causing the Germans to believe that real paratroopers were hiding nearby.

Fireworks and sound effects were also used to simulate the noises of a firefight, further enhancing the deception. This operation added to the overall confusion among German forces, making it harder for them to respond effectively to the actual invasion.

Conclusion

Bomber Command’s contributions to D-Day were critical to the success of the Allied invasion. Through strategic bombing of German infrastructure, effective deception operations, and support for the airborne landings, Bomber Command helped to pave the way for the ground troops who would liberate Western Europe. The bravery and skill of these aircrews played an indispensable role in one of the most significant military operations in history.

To search for those lost on these operations click here

The post D-Day and Bomber Command appeared first on International Bomber Command Centre.

Mailly-le-Camp was a German training camp in northeast France that was important for training the elite Panzer divisions. With the approach of D-Day, destroying Mailly-le-Camp would eliminate the threat posed by the Panzer divisions which could have been quickly mobilised to counter the invading Allied forces. It was one of many missions carried out before D-Day to soften up German forces.

346 Avro Lancasters and 16 de Havilland Mosquitoes, from Bomber Command’s 1 and 5 groups, took part in the raid. The plan was that the mosquitoes, led by Wing Commander Leonard Cheshire, would first mark the target by dropping flares while the Lancasters circled 15 miles away at a meeting point.

Once the target was marked, the bombers would be called in to attack the camp. The bombs were to be dropped from an altitude of 6000 to 8000 feet. To minimise civilian casualties in the nearby French village, this was to increase the accuracy of the bombing and reduce scatter.

However, not everything went according to plan.

The Mosquitoes accurately marked the camp on schedule by dropping flares, but the order to begin bombing could not reach the attacking group. The reasons for this included an American jazz broadcast using the same frequency as the RAF that night, some squadrons using Morse code, and others using radio frequency. Plus, some pilots circling at the meeting point were beginning to get nervous and voice their frustrations despite the need for radio silence.

Due to communication problems, the Lancasters continued to circle around the meeting point longer than necessary. By this time, German night fighters from nearby airfields had been alerted to their presence and began attacking. A three-quarter full moon illuminated the bombers, which helped the German fighters intercept them.

42 Lancasters were shot down in just 30 minutes, which amounted to 11% of the total attacking force. 258 airmen lost their lives.

Nevertheless, the remaining Lancasters eventually received the order to attack. They began dropping their payloads on Mailly-le-Camp –1500 tons of explosives.

Due to the high accuracy and intensity of the bombing, the camp was devastated. The destruction included:

• 114 barrack buildings
• 47 transport sheds
• 102 vehicles, including 37 battle tanks
• 218 men were killed, and 156 wounded

Jack Currie, a Bomber Command veteran, wrote in his book about the Mailly-le-Camp raid:

“What has to be remembered about Mailly-le-Camp is that, with all hell bubbling up around them and their fabric of existence hanging by a thread, the great majority of captains and crews gritted their teeth and waited for the order. In that, they won a greater battle than the one they had been briefed for. And when, at last they were allowed to turn their sights toward the target, there were no more malfunctions and no more mistakes. Then, the bomber crews kept faith with their tradition, and with their comrades – with the fifty-five thousand who had died in other battles, and with those who would fly on until the war was won.”

Images courtesy of https://460squadronraaf.com/

The post Mailly-le-Camp appeared first on International Bomber Command Centre.

Jackson joined the RAF volunteer reserve in 1939 as a classified fitter (engines). However, he preferred to be in the air. Jackson retrained as a flight engineer and, in 1943, joined the 106 Squadron, which was based at RAF Metheringham. A year later, Sergeant Jackson completed his tour of 30 sorties on the 24th of April 1944 and was due to return home. However, because he had flown one sortie with a different crew (filling in for an ill flight engineer), he wanted to fly once more with his usual crew so that they could all finish their tour together.

Jackson’s 31st sortie took place on the 26th of April 1944 aboard Lancaster ME669 “Z-NO”. The target was a German ball bearing factory in the city of Schweinfurt. The bombs were dropped successfully on target, and the Lancaster began climbing out of the target area.

Suddenly, a Focke Wulf 190 attacked the aircraft. The Lancaster sustained multiple hits, causing a fire on the starboard wing dangerously near a fuel tank.

As the flight engineer, Jackson volunteered to tackle the fire. After strapping on a parachute and tucking a fire extinguisher into his flight jacket, he climbed out of the escape hatch in the cockpit’s roof. Upon climbing out, his parachute spilt out into the cockpit. Some crew gathered the parachute and gradually fed it out as Jackson crawled towards the fire.

Buffeted by winds of 200 mph, Jackson slipped and managed to grab onto the air intake on the wing but lost the fire extinguisher. Despite Jackson’s best efforts, the fire couldn’t be extinguished, and he received significant burns to his hands and face.

The German fighter soon returned and attacked the aircraft again, scoring hits, two of which struck Jackson in the leg, forcing him off the wing. The Lancaster could not be saved, and the crew bailed out, four of whom survived.

Jackson fell 20,000 feet with his parachute burning and holed by the bullets. Fortunately, the parachute slowed his descent enough to save his life, although he still landed heavily, breaking his ankle.

Jackson then managed to crawl to a nearby German village, where he was taken prisoner. The airman spent the next ten months recovering from his injuries in a German hospital before being transferred to Stalag IX. He attempted to escape twice, the second of which was successful and he made contact with an American division.

It wasn’t until the end of the war, when Jackson’s surviving crewmates returned to Britain, that his heroics came to light, and he was nominated for the Victoria Cross.

Sergeant Jackson’s citation concludes:

“This airman’s attempt to extinguish the fire and save the aircraft and crew from falling into enemy hands was an act of outstanding gallantry. To venture outside, when travelling 200 miles an hour, at a great height and in intense cold, was an almost incredible feat. Had he succeeded in subduing the flames, there was little or no prospect of his regaining the cockpit. The spilling of his parachute and the risk of grave damage to its canopy reduced his chances of survival to a minimum. By his ready willingness to face these dangers he set an example of self-sacrifice which will ever be remembered.”

The post Sgt Norman Cyril Jackson VC appeared first on International Bomber Command Centre.

There were escape attempts from many PoW camps but The Great Escape is most well-known because it was the largest mass escape and because Hitler ordered the execution of 50 of those recaptured.

The plan was to get 200 POWs out through a tunnel over 100 metres long and this was planned for 24 March 1944.   It is thought that there were about 600 involved in the many parts of the preparation for this escape, digging, disposing of the soil, preparing documents and clothing, scrouging equipment and other tasks.   The Germans discovered the tunnel after 76 PoWs had escaped to make their attempt to return to UK.  Of these, only 3 were successful 2 Norwegians and one Dutchman, 73 were recaptured and fifty of those were murdered.

There were 13 nations among those murdered 20 British, 6 Canadian,  6 Polish, 5 Australian, 3 S African, 2 NZ, 2 Norwegian, 1 Argentinian, 1 Belgian, 1 Czech, 1 French, 1 Greek, 1 Lithuanian.

The nationalities of the 23 who were recaptured and return to captivity were 14-British, 3-Canadian, 2-Czech, 2-New Zealander, 1-French, 1-South African.

On the memorial walls of the IBCC  the 28 Bomber Command aircrew are remembered.  There is one panel with two of them, Flt Lt Gordon Kidder, Canadian navigator, and Sqn Ldr Thomas Kirby-Green, British pilot.  They escaped together, were recaptured together, murdered together and are now remembered together. They are remembered together not only at the IBCC but also in the small town of Hrubuvka near Ostrava in Czech Republic.  That town placed a small memorial to remember these two men who died fighting for the freedom of Europe.  Thomas had a son, Colin who was eight when his father was killed.  In 2011 Colin visited Hrubuvka for the first time, was hosted by a local family and saw the memorial.  He returned to Hrubuvka again in 2019, on the 75^th anniversary of his father’s execution.  The town invited him as a guest of honour as they held a church service and civic reception in honour of Gordon and Thomas and those who had been killed from their town.

Colin has a close connection with one of the escapers who survived, Roy Langlois.  Roy and Thomas became close friends while in captivity and when Roy was repatriated at the end of the war he visited Thomas’s widow, Maria to pass on his condolences but they got on very well and some two years later were married.  Colin is grateful that he was blessed with two amazing loving fathers.

All of the Fifty were cremated and their urns were placed in a Mausoleum that the POWs were allowed to build at Stalag Luft 3.  They were subsequently moved to Poznan cemetery, but Flt Lt Denys Street was moved to the Berlin Commonwealth War grave site and Lt Nils Fuglesang was repatriated to his home village of Rasvag in the Southern part of Norway.

To mark the 80th anniversary, a group of about 50 RAF personnel are visiting Poland on a force development trip which is centred on commemoration events for the Great Escape.  On Saturday 23 March there will be a formal commemoration service at the Old Military Cemetery Poznan.  RAF officers will also visit the graves of Denys Street and Nils Fuglesang to place wreaths at their final resting places.

The post The Great Escape – 80th anniversary appeared first on International Bomber Command Centre.

On getting above the Massif Central, the plane was suddenly caught in a snowstorm and it crashed on the country lane D25 which leads to le Mont-Dore.

At the bottom of the valley, stands the 12^th century basilica of Orcival, and in front, just a few hundred yards up, there’s a remarkable vantage point looking on to the volcanic Rocks ‘Tuilières et Sanadoire’.

A memorial in Volvic stone stands with a propeller attached, on the left-hand side of the lane as you go up, with a plaque offered by FFI (Forces Françaises de l’Intérieur) paying homage to the “the six English airmen for their bravery”. There are no names.

They were between 20 and 29 years old. Two of them were married. Four of them from New-Zealand. Sergeants, chief-Sergeant, Flight Officers. Colin Armstrong, the Mid-Upper Gunner, didn’t die in the crash. He was made a prisoner and spent the rest of the war in Dalag Luft and Stalag VIII/357.

Raymond Watson https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/229599/

Cyril Beech https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/201780

Hugh Henderson https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/212637

Ralph Woods https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/231180

Robert James Melville https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/219208

Arthur Stanley Jones https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/214882

Thank you.

In May wild orchids can be seen in the ditch, and above your memorial, high above, invariably, a lark is singing.

Written by Dr Fabienne Bonnet

The post Stirling E215 AA-M  appeared first on International Bomber Command Centre.