Library Reference Number: 072
Conflict in Italy
During WW2, some of the world's most beautiful scenery, belied the true nature of the grim reality lying behind the presence of our Allied aircrew based in this theatre of war. Saltire Branch member Bill Marshall was an Air Gunner in a Wellington bomber, serving with No. 104 Squadron based at Foggia in Italy. Aircrew losses at this time, were at their highest point, and for several months it was a rare occurrence for an aircrew to survive the requisite number of missions to complete an operational tour. Bill's skipper George McDougal describes the scene:-
"Daylight flying differed greatly to night flying. During daylight you were able to witness the magnificent scenery unfolding like a motion picture below you. The bright blue of the Adriatic Sea, the majestic mountains iced with vivid white snow, the narrow coastal strips of rich green and the blanket of deep snow snaked only by the darkness of a river twisting and coiling through the wide valleys, presented an endless kaleidoscope. Supply drops to troops or partisan groups, on hastily laid out dropping zones (DZ) would pattern the snow covered fields with coloured, crumpled parachutes, and local partisans would appear like ants collecting vital stores. Some daylight missions were like idyllic scenic jaunts.
Yet, daylight flying also contained negatives, and one of the most frightening aspects of daylight operations was the sight of comrades being annihilated. It was horrifying to see yet another aircraft explode in a flash of flame. During daylight missions there was no darkness to blank out the sight of an aircraft plunging into the ground, or obscure the black spreading stain cutting a smoking swathe, and desecrating the pure whiteness of the fields below. The sun's rays illuminated the horror and sharpened your fear.
On one day mission, with about two dozen other aircraft, we circled down into a confined valley for a low level supply drop. Everything appeared peaceful and serene. With wheels and flaps extended to attain a low speed on the drop run, and to hold my position in the queue (about midway in the dropping force) I flew downwards towards the unsullied snow covered fields. Suddenly, we saw a horrible explosion! An aircraft, about to drop their packs, burst into a ball of flame. Billowing black smoke, like hideous entrails spewed out of the doomed bomber and pursued the plummeting aircraft. Another bomber, also vomiting charcoal smoke, struggled like a wounded bird to maintain height in a limping turn.
Guns from the surrounding high ground, were firing down into the circling crowd of planes. Even as a kid, I was never a patron of side-show alley duck shoots, and I certainly didn't wish to take the part of a sitting duck then. Retracting the wheels, I cut the circle shorter, and told Taffy to try and dump the supply packs quickly, and as close as possible to the coded dropping zone. We roared across the valley, dropped our packs, and continued low down following the river. For the next fifteen minutes, I lifted over ridges, dived to almost tree-top height, and wheeled steeply around corners one way - only having to fling the controls the other way to follow another curve. At times, it seemed that we must plaster ourselves against some mountain side, or tear a wing off - but this action was survival!
Many of our daylight missions were similar, involving supply drops to partisans; but others were raids on heavily defended targets, which appeared to get bolder in nature. One operation was a combined RAF and American raid on the Naval Armaments Arsenal at the northern tip of the Adriatic Sea. The sky was choked with over one hundred American Liberators, and between 50 - 60 RAF aircraft. Buzzing above was a protective umbrella of fighters (a unique experience for us), as we approached, the air was already drenched with flak which seemed impenetrable. I think we all felt that somehow, the blissful ignorance of enveloping darkness of night, was preferable to this shattering brightness of day. On our bombing run, a Liberator received a direct hit and disintegrated right in front of us. There was no way to avoid the mesmerising debris as it rushed towards us. We were able to continue flying, and inspection on our return to base revealed numerous holes, gashes and dents, - and also a pleasant surprise!
The surprise began when after landing, the Squadron C.O. drove up We knew that we would not be permitted to go beyond 40 missions before being compulsorily classified Tour Expired.' The C.O. extended his hand and said "Congratulations Mac, You have just completed your Tour of Operations." Then he turned to each crew member and shook their hand. The full impact of this announcement took some moments to register, then with a whooping roar we danced about the dispersal area in celebration. We had survived those hoodo 'last five ops.' The first crew in months to actually complete an ops tour. WE HAD BEATEN THE ODDS !!"
I can only confirm the situation, as described above by my former skipper George McDougal. We have met on several occasions since leaving our flying duties and going our separate ways. As mentioned above, we are still united in our relief at being survivors, at a time of extensive aircrew losses during this period of conflict in Italy.