Library Reference Number: 077
Silent We Strike
No. 298 Squadron was reformed at Tarrant Rushton on 4th November 1943.
`A' Flight of 295 Squadron provided the basis of this reformation, and over the coming months the strength of the Squadron was increased and equipped throughout with forty converted Halifax V Bombers, then, on 23`d February 1944, 'C' Flight was removed to form the experienced nucleus of 644 Squadron.
As a twenty year-old newly qualified flight engineer, I was sent to join 298 Squadron, and along with 644 squadron, our roles were to prove vital to the success of the Normandy invasion, Arnhem and the Rhine crossings. Secret parachute drops of all kinds would include conveying secret agents into Europe, parachuting SAS and SOE operatives behind German lines and dropping supplies and arms to Resistance Groups from the French Alps to Norway.
We left Hurn where the Russian pilots trained, but not before an RAF air test on a Halifax. No brake pressure, but forewarned, we landed safely. Tarrant Rushton was our new airfield in Dorset that took seven months to build. It had three runways, one of which was a mile long with a 300-yard dip at the end that suited our purpose. Hitler, we were told, had decreed that anyone engaged in sabotage irrespective of a British uniform would be executed but we were too busy.
My first operational flight was with another crew. I was a substitute because of a case of tonsillitis and because I chose the two of diamonds, the lowest in the deck. I would experience flak, evasive techniques and centrifugal force. Three lights and the correct signal letter would inform us the Resistance were there. The next time this crew were on operations with their substitute, they were all killed. Mac, the navigator of our own 298 crew, came from the same part of Glasgow as me. He joined the RAF in 1936 and a DFC would be added to his Air Force Cross after Arnhem.
The Glider Pilot Regiment were also at Tarrant Rushton with massive Hamilcar and Horsa gliders. 298 and 644 squadrons were the only ones allowed to tow the Hamilcar that could carry a seven-ton tank, two Bren gun carriers, guns, troops, motorbikes or whatever.
Wing Commander Duder DSO had arrived and taken our crew for something big. While on exercise towing a Hamilcar, we plummeted, levelled off and landed safely. "Thought you were goners". The Hamilcar was a write-off. The two glider pilots suffered only superficial cuts. Nothing to report after our air test during a stormy afternoon. The aircraft was wanted for ops that night but it went into the hangar a second time instead. A wing bolt had sheared.
Alan Mathews, a wireless operator would have been with the two of us one night but for ops. Little did we know his plane had been shot down as we waited at the local Anvil for scrambled egg and a taxi that wouldn't wait. He had parachuted safely before the Resistance found him. The Air Ministry were told but not his parents.
On his return, I asked Alan about airmen captured by Germans. He had heard of a crew ankle-tied to a lorry, driven off and bayoneted; that Germans on a reprisal raid had gone to the wrong village by name, killed the men and ushered the women with a priest into a chapel and set fire to it. One woman had escaped from a high window behind the altar while another tried to do the same and was shot. For his work with the French, Alan was awarded the French Legion of Honour. He and an American secret agent were flown back before D-Day. A Glaswegian living in Southampton, he died a few years ago.
Towing gliders at night was a new venture in which the Wing Commander was involved. Coup de Main on June 5th 1944, was the spearhead of Operation Overlord, the invasion of Normandy. Six Halifax tug aircraft with their six heavily loaded Horsa gliders, stood at the start of the runway. Major John Howard in our leading glider, commanded an elite body of airborne troops who had trained for two years for this historic event.
In the gathering dusk we set off around 11 pm. Patchy clouds with a glint of the Channel below, we reached the French coast at 6000ft. The gliders cast off for a hard but accurate landing. Pegasus bridge over the Caen canal was the only opening from the coastal road, and in line was the stone bridge over the river Orne parallel to the canal. Pegasus was taken in 20 minutes and for both bridges it was "Ham and Jam".
If the operation had failed, all would have been lost. Meanwhile the six Halifaxes at low level had gone on a diversion raid to a cement factory defended by a heavy flak barrage to drop their two 500 lb bombs.
Our own pilot was with us again for the remainder of our operational tour. On the afternoon of D-Day, we released a Hamilcar at Caen. The sky was full of aircraft when we were about to turn for base. To avoid the armada was to take to the battlefield. From an enemy tank, the steady flow of green tracer spilled out through the top of Harry's rear turret. Deviation of any kind would have been fatal for Harry who was not allowed to retaliate because of the danger to our troops below. It was a miracle he wasn't even scratched.
In France, a month later, our Halifax and another landed on a fighter strip to collect Hamilcars too difficult for us to retrieve. We were advised not to go to Bayeux where there was a woman shooting from a belfry. There was the hint of a broken romance. A young French boy told me his father, a sergeant, was going back to war. He offered me small potatoes that one picks after the main harvest. Our own squadron leader, Briggs, was there too and on our return escorted us in a Spitfire. No one knew whom it belonged to, but folk wondered afterwards where it had gone.
On September 17, the invasion of Holland began.
Our long runway had the semblance of an aircraft carrier as forty aircraft and gliders were airborne in just 23 minutes and 10 seconds with thirty-one launched on the second day in just 19 minutes and 15 seconds. On the third day, twenty-one were launched in a mere 11 minutes!
To see us off was the Navy type with his two bats. On the second day, our navigator was hit by flak. There was a smell of explosive. A two-foot hole under his armour-plated seat had saved him from serious injury but small fragments of metal had penetrated his skin. I helped him to the rest bay and looked after his wounds as best I could. Authority would not let us go a third time without a navigator.
Fuel was reduced to carry more weight in the glider on the second day. On our return to Tarrant Rushton, we crossed the North Sea at 1/2lb boost and 2000 revs. Low on fuel, I was taking no chances in what I considered to be an emergency situation. I advised our pilot not to circuit before landing.
At the end of the runway our starboard outer cut.
We still do not know what happened to those missing crews on the Norway run. When I was there, all I saw was snow, snow, snow! For their own reasons, the Resistance had not turned up at Fargennes near Oslo.
I had lost my flying supper over the North Sea, returned to a ground mist at Tarrant Rushton, diverted to St Davids in Wales where I had a kipper breakfast without a knife and fork. While there, my toolbox was raided and the adjustable spanner my father had given me was extracted. I suppose it's still around with my name stamped upon it.
The French Alps had been different. Delivery of a special package was delayed by bad weather and when we finally took off, we met St Elmo's fire on the way. Forked lightning and flashing props lit us up. We dropped the package, hit a down draught, lost height but with pilot skill cleared the crags.
The crew's last operation was at the request of troops at Cologne. Ten of our Halifaxes would bomb marshalling yards at Gartenbroich at 15 minute intervals. I looked up and saw another Halifax above us on the run-in to the target.
Our 18 month operational tour ended before the Rhine Crossing. My flight engineer friend, who was there, said he had counted fourteen aircraft going down. RAF pilots flew gliders because there was a shortage of glider pilots after Arnhem. Those on parachutes were dead before they landed.
We became instructors before our release. For us, all it had been a serious game of hide and seek against the Germans. The SOE man at Falaise Gap was nearly caught. His feet dangled in the funnel waiting for the red light to turn to green. A sudden W/T message was to bring him back. Germans were on the dropping zone.
Another night we were shadowed by an ME210. Harry at the tail end of the aircraft was our only air gunner. As the enemy aircraft stole up on us, we watched and waited. When he was in range Harry's four Brownings burst forth and the enemy turned away having lost the will to stay. German airfields had switched on perimeter lights near the Swiss frontier at Geneva. A flare was the signal to reverse course and start climbing.