大象传媒

I only came to find out this story when my uncle sent my father's 1941 RAF diary to me a few years ago.

I did some research at the Public Records Office and found the logbooks of 36 Squadron and came across a story of an attack of a submarine in January 1944. It was a swamp operation searching for submarines. It took off at 1930 hours and sighted a U-boat at 2205 hours. They attacked at 1000 feet and released 8 D/Cs. At 100 feet the U-boat opened fire and the starboard engine was hit. The intercom and rear turret was damaged and the rear gunner wounded. No result of the air attack was observed. This short version is from the logbook and in a book titled Dark Sky, Deep Water by Norman Franks, I found the whole story about Operation Swamp.

My father was FS P C Kiln WOP/AG on the Wellington 鈥楳鈥� captained by Flying Officer J T Hutton and the crew: FS R N Holton 2nd pilot, FS F S Foxon Navigator, FS C T Layson WOP/AG, WO I G Ricketts WOP/AG.

Ron Holton (2nd Pilot) recalls: It was the night after my 21st birthday, which I had celebrated not wisely but too well. The following evening 3 crews were called to standby, including ours, and were briefed in the crew room. Apparently a German U boat had slipped through the narrows of Gib on it way to a base at Marseilles. Some distance to the east of the narrows it had come upon an American troop ship and had promptly sent it to the bottom with enormous loss of life. Our job was to find the U boat and kill it. This was to be achieved by setting up what was known as a Swamp operation.

It was an ingeniously thought out plan that spelt doom for the U boats in the Med. We knew where the U boat had been, ie the site of the sinking and we also thought we knew its destination. We knew its maximum speed under water and therefore had a fairly good idea where it was now and where it would be in so many hours time. If we 'swamped' the area with aircraft, gradually extending the area and the number of aircraft, eventually we would find it when it was forced to surface.

Our 3 aircraft were to form the first wave. Each of us was allotted an area. We knew that somewhere within the totality of the 3 areas the U boat was bound to be. All we had to do was keep searching and to remain alert. The search area was just off the south-east corner of Spain. We had the central area.

It was a brilliant cloudless night, almost full moon, when we set course and took up station. Looking up-moon as the jargon had it, the sea glittered with a myriad diamonds; it was a truly beautiful and peaceful night, although our purpose was anything but peaceful.

After a couple of hours or so of uneventful patrol, we suddenly received a coded signal from No. 1 aircraft to the west of us. It gave its callsign, followed by the number '424', meaning he was about to investigate a suspicious target, followed by the position. After no more than 5 minutes it should then have transmitted either a confirmation or a cancellation, but after 5 minutes - nothing.

I was flying the aircraft (Jimmy Hutton and I always shared the flying on a 50/50 basis) and called to Mike, our navigator, to give me a course to the position given. It was close to the western edge of our area and in a very short time we were approaching the site when Tommy who was on the radar, said: "I've got a target bearing 050, distance 7 miles.鈥� As I turned on to the bearing, I noticed a fire on the surface of the sea, obviously the remains of No.1 aircraft.

Tommy continued to give me closing ranges, having sent off our own 鈥�424鈥� signal, 5 miles, 4 miles and so on while I gradually reduced height and increased speed. We did not want the sub to crash-dive until we had had a good crack at it. Stan had already gone aft to lower the Leigh Light, when I noticed the sub on the surface about one mile off the Spanish coast and making a tremendous wake as it proceeded at maximum speed. I immediately told Stan not to lower the Light as this would give us 10 extra valuable knots and also make us a more difficult target.

Tommy reported: 鈥�2 miles, dead ahead!鈥� I opened the bomb doors and flicked the switches to prime the depth charges. Almost at once the flak started. I was amazed at how much was being thrown at us: there were large balls of orange fire which I knew to be from a Bofors gun. These came at us so rapidly, making hose-pipe patterns that I thought that at least one was bound to get us. In addition there seemed to be a mass of tracer shells coming from a number of guns. I could not see how we could get through all the flak and survive. Somehow I 鈥榢new鈥� that this was my last life about to be extinguished and I was terrified. I had been in many tight spots before but never had I experienced such abject fear.

Suddenly I seemed to be above and slightly right of my body. I could see my other self manipulating the aircraft and lining it up in accordance with all the training we had received: a 30 degree angle to the boat, depth charges to be dropped just ahead of the sub so that they exploded 2 on either side. I felt as calm and free from all fear as if I was out on a country stroll. I began to give a running commentary to the rest of the crew and told George, the rear gunner, to be ready to strafe the whole length of the sub as we passed over it. I realised that the port engine had been hit, and that now we were almost on top of the sub, the gunners below must have had a perfect view of our vulnerable undersides. As the bow of the U boat disappeared below our nose, I pressed the release button and felt the lift as the stick of 4 D/Cs fell away. As I did so, George鈥檚 guns started chattering as he swept the decks of the sub, and the acrid smell of burnt cordite filled the aircraft.

Instantly I seemed to be back in my body and found myself struggling to maintain control. We were heading straight for the Spanish coast and there was no way we could avoid it. The port engine was out of action and my first reaction was to feather the propeller and increase compensatory power to the starboard engine. We were now over the coast and I had no idea how close to the ground we were. I only knew that we were far too close. The bomb doors were still open and I couldn鈥檛 close them until I had jettisoned the remaining 4 D/Cs and I couldn鈥檛 do that while were still over land. In the meantime it was impossible to climb and I had to make a very gentle turn into the dead engine 鈥� contrary to good airmanship 鈥� therefore I necessarily had to penetrate further inland than I would have liked.

As we crossed the coast I remember George shouting excitedly over the intercom: 鈥淲e鈥檝e got him! We鈥檝e got him!鈥�, as the D/Cs exploded and smothered the U boat in roam and cascading water. But all my attention was on the aircraft. At last I completed my gentle left-hand turn and recrossed the coast. As soon as we were a reasonable distance from the shore, I jettisoned the remaining D/Cs (unprimed of course) and closed the bomb doors. And now I managed to gain a little height. Now that were out of immediate danger I had time to glance over my left shoulder and look at the sub. She had stopped and seemed to be lying at an angle of about 60 degrees to her original course; the dispersing foam of the explosions was still about her. As I climbed away I saw the last remaining Wellington make its run in. It had no opposition and dropped all 8 of his D/Cs in 2 sticks on the dying sub. In view of our disabled state we decided to divert to Bone, the nearest Allied airfield, where we landed safely.

Tom Layson relates:

We had been ordered to Tafaroui on detachment and that first night were ordered on the Swamp and I see from my diary were 鈥溾��..recalled after sighting 鈥� did not take off again.鈥� The next day, the 8th we were relocated at La Senia and that evening we were once again briefed for a Swamp and I recall that at the briefing we were addressed by the AOC, Sir Hugh Pughe Lloyd, who had achieved some note as OC at Malta. I recall his final words were: 鈥淚t鈥檚 a piece of cake boys!鈥�

While on patrol, with Percy on the radio and myself on the radar we had received a signal of a sighting and made for the area, then I got a sighting on the radar and was guiding Ron Holton onto the target when I detected a blip on the far side of the U boat and resumed it was an aircraft coming in from the opposite direction. I informed the pilots and we broke off to make an attack when the space was clear. On the second approach I was again guiding us in when I got the message: 鈥淲e can see it.鈥�

It was a bright moonlit night and the searchlight did not have to be used. I left my seat and looked out of the astrodome and saw a concentrated hail of flak directed at us.

Having dropped the depth charges, we realised that we had sustained some damage and Ron Holton had a hard job to keep the aircraft flying and later told me that when he did have a chance to look out of the aircraft, he was flying over land 鈥� Spain!

In the meantime, the lights and intercom had been knocked out and then Rick in the rear turret, was flashing the visual intercom system so I went back to see what he wanted. I went down to the tail and knocked on the turret and Ricky opened his doors and came out. His face was covered in oil or fluid. He had realised that we had been hit and had swung his turret to one side, opened his doors and put his head out, and had been liberally sprayed with oil where a cannon shell had gone through the propeller boss without stopping the engine from turning over, but at a reduced speed.

He told me that he had been hit in the leg and he came out of his turret and I cut the leg of his trousers and, despite the absence of light, I could discern blood from his knee to his ankle. I cleaned his wound and put some bandage where I thought it was needed and then returned to the rear turret for the flight home. On landing I was amazed to see a whole fleet of cars, fire tenders, ambulances, etc, chasing the aircraft down the runway. Ricky, we then discovered, had stopped some small pieces of cannon shell in his leg but was otherwise unhurt.

Later examination disclosed that the tailplane had been hit by cannon shells and a shell had gone through the top of the turret. Ricky was a great lover of cigarettes and always had a tin of 50 on the side of his turret. He was most annoyed to find shrapnel had pierced the tin and cut most of his cigarettes in half.

Percy finally left the RAF in July 1946 and set up home in Greenwich, South East London and worked as a menswear salesman in Gardiners based in Deptford. When I was about 3 years old we moved to Charlton, South East London where we made our home.

Andrew Kiln

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