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W/O "Nick" Nicholson 1591786

When war broke out in 1939 I was 14 years old and living in Hull. I had left school the previous year when my father died, aged just 38, to become the family breadwinner - there was no such thing in those days as the State Benefits so I had taken a job working as a delivery boy for the local Chemist. As it turned out, he was a German sympathiser who took great delight in telling everyone that the Germans would be here any day now and that it was simply pointless to fight or resist. I remember one morning he told me to clean off a large swastika someone had painted on his shop window the previous night and I decided, there and then, that he could stick his job! The next week I started a new job at the Blackburn Aircraft factor in Brough which is where I decided that, as soon as I possibly could, I would join the RAF.

When I was sixteen my two best pals and I decided that we would all join up, that way we could choose which service we entered rather than await the 'call-up' and be put wherever the Ministry of Defence decided. One of my friend was accepted into the Army and the other became a Naval Commando. I on the other hand was rejected on the grounds of being unfit. I'd had TB in my early teens, which had left me rather weak and short of breath and consiquently I failed one of the tests which involved blowing into a tube and holding my breath and a column of mercury at a certain level for 60 seconds.

I returned home fealing totally devastated but that evening my mother gave the local paper with my tea and I noticed an advert in it which read, 'Charles Atlas, holder of the title "The World's Most Perfectly Developed Man" - founder of the fastest health, strength and physque building system known.'

The next day I wrote off to Mr Atlas explaining my predicament and to my suprise he enrolled me in his 12 week correspondence course, which obviously worked because exactly three months later I was passed 'A1+' and accepted for RAF Aircrew.

I was ordered to report to London for two weeks of intensive training. This was divided into three parts consisting of ; square bashing (we marched everywhere), gymnastics and keep fit at Lords cricket ground and thirdly, instructions on how to avoid catching VD! - clearly a priority for the Ministry of Defence! I remember the food was very good indeed compared to the miserable rashions I had become used to at home and in particular I recall we had tinned peaches - every day. What luxury!

After that I was sent Driffield for yet more square bashing where the daily rashions changed to stew, potatoes and beetroot, all ladled out with a very large spoon smashed onto your plate - just like an episode of 'Porridge'. We had 20 minutes to eat the lot and then it was outside for more marching. Quick March, Quick March, Quick March . . .

For a change, on the last day we all went to Bridlington, a seaside town where I thought at last we'd have a bit of well earned rest and recouperation but as it turned out the Pysical Training Instuctor had a slightly different idea in mind. "Right lads, now you're all going to jump off the end of the pier, into the sea and swim out to those dingys." he said in a very matter of fact way as if that was something we would do every day. It must have been a good 20 foot drop into the sea, which had a good swell on at the time, and I didn't know what on earth to do as I couldn't swim. "But I can't swim sir!" I said in a state of blind panic, fully expecting to be exused. Instead he just passed me a 'Mae West' and said, "Well, what will you do if your plane crashes in the sea? Now are you going to jump or do you want me to push you in laddie!". I opted to jump - a terrifying experience for a none swimmer I can tell you but somehow by a combination of paddling, flapping and floating I made it to the dingy!

Next, came a spell at No 1 Gunnery School, Pembrey where I had my first taste of flying, in Ansons and Blenheims. I remember vividly one particular Polish pilot who, just after take off come over the intercom and said in broken English, "OK. Now we go UP! . . . and when you are all sick, we come down.' He then proceeded to 'loop the loop' his way around the Welsh valleys until we were all very sick - and then we came down. This was without doubt the most terrifying experience of my war as two planes had already crashed on training flights whilst I had been there.

Still, I had survived thus far and on September 20th 1943 I passed out with a final average of 5.49% hits to rounds fired. To this day I have no idea if that was good or bad but my logbook was signed by the C/O with the remark. 'Quiet type. Satisfactory pupil - has worked well.'

On 9th October I arrived at Abingdon to be 'crewed up'. We were alloted a pilot who for reasons that will become evident as you read on shall remain nameless. Our first flight over enemy territory was a 'nickle raid' or leaflet drop to Le Mans. For some reason, it didn't count as an official 'op' but we did encounter some flack on the way home and our pilot panicked and was conviced that we were over England and thus ordered the Wireless Operator, Ted Herod to fire a Vary Pistol with a red flare to allert the gunners below to fact we were 'friendly'. Ted at first refused but under orders and against his better judgement fired it. Immediately the gunners below opened up on us again and, as it turned out Ted was right - we were indeed over enemy territory!

On 21st March 1944 we were posted to the Conversion Unit at Rufforth, flying Halifax Mk III's on local night flights, bombing practice and cross country firing exercises. From there we went on to Elvington and then to Breighton. On one our training trips this same pilot urinated all over the Wireless Operator who was positioned below him. Ted at first thought this was an accident and said nothing but the very next flight the same thing happened again and so he and the officers in our crew all refused to fly with this chap again. As an NCO I didn't know anything about this until, along with the other NCO's, I was summond to the C/O's office to find that we were all facing a court marshall for 'Lack of moral fibre.' By a stroke of luck the C/O was himself a Wireless Operator and had great sympathy with Ted's predicament. He asked whether we were actualy refusing to fly, period, OR simply refusing to fly with this particular pilot. We all agreed with one voice that it was the latter and so no charges were brough and instead of being court marshalled we had what was without a shadow of doubt the greatest stroke of good fortune - we were allocated a new pilot, a brilliant New Zealander by the name of P/O 'Kiwi' Lawson.

'Kiwi' was older than the rest of us, probably about 30, and already an exceptional pilot and so, when he volunteer for the 'Pathfinder Force' he asked the rest of the crew if we wanted to come along with him. I hadn't even heard of the Pathfinders but it seemed like a good idea at the time and so I went along with it. The next thing I knew we were all off to 1652 Pathfinder Conversion Unit at Warboys where I was introduced to the other exceptional thing that saved my bacon throughout the war, the magnificent Lancaster bomber.

And so it was that in early July of 1944 we all arrived at No 35 Squadron, Pathfinder Force based at Graveley in Cambridgeshire, which was to become our home for the next 11 months. We were assigned Lancaster 'J' for 'Johnny' and our first opperation was a daylight raid on 23rd July to Kiel where we dropped six 2000lb bombs onto the U-Boat yards. After almost 5 years of being powerless and having to sit back and watch as my home city of Hull took a nightly pounding I was at last at war and I felt proud to be doing my bit.

On Friday 4th August the target was Trossy St Maximim. It was an all PFF raid with 61 Lancasters sent to bomb the V1 storage depot and although we endured heavy flack we returned safely to base. Squadron Leader Ian Bazalgette DFC, of 635 Squadron wasn't so lucky. His Lancaster was hit on the bomb run and two of his crew wounded. He ordered the rest to bail out but he chose to stay with the two injured men and attempt a crash landing. Tragically he landed the plane perfectly but it then exploded killing all three of them. Bazalgette was later awarded what was to be the first of Pathfinder Forces' three Victoria Crosses.

Throughout that Summer and into Autumn we bombed more V1 sites in the Foret de Nieppe, synthetic oil plants at Wanne Eickel, airfields in Holland and Belgium and port and industrial areas around Stettin. On 6th August the targets were 7 German troop positions in and around the Falaise battle area where the Canadians were facing stiff opposition. Unfortunately, some bombs fell on the Canadian positions by mistake - the first time bomber command had hit friendly troops during the battle of Normandy. Our Target Indicater markers were yellow and unfortunately so were the flares that the Canadians were using to mark their positions and the results were tragic. Although I only learned of this recently and whilst clearly we were in no way to blame, it is not something I shall forget easily.

On October 14th the target was Duisberg. This was part of a special operation code named, "Hurricane" the purpose of which was to demonstrate to the Germans the maximum combined effort of the RAF and US Bommer Command against densly populated industrial areas in and arround the Rhur. During the day of the 14th the RAF sent 1013 bombers, and that night we were one of a futher 1005 bombers. Then the following day 1251 US bombers attacked the same targets. Over all, 9000 tons of bombs were dropped in less than 48 hours! It must have been one hell of a demonstration.

Later that same month we bombed the Krupps steel works in Essen and German troop positions on the newly flooded island of Walcheren and in November more oil plants in Gelsenkirchen and further German troop positions in Freiburg.

On the 4th December, along with 29 other Lancasters crews we became 'Dambusters' when we carried out a special bombing raid on the Urft dam Although we hit the dam and knocked 13' off the top we didn't succeed in breaching it. Unbeknown to us, Air Vice Marshall Don Bennett had also been up with us on this trip in a Mosquito, to observe the raid for himself. I remember him coming into the debriefing still in his flying suit. He was a truly exceptional man and frequently accompanied his men to see at first hand the job being done. No other Group Commander ever flew on operations but this was typical of Bennett and although he demanded and accepted only excellence from his men he was respected and admired by everyone - except of course his so called 'superiors' who saw fit to dishonour him after the war by not bestowing on him the knighthood he so richly earned and undoubtedly deserved, more so than any other RAF Group Commander, all of whom were knighted.

On 6th we were part of the first major attack on a synthetic oil plant in Eastern Germany at Leuna, causing considerable damage and on the 17th we destroyed two lorry factories, a barracks and unfortunately, a military hospital at Ulm.

The Allies suffered a serious setback on the 16th December when General von Rundstedt launched an offensive penatrating 60 miles deep into Allied lines. At the request of General Eisenhower, RAF Bomber Command were asked to disrupt German lines of transportation by bombing their railway marshalling yards thus preventing reinforcement of men and supplies. By now the Winter had really set in and the weather was cold, cloudy and foggy. On the afternoon of 20th December we went to be briefed for a raid scheduled for that night on the Gremburg marshalling yards at Cologne but it was leter called off, due to bad weather. It was cancelled again the following night and so with time to myself my thoughts turned to Christmas and to my family back in Hull. Little did I know then that I would be very lucky to see Christmas Day.

On the 23rd it was obviously decided that due to the importance of the target the raid would have to be mounted as a daylight sortie comprising of 30, all Pathfinder aircraft. We were to go in three waves of 10, each led by an OBOE Lancaster backed up by an OBOE Mosquito. Due to the shocking weather I really thought the raid would be impossible. Graveley was covered with fog and I couldn't see how we could possibly take off in such conditions. But although we were the last aircraft airborn, take off we did, using FIDO, an experimental fog dispersal device.
Tragically, the raid got off to a bad start when two of our squadron's Lancs collied over the Thames estuary. Although we learnt later that the crews were picked up within half an hour it would have been impossible for them to have survived in the freezing cold water. But our troubles had only just begun. The weather forcasters had promised 10/10th, or total cloud cover all the way to and over the target area in Cologne, and so I was not anticipating any further problems. However, just before we started our bomb run the cloud suddenly vanished completely and the sky above Cologne was clear blue for miles. Sitting in the rear turret I couldn't see the thick wall of flack that we were fast approaching but suddenly it seemed as if every gun in Germany had opened up on us and it was then that we received the prearranged codeword, "Cowboy" which ment that we were to break formation and bomb independantly.
Just as we commenced the bomb run our bomb aimer, Alan Card was hit in the face by flak and became temporarily blind and deaf . At the same time our wireless operator, Ted Herod volunteered to put his head into the astrodome to look out for fighters and almost immediatly fell to the floor his head covered in blood as the astrodome was hit by flak. 'Kiwi' had to circle around the target again before Alan was in any fit state to continue the bomb run and I remember saying, "I recon we've had it!"
The sky was literally full of flak - and I mean full, and I could see enemy fighters circling around the perimmiter of the flak zone waiting to pick us off, if by some miracle we managed to get through the target. By now Alan had recovered sufficiently and made a perfect bomb drop, as his film later showed we hit the target and so , all we had to do now was turn around and go home. Then the Flight Engineer, Eddy Edmonson was hit on top of the head but fortunately for him the shapnel hit his flying helmet which deflected the impact and luckily he was not seriously injured. At the same time I had a lucky escape too when flak burst just to the side of my turret and a piece of shapnel shot through and impacted behind my head just above my left shoulder - 6 " to the right and I would have been a gonna!
Our Lanc was by now very badly shot up and limping along on three engines so I wasn't supprised when I heard 'Kiwi' talking to an Allied airfield in Belgium asking for permission to make an emergency landing. I was far too busy looking for fighters to think of anything else but the next thing I recall was 'Kiwi' saying that he going to try to make it across the channel and contacting the emergency landing base at Manston, Kent to tell them we were coming in. As we approached the Kent coast our predicament worsened as five German ME109's were seen closing in to finish us off. Miraculously, a flight of United States Air Force Mustangs was scambled and escorted us into Manston without any problems. Despite having no brake pressure, and only three engines 'Kiwi' managed to land the crippled Lancaster safely, bringing it to a halt just off the end of the long runway - fortunately the longest in England!
When I got out Eddy and I started to count the holes . . . we lost count after 100 - and that was just on one side between the wing and my rear turret. Sadly that was the end of 'J' for 'Johnny' which was written off after faithfully seeing us home on 33 missions in just exactly 5 months to the day.
The Master Bomber that night was Squadron Leader Robert Palmer, DFC and Bar. He had gone down in the target area of Cologne on his 110th mission and the citation on the postumous Victoria Cross he won that night described his record of prolonged and heroic endevours as, 'beyond praise'.
Alan and Ted went off to hospital and both were awarded immediate DFC's.
Also on this same Cologne raid was Captain Edwin Swales, a South African pilot who was also awarded the DFC that day only to die two months later performing his duty as Master Bomber on a raid to Pforzheim for which he too was awarded a postumous Victoria Cross - one of only 3 Pathfinder VC's of the entire war.

The next day Kiwi went off to identify the bodies of the two crews from our squadron who had collied on the way out, whilst Eddy and I made our way back to base. I remember arriving back at Graveley where only one of our planes had managed to return and heard that the C/O., Group Captain 'Dixie' Dean, an experienced and battle hardend, marvelous man, had been very upset, asking "What have they done to my Squadron?" Of the 30 aircraft that set out that morning at least 8 were lost and some reports put the figure as high as 11 , either way the loss rate was between 26-30% making this one of the highest loss rates for a single raid during the entire war.

Like everyone else I lived from day to day and no matter how traumatic the raids were, there was always plenty of drinking and dancing to take your mind of the war and on Christmas Day I celebrated the best present I've ever had - my life! There is no doubt that we had been very, very fortunate indeed to get back that day.

But in Pathfinder Force there was never time to reflect on what might have been and over the course of the next 96 hours we flew 4 raids; two daylight sorties; to St Vith and Rheydt and two night raids; to Bonn and Gelsenkirhen - all railway marshalling yards in the same area. After that I slept for 48 hours solid, something I had never done before, nor since. Thankfully, Group Captain 'Dixie' Dean must have realised that we desparately needed a rest and although we went to Mannheim Ludwighaven on 2nd January we didn't do any more ops until 22nd when once again the target was Gelsenkirchen.

February saw us back in the saddle with another 3 consecutive days of ops on the 1st, 2nd and 3rd to Mainz, Wanne Eickel and Bonn respectively and then came the raid that history recalls now as the most 'infamous' of all Allied raids, Dresden.
The raid was carried out in two separate waves, three hours apart. We were in the second wave and all together we dropped some 2,600 tons of bombs onto the City. As we turned for home I had a clear view from my rear turret across the whole of Dresden. All I could see was a flaming red glow which filled the horizon from one side of my turret to the other and the like of which I had never seen before. All I can remember sayings was, "Bloody Hell!" as I sat and watched the glowing skyscape slowly fading for mile after mile as we made our way home. More than 50,000 people died in Dresden that night and I recall feeling very sorry for the poor people on the ground at the time although I feel no remorse about it now. We did our job that night and we did it well. There is no such thing as a 'fair war' and whilst the politically correct historians of today, most of whom were not even born in 1945, talk of Dresden, war crimes and attrocities all in the same breath, they would do well to remember that it was the Germans who started the war and they who bombed the hell out of my home city of Hull, devastated Coventry and blitzed London. Dresden was just one of a number of key targets which we had to destroy in order to prevent the Germans from redeploying reinforcements from the Western front to fight the advancing Russians.

By now we were 'senior crew' at Graveley and our roll in future raids began to take on more important duties. In March we flew 5 ops, 3 as Primary Visual Marker, one as Deputy Master Bomber and one, to Gladbeck as Master Bomber, where the target was 'Devestated'

On 3rd April the target was Nordhausen, where there was supposed to have been a German military barracks. Unfortunately, the barracks in fact housed a large number of concentration-camp prisoners who worked in a complex of underground tunnels where various secret weapons were made. Unfortunately for them the bombing was extremely accurate and many people in the camp were killed.

The Nordhausen op was my 52nd trip and, with the war almost at an end, our crew began to disperse. In the early morning of April 14th I was sitting around the mess waiting for my discharge to come through when the Station Gunnery Officer, Squadron Leader Frazer-Petherbridge came up to me and casually said, 'We're short of a gunner, would you care to join us in the briefing room?' Well, what could I - a 19 year old Flight Sergent, possibly say to a Squadron Leader when asked such a direct question, other than, "Yes sir". I discovered at the briefing that we were to be Master Bomber and my pilot, the new C/O., Group Captain Le Good. As I was about to clamber into my usual rear gunner position, I was tapped on the shoulder by Frazer-Petherbridge who said, in a very friendly manner, "That's alright, you go in the mid-upper for a change, I'll take the rear." This raid to Potsdam, Berlin was to be my longest trip - 8 hours 15 minutes and as it turned out, the last raid of the war by a major Bomber Command force on a German city.

For what was to be my final operation of the war I was reunited with 'Kiwi', this time as Deputy Master Bomber on a raid to Heligoland where the targets were a navel base and an airfield. The bombing report on the RAF's official website now states that, 'The bombing was accurate and the target areas were turned almost into crater-pitted moonscapes!' We had become experts.

At the end of it all I had flown 57 missions with a total flying time of 509 hours 15 mins and my log book was signed off by 'Wing Commander' Le Good - he had 'demoted' himself from Group Captain in order to fly on opperational duty!

I had the very great privilledge and good fortune to fly, not only with an exceptional pilot, 'Kiwi' Lawson and a great 'crew' but also with men like 'Le Good' who was legend in his own lifetime.

I was finally posted to No16 OTU., Heyford as a Night Vision Instructor and to celebrate I went out on the town. Next day, I arrived at Heyford with a thumping handover and was immediatly summond to the C/O's office. Ihonestly couldn't remember what I'd been up to the previous night but as I marched over to his office I was preparing for the worst. All I could think was that after all I'd done for 'King and Country' I was going to end up on a charge. I knocked the door . . . "Come" shouted the voice from inside. I marched in and saluted, my heart nearly pounding out of my chest but to my astonishment the C/O stood up, return my saluted and shook my hand. He said how proud he was to have a Pathfinder as an instructer on his base and promoted me, Warrant Officer. Six weeks later my discharge came through and that same year I met, and later married my wife, Jenny. We lived in Leicester for many years before moving to Loughborough in 1973 - When I read his obitury in the Telegraph a few years ago I discovered that 'Dixie' Dean had lived just down the road and I hadn't realised!

In 1995, on the 50th Anniversary of the end of the war in Europe, I suddenly had the urge to go down to London to take part in the Rememberance Day march. After all those years I don't know what I was expecting but as it turned out I didn't know a soul and, being the 'quiet type', I came straight home afterwards. The next year my son took me down and, as I came off Horse Guards Parade, he suddenly appeared out of the crowd and turning to the chap next to me said, 'Are you going for a drink?' Stunned at being asked such a question by a total stranger this chap froze in amazement, lent back on his heels and snapped, "Who the hell are you?"
"Oh", said my son Peter, and pointing at me apologetically replied, "That's my dad and I just wondered . . ." and before he could say another word this chap had flung one arm arround me and the other arround Peter saying, "Well, why didn't you say so! We're all going to the RAF Club on Piccadilly and you and 'dad' will be my guests for Air Crew Breakfast."
The 'chap' turned out to be Air Marshall Sir Ivor Broom KCB, CBE, DSO, DFC and two bars, AFC.. Like me, he had been a Pathfinder and like me he had started out as a Sargent and although he had risen to the highest rank he treated me like a long lost friend that day - as indeed he did when I met him every year after that. I was greatly saddened to read of his death in Jan 2003. He was, like Don Bennett, that rarest of men; a leader who led from the front and was much loved and respected by all his men. That was the spirit of the Pathfinders and of everyone in Bommer Command both during the war and still today after more than 60 years. Indeed, every year we Pathfinders are made most welcome guests for an annual luncheon hosted by the Station Commander at Wyton, the home of the Pathfinder Force during the war, and now.

Nick Nicholson.

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