Ray Keating the bomb aimer
went sick,
(subsequently KIA 21/5/44)
and we had to find a spare bomb aimer. A New Zealander
(Australian actually) A.E. Thomas joined us and although not happy at
the change of crew, we were keen for Ops as we had been
rested for two weeks, most crews had been on the French
Operations. But each one only counted a third of an OP and
was not in favour.
We were on our way to the
final turning point, when everything went wrong. The
excellent co-ordination between Navigator and bomb aimer was
lacking in the new team and the turning point was overshot
by a considerable margin, due to an error in the H2S
reading. Once again we had to turn on to a track which took
us over the hostile Ruhr Defences and, all alone, we did not
have the safety the bomber stream gave.
We could see the raid in
progress whilst still some considerable distance away.
Searchlight beams probed the sky around us and eventually a
radar predicted blue light fastened on to us. To be followed
immediately by the blinding light of ordinary searchlights.
Flak was bursting all around us, but the skipper kept on
flying straight and level towards the bombing run. Suddenly
a terrific explosion and the aircraft shook. We had been hit
by a flak shell, in the rear of the fuselage. Within seconds
the whole of the rear fuselage was a blazing torch,
streaming out behind the aircraft. Bill’s turret was
completely engulfed, and I received no reply to anxious
shouts over the intercom. I reported to the skipper who
acknowledged, and immediately ordered bomb doors open and
dropped the bombs. Before any other action could be taken an
ME110 appeared diving to port. I immediately ordered
corkscrew and began firing. The EA dived below us and I lost
sight of him. The skipper was just about to deal with the
fire problem when we were again hit by flak in the port
wing. Within seconds it too was a mass of flames, we were
now over the target, still in the grip of blinding
searchlights, the skipper ordered us to bale out.
I lost no time
evacuating the turret, I grabbed my chute clipping it on to
the harness. The rear exit which I had arranged would be my
exit point was blocked by fire, which had such a hold and
was nearly up to the turret. I quickly climbed the bomb bay
steps and started to make my way forward this proved very
difficult with the aircraft in a spiral dive. I struggled
along the bomb bay floor. But the exertion of my efforts
above oxygen height caused a temporary black out. We must
have reached oxygen height quickly for I don’t think I was
out many seconds. Again I struggled forward eventually
reaching the main spar. I could not climb over in the normal
way, so resorted to grabbing hold of a tubular upright at
the WOP’s position and pulling myself headfirst over.
Reaching the cabin it was deserted and so brightly lit from
the fire in the wing which now covered the whole area of the
wing with the flames, licking the Perspex cabin. I reached
the nose of the aircraft and saw the gaping hole of the way
of escape, and lost no time in plunging feet first. An exit
which was not the correct way to bale out, but out I got and
counting three, as instructed - what a long time it seemed -
I pulled the rip cord and with a terrific jerk my headlong
plunge into space was changed to a gentle floating in the
dark sky. After the continuous roar of four Merlins it
seemed so quiet and eerie. Looking down, the ground over a
large area was a sea of flames, with black smoke rising into
the sky. My first thoughts were that I had luckily escaped
one fire and now seemed likely to land in another. I
remember pulling on the chute rigging lines in an effort to
escape the flames. I wore a silk scarf when flying it had
worked loose and was now flapping in my face, in desperation
I tore it away and let it float into space. My next problem
was the smoke cloud, reaching them I was soon coughing and
choking, my eyes smarting and running, making it difficult
to see, in fact I had to close my eyes. Again after what
seemed an awfully long time I opened them to find I was
through the smoke cloud and drifting away from the fires
below. Suddenly the outline of buildings and trees appeared.
I looked to be heading for the roof of what looked like a
bungalow, but but at the last moment swung away. I had only
just time to prepare myself for the landing when I struck
the ground with such force I collapsed in a heap.
Not the way we had been
taught a landing should be made. Quickly I released the
chute and harness and attempted to stand, but I fell down
again with a searing pain in my ankle when I put weight on
it. Before I could contemplate my next move I heard shouting
and knew that my descent had been seen.
I could not hope to
escape, so I just waited for the voice’s to reach me,
looking around I could see I had landed on a road, a short
distance away buildings were on both sides of the road. The
Bungalow I had just missed stood on its own. Although it was
a dark night the distant glow of the fires at the target
Dusseldorf lit up the area. The voices came nearer and then
I found that a torch I usually carried stuffed in my flying
boot had switched itself on showing my position to the
approaching captors. I was surrounded by civilians all
talking in German, until one elderly individual came to me
and said in English, for you the war is over. I gathered he
had been a prisoner of ours in The Great War. I was
eventually taken into one of the houses skirting the road, I
was immediately surrounded by men, women and children, all
pointing and talking excitedly in German.
I was first searched for
arms, then told to remove my flying suit, this and the
escape kit I had not been able to discard were examined and
most probably spirited away, for I did not see them again.
The chocolate and sweets I carried as flying rations would
most probably have gone the same way, so I threw them to the
kids crowding around me. I was allowed a cigarette, but my
case full of twenty was taken, so too was the coins I
carried.
After about an hour
there was a commotion at the door, and a German Soldier in
uniform and armed, pushed his way into the room. After
talking with the English speaking German who then translated
the soldiers instruction, that if I attempted to escape I
would be shot, I was then led out of the room to a waiting
car with a civilian driver. I was put in the passenger seat
next to the driver with the soldier sitting in the rear.
We drove towards the
fires, and it looked from a distance that a way through was
impossible. We never gave much thought to what conditions
would be like in a target attacked by a force of five
hundred bombers. So long as we saw plenty of fires and they
were concentrated, it was a good prang. We gave little
thought to the consequences and rarely discussed the
horrific outcome of a raid.
We reached the outskirts
and lining the road were lines of fire fighting vehicles,
making no effort to tackle the fires. Most probably under
orders not to risk valuable equipment until the raid was
over. We entered the town at a walking pace, proceeding
along streets covered with debris, and fires on both sides
threatening to merge. Some streets were blocked and we had
to turn or reverse and find an alternative route. In many
streets great gaps which must have been hit by a cookie,
fires were increasing in number and intensity as we
proceeded through the city. The heat was terrific and the
air thick with dust and smoke. Occasionally we stopped and
the driver and guard held a conversation with much
gesticulating. I gathered they were lost, eventually we
arrived at a cross roads in the city centre, again a
consultation and whilst this was going on I had a chance to
see one of the awesome effects of a raid. A large building
at the corner of the cross roads most probably an hotel or
flats had received a direct hit, and was blazing furiously.
Crowds of rescue workers and police were dashing in and out
of the building carrying injured and dead, who were laid out
on the road. I saw no ambulances or medical attention, and
of course no attempt to tackle the fires. On we proceeded
until we came to a road following the railway line, we came
to a sudden stop, to be confronted by a steam engine lying
on its side in the road. It had been blown off the line
above. Again a detour, until we finally arrived at a part of
the city on the edge of the aiming point that was not
damaged. Proceeding along a road lit by the many fires I
could see that one side of the road was lined with railings,
most probably a park. On the other side large houses with no
garden and steps up to the doors.
We eventually stopped at
one of these houses, and I was taken inside, and down into
the basement which had been converted into a police control
room. Girls manned telephones on one side of the room.
At other tables, the
occupant most probably in charge. After a considerable wait
with personnel dashing in and out, suddenly one of the
newcomers, covered in dust and blood, saw me, and after
shouting and gesticulating, he flew at me knocking me to the
ground, with his hands round by throat. The officer at the
table I had been standing at, jumped up and pulled the
officer away, who after a further outburst disappeared from
the room. Only now do I realise how lucky I was to escape
with my life, as later, in prison camp I learned many
aircrew had been killed by the civilian population, when
they landed in the target area. Later I also found this was
the fate of three members of my crew. I was eventually taken
upstairs and after having been searched yet again, and my
flying boots taken, was put into a small room on the ground
floor. The time was about 0300, but although exhausted by
the hair raising events of the past few hours found it
difficult to sleep. Daylight arrived but the view from the
small window was not very impressive, just the back of a
block of houses, with smoke still rising over the roofs.
Around lunch time I was
taken out of the room, given back my flying boots and handed
over to a Luftwaffe Officer. He could speak English and told
me I was now in the hands of the Luftwaffe. Leaving the
building I could see the iron railings across the road did
in fact surround a park. Again I was escorted to a car, this
time sitting in the back with the officer, it was a
Luftwaffe vehicle with a uniformed driver. We proceeded
through streets covered in rubble but a way through had and
was being cleared. Fires were still burning, but now the
fire appliances were winning there battle.
We stopped eventually
half way down a street in the residential area, even here
most houses showed damage. The Officer pointed to a house
across the road with a tarpaulin sheet covering the roof,
and said this was his house. Leaving me with the driver, he
went into the house, again I had time to look around, it
appeared a good class area on the outskirts of the city, but
most houses had boarded up windows and sheets covering the
roofs. Some were so badly damaged they appeared derelict.
After a short while the Officer re-appeared and we resumed
our journey, eventually arriving at a Luftwaffe Airfield on
the outskirts of Dusseldorf. I was taken to a large Admin
Block which appeared deserted, after waiting another period
in the drivers charge, and NCO appeared and I was escorted
from the building towards the main gate - entering a guard
room just inside.
Here I was in for a
great surprise, for I was put in a cell already occupied by
non other than Reg our W.O.P. We had to endure four days and
nights in the cell, food consisted of some evil smelling and
looking soup, which although hungry I cold not eat. Reg
scoffed the lot, the drink too was horrible, later I was to
find out it was made from roasted acorns. What a vile
concoction with no milk or sugar. We were visited by the
Medical Officer next day, but he was not interested in such
a minor injury as a sprained ankle. Reg was OK. He had come
down in the glare of a searchlight which followed his
descent into the very field the searchlight battery was
operating from.
Other aircrew could be
heard in the adjoining cell, and later, during an exercise
half hour in the courtyard we met I think another five or
six aircrew. On the fourth day of captivity we were taken
from the cells and ordered into a covered lorry, followed by
twelve armed guards. We proceeded out of the airfield
towards Dusseldorf. Once again we entered the city, only
this time in daylight. The effects of the raid were to be
seen down every road, but a way through the debris had been
made by piling it on each side of the road enabling a single
track to be made, finally we arrived at the railway station.
It had taken only four days to repair and make serviceable,
some feat, for it had really taken a pasting. We climbed out
of the lorry and surrounded by the twelve guards made our
way through a propped up tunnel to a platform above. Here we
were soon surrounded by a very hostile crowd of civilians,
one in particular shouting and making an effort to get at
us. It was only after being threatened by the guards, that
be backed away, still demonstrating his anger at us. We
were, of course, now fully aware of the hostility of people
in the target area’s. Later Reg and I discussing the facts
of our escape, realised that Thomas - Derek - Maurice who
had baled out first must have landed in the target area and
could have fallen victims in the hands of hostile raid
victims. I landed about ten miles from the target, Reg
landed about four miles. And later we found the skipper had
landed about six miles from the target. I don’t think three
chutes would fail to open, and although dropping on a
blazing target, could have been responsible the lack of
information leads me to believe they suffered in the hands
of the public.
Interrogation
Camp
After
a long wait in an explosive atmosphere a train at last
steamed into the station and we were hustled into a carriage
with wooden slatted seats. Our journey was only to Cologne.
Here we alighted and had another long wait. Cologne too had
taken a severe beating, all around the station was desolate.
The only building still standing was the Cathedral. No
buildings at all at the station, but the line was open and
many trains passed in both directions. At last our train
arrived, but no carriages this time, we had to put up with
an uncomfortable journey in the guards van. Some parts of
the journey followed the Rhine, most probably a very
picturesque journey in times of peace. My only recollection
was seeing a castle perched on a hill overlooking the Rhine
valley.
Our next stop was
Frankfurt another city that had been visited by bomber
command, here again the station was considerable damaged but
the trains still ran.
We changed to a local
tram for the short journey to Dulag-Luft, the air crew
interrogation centre at Oberusel. We entered the vorlager
(Luftwaffe camp) and entered a large wooden single storey
building. This was divided into cells on each side of a
passage way. I was put in one of these cells, a bare room
7’x5’ approx, with a barred window at one end, a wooden
bench down one side, with just one blanket, under the window
a Radiator. By now I was feeling pretty hungry, the only
food in four days was two slices of horrible tasting bread
and jam, also a drink of ersatz coffee. The food was to be
no better for the six days I spent in the cooler. Breakfast
a mug of coffee (no milk or sugar) 1 slice of bread and
margarine, Dinner consisted of a bowl of veg soup, Tea
consisted of a mug of coffee, one slice of bread and jam.
On the fourth day, I was
visited by an English speaking Officer, who handed me a Red
Cross Form and requested I fill in the details, so that the
Red X would be notified of my capture. I filled in Name,
Rank and Number, but refused to fill in details of sqd.
number, bomb load etc., the Interrogation Officer shouted
that I must fill in all the questions or the Red X would not
be notified of my capture. Again I refused, so the
Interrogation Officer snatched the paper from me and after
banging on the door for the guard, left without another
word.
Arrival
in POW Camp.
I managed to see Reg
once during my stay in the cooler. We were allowed out for
toilet morning and night which was at the end of the
building, and on one of these visits Reg passed me.
The following day, I was
taken down the corridor to the Luftwaffe Offices in the
Interrogation Block. Entering a lavishly furnished office,
the first thing to strike me was the huge map of England
covering the whole wall, with airfields marked clearly, so
that when I was invited to sit down facing the map, I could
see Upwood and Wickenby and many other bomber airfields
marked very clearly. I was offered a cigarette from a packet
of players on the desk. Know doubt stolen from P.O.W.
Parcels.)
The Interrogation began
with questions I had refused to fill in on the Red X form. I
replied I was only allowed to give my rank, name, and
number. He then started to give me information about R.A.F
Bomber Stations I had been with. 12 and 626 sqd at Wickenby,
and on the night I was shot down I was with 156 sqd Upwood.
Pointing to the map on the wall he indicated these
airfields, he then proceeded to give me information which I
did not know. So I could not tell how accurate his
information was. He told me the bomb load, the wing
commanders name and that he had a daughter. After giving me
this information, he asked if it was correct, if not I must
be a spy. I thought it better to admit the information was
correct. I had not given any information, only confirmed
what he had said was correct, some of it could have been
made up, so he would not be any wiser.
The interrogation over I
was taken back to the cell or cooler as it became known. The
reason for this name stems from the action the German’s took
to make life more difficult. The radiator already mentioned
was not to keep the cell nice and warm. Most of the time,
warm or cold it was off. But at night just when we had dozed
off it would be switched on and in so small a place, the
heat soon became unbearable. We had to strip to get some
relief and after dozing off again would wake up shivering.
The radiator was switched off, and the temperature
plummeted. We had to spend most of the night pacing up and
down the cooler to keep our circulation going. On the sixth
day of this treatment and feeling pretty hungry and
depressed, the cooler door was opened and my flying boots
thrown in as was usual. (They were taken from me every
night). And fully expecting the usual trip to the toilets,
was surprised to be told I was leaving for the main camp. I
joined other aircrew from the cooler, Reg was with them, and
together we were taken out of the building, across the
compound to the camp, a barb wire enclosed area, with sentry
boxes at each corner occupied by a guard with machine gun.
Long Lon Barracks were set in a barren enclosure, and after
the guards had escorted us through the barb wire gate we now
joined a hundred or so aircrew in what was known as a
transit camp, where prisoners after interrogation were
assembled, prior to being moved to the various Prisoner Of
War Camps. All ranks including Officers assembled here. We
were met at the gate by a P.O.W. who acting on behalf of the
committee of P.O.W.’S running the camp, took us in charge
explaining the rules and regulations and warning us to be
extra careful in the barracks he was taking us too. After so
long in solitary confinement, conversation was essential,
this the Germans knew. And they had hidden microphones all
over the camp. Taking us into one of the barracks, a fairly
large room lined with three tier wooden bunks. Over fifty
kreigies, (the name now given to all P.O.W’S) occupied this
sombre, dark, airless room. We were allocated a bunk, myself
in a middle one, Reg on the bottom, it was just a simple
wooden structure - the base being laths of wood on two long
rails. On top of the boards was a ersatz sacks filled with
wood shavings, and one blanket. We were then given a meal,
which although not up to R.A.F. Standard, was a big
improvement on the rubbish I had existed on for the past
week. For this we had to thank the Red X, this organisation
provided us with essential food, that no doubt kept us alive
and sane during our captivity. We were also given cigarettes
from the same source.
Stalag Luft 6 The
main camp for Air Force NCO’S lay about two miles
south-east of the small town of Heydekrug, about halfway
between Tilsit and Memel and close to the Lithuanian
Frontier. The Camp was built on sand. The surrounding
country was flat, swampy and wooded. The majority of
roads being cart tracks and the principal means of
communication - the single track railway between Tilsit
and Memel.
