大象传媒

We were seven young men, all volunteers, selected and trained to be crew members to fly the mighty Lancaster bomber of R.A.F. BOMBER COMAND. We flew our Lancaster from an Air Base of 514 Squadron at R.A.F. Waterbeach near Cambridge, as a crew we were like a band of brothers, both when living on the Squadron and when flying Bombing Operations over Europe.
There was the Pilot and Captain, named Robert Jones, 22 years, The Navigator, 20 years, named George Robinson, The Bombaimer, named Ken Lorder, 21 years. The Wireless Operator named Frank Jones, 21 years. The Mid Upper Gunner, named Bob Lane, 30 years. The Rear gunner, named Alf Braine 18 years, and myself who was Flight Engineer who did the Co-Pilots duties, I was 19 years.
We were required to carry out thirty five bombing operations before taking a six month s rest.
N early half of all Bomber Crew did not survive and were shot 'down before they were able to complete the 35 operations, so it was highly dangerous work. We were on our twelfth operation when tragedy struck our Lancaster Bomber.
We had successfully completed a Bombing Operation on the German town of Stuttgart on the night of the 25th/26th July, 1944 but we were the due to again go to Stuttgart, which we did on the night of July 28th/29th it was out twelfth operation. We were not happy, as the operation was of eight hours duration and Stuttgart was heavily defended by Anti-Aircraft guns with many deadly night fighters en route.
On this second operation to Stuttgart we flew our Lancaster across France, South of Paris at about 11.000 feet until we reached the sky over Lorraine, still German occupied, when we climbed out of cloud into bright moon light. There was a sudden burst of Anti- Aircraft fire and the Captain, Robert told me to get down in the bombaimers compartment in the nose and told to throw out strips of metallic foil (window), to confuse the radar operated guns. This I did, however the rear gunner now reported over the radio that night fighter flares were now illuminating our bombers ready for an attack by night fighters.
Our Lancaster was suddenly struck by cannon shells that set fire to the port inner engine. The Captain Robert acted by dropping our bombs fused safe as we were over France. I was annoyed not to be in my Co-pilot's seat in the cockpit as I could have done my job by shutting down the burning engine and operating the remote switch to operate the engines fire extinguishers.
I attempted to regain the cockpit when our bomber was again hit by cannon fire and the aircraft began to go into a dive and Robert the Captain called over the radio for all to bailout by parachute. I clipped on my parachute but could not reach to open the escape hatch in the bombaimer's compartment owing
to gravitational force from the dive. There was a sudden explosion and I was hurled head first into the bombaimers observation domed window. I then felt fresh air and realized that I was falling clear of the Lancaster. I opened my parachute and looked below me and saw the glow of my aircraft burning on the ground. Burning debris was following my chute down so I steered myself sideways.
I landed badly in a field, my leg twisted and I had lacerations to my scalp from the aircraft explosion. I was someway from the glow of the burning bomber and I crawled into a nearby wood hiding my parachute under some hedges. I could hear loud voices and dogs barking. I then climbed a small tree and remained there for a while and then made my way out of the wood and found myself on a road and I saw a sign-post that read sixty kilometres to Nancy.
I then knew roughly my position in France, the time was about two forty five in the Morning, I lay in a ditch alongside the road to think about what should I do next. When I saw a man approaching on a cycle from the direction of the distant glow of my crashed Lancaster. I saw that he was wearing a beret Basque. Thinking he must be a French civilian I stepped out from the ditch as he drew level, he stopped and looked startled as I suppose wearing by uniform and black flying boots he must have mistook me for a German service man. I said
'R.A.F' then said 'Royal Air Force'. He understood and threw his arms around me and supported me while he indicated to me to go with him into a small hamlet where he knocked on the door of a house which was opened by a woman who was his wife, Madam Elizabeth Lang. His name was Charles Lang. He . spoke to her and ushered me inside the house he gave me a
drink then attended to my bleeding scalp. I then produced some small silk maps of Europe Issued to all Bomber Command Flyers to aid escaping. I pointed to Switzerland and he seemed to understand that this was a country that I wanted to go to. We did not speak each others language so we left it at that, after eating he took me up to the loft which had a thick layer of straw as insulation.. .for winter cold. I remained up there for five days except at night when the man took me out side for toilet purposes.

I was visited in the loft by a hospital surgeon Dr Henri Cornu, whom the man, Charles Lang, was an assistant Infirmier to, at the local Hospital in the nearby town of Neufchateau. He treated my scalp and examined my twisted knee. I appreciated the fact that he would be shot if the local German Garrison had discovered about his treatment of me. This also applied to Charles Lang and his wife and two small children would have been sent to a concentration camp. During the time that I was in the loft two German soldiers came to the door of the house looking for information about me. They knew that one member of my crew had escaped as they could only account for five dead members and the Navigator who had been taken prisoner, by them. Charles Lang said that he could not assist them and sold them some eggs and they went away.

On the fifth day a farmer friend of Charles came to the house with two old cycles and with one cycle of Charles all three of us set off in the early afternoon. The farmers name was Robert Selner. I was dressed in one of Charles's old suits a little small for me but presentable I also wore a beret Basque common then in France.

Charles and Robert were not happy with me firstly for cycling on the wrong side of the road, and secondly for chewing gum unobtainable in France, during the occupation. We cycled Into Neufchateau to the town cemetery where an untidy looking armed German soldier stood at the gate. We passed him going in to the cemetery where we stood with other persons at a large heap of flowers where five members of my Lancaster crew were buried. Civilians were still bringing flowers. We did not stay long as not to rouse suspicion as the Germans were still looking for me.

We then cycled to a confectionery shop in the town, and entered, the owner greeted us and we went into a parlour at the back of the shop. The Owner a Mr. Louis Didenot joined us and gave some refreshment. Re was a member of the resistance. We were the joined by Ex American garage owner who had stayed on and married after the previous Great War. .. We talked in English and he knew all about the Lancaster crash. Then I had a fright as a Gendarme in uniform entered the parlour. I thought that I had been betrayed but he was a friend of Mr. Didenot named Camille Puis...
I felt that I was safe from the Germans and stayed the night in the shop.
The following morning I was taken out to a charcoal operated car and driven at speed to a country side mill named 'Le Moulin' at Soulacourt, alongside the river Meuse. In the mill was a resistance family, Madam Duboi and her seventeen year old daughter, Mimi and her fiance, Raymond Rathier. They sheltered me and the next day a French Canadian R.A.F. rear gunner also dressed in civilian clothes was brought to the mill
. by Raymond Rathier, his name was (Sergeant) Paul Bell and a little older than me.
He had crashed in mist in a Stirling Bomber whilst looking for a drop zone to drop arms and six British soldiers by parachute to a Resistant Group. He was the only survivor of the Stirling crash.
After about four days Paul and I were driven by members of the resistance to a Spa-town named Bains-Le-Bains.
There we were taken to a junior school that was shut for the summer holidays. We stayed there with the school Headmaster named Mr Andre Pemot.

We remained there about four days until a local transport firm owner came to the school and told Paul in French, of his plan to drive us over the frontier into Switzerland concealed on the back of one of his lorries that had to deliver some pit props there. . .He was Mr Marchal Beaurepere.
We went with him to his house in the town and next day we rode with him to his cab towards the Swiss frontier. .. in the mountains we stopped to be hidden under cargo, we stopped at a farmhouse used by resistants. .. However they told Mr Beaurepere that his plan was too risky as there were French Militia Guards at Frontier check points, who were worse than the Germans.
Paul and I remained with the Maquis members of the resistance in their mountain camp and set out after two days with a guide to go to the town of Modbeliard planning to cross into Switzerland further south... We kept to the woods but upon emerging from the woods into a field near
there, they had been Hay making. We saw an armed German soldier near the gate to the field. We each took a pitch fork from the hay as though we were finishing work and carrying them on our shoulders we walked past the soldier.

Our Guide left us in a copse outside Mountbeliard for the night and next afternoon an elderly gentleman, a Mr Hauger came and took us to the home of his son in Montbeliard. His son was a secret agent of the special operations executive, his name was Jean Hauger, a schoolmaster in civilian life. His wife Elizabeth fed us and we slept in the goat shed in the garden. . ., we only went into the house to eat and listen to the B.B.C. News on the radio.

About three days later a young lad named Gilou De Lacour and an older youth named Jean Lav/al, came to the house with cycles. We were to cycle to the village of Laundresse with Gilou as guide, and Jean Hauger and Jean Laval were to go on ahead. However they were challenged by German Troops as they crossed a bridge over the river Meuse to leave town. Jean Laval was detained but Jean Hauger escaped. . .Jean Laval was taken to the Gestapo Headquarters at Bescanson where he was tortured as a Resistance suspect. He gave nothing away and was later put in a rail wagon with others to go to a concentration camp.

With Gilou, Paul and myself cycled to Laundresse via the village of Sancy-Le-Grand where we stayed the night in a barn. Arriving at Laundresse Gilou took us to a Bistro run by a Rene Cretin and his wife, Marthe. At the Bistro was Jean Hauger who told us of Jean Laval' s capture at Mont Beliard.
Jean had a room at the Bistro but Paul and I had to sleep in the stables at the rear of the Bistro, as German Officers would call in the Bistro for refreshment whilst out from the local German Barracks at Valdahon buying food supplies from farmers.
Jean had a girlfriend who worked in the office of the Prefecture of police at Montbeliard. She was a Double Agent also having A German Officer boyfriend. She obtained false identity cards for us; I was named Charles Hautier, a mute, because I could not speak French.
We spent several days at the Bistro then told Jean that we would now like to stay in France and fight with the Resistance instead of going over the mountains into Switzerland. Jean obtained revolvers for us to use and Cross of Lorraine armbands.
(continued in part 2)

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