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This is the story of Sergeant Jack Marsden, a flight engineer in the RAF who, together with his crew, was shot down on the night of 3rd/4th May 1944 during a bombing raid on Mailly-le-Camp in the département of l’Aube, in northern France.

His crew mates were: Pilot Officer Garnett Thomas (Garth) Harrison, RAAF (pilot); Sergeant Ralph William (Bill) Watson, RAAF (navigator); Sergeant Eric William John Ashford, RAF (bomb aimer); Flying Officer Geoffrey Vivian (Geoff) O’Brien, RAAF (mid upper gunner); Sergeant Robert Henry (Bob) Haynes, RAF (wireless operator) and Sergeant Henry (Harry) Pickford, RAF (rear gunner).

Jack died in 1978, aged 53. His daughter, Janet, reconstructs his story here, using Jack’s recollections, eyewitness accounts and a variety of historical sources which enable the reader to vividly imagine the conditions in war-torn France in 1944 into which a nineteen-year-old RAF airman found himself thrown……..

Wednesday 3rd May 1944, 21.15 hours………….

…….and a twenty-four year old Australian pilot of 166 squadron, Garth Harrison, climbs into the cockpit of his waiting Lancaster at Kirmington air base in Lincolnshire. He’s one of twenty-four 166 pilots readying their crews for take-off that warm, early spring evening. But in total, 173 Lancasters of 1 group, to which Garth’s 166 squadron belongs, would follow 173 Lancasters of 5 group into the air. Their destination? Mailly-le-Camp, a former French Army Camp which had been taken over by the Germans as a training base for its Panzer Tank Batallions and which is situated 140 kilometres east of Paris. In addition to a tank training ground, there was a firing range, workshops and accommodation for 5,000 troops. A strategically important target in the run up to the planned D Day landings……….

At dispersals, the waiting aircraft looked menacing against the night sky, their cockpits rising almost twenty feet above the tarmac. The green and brown earth shadings of the upper surfaces gave way to matt black flanks and undersides, the four Rolls-Royce Merlin engines breaking the sweep of the wings. Then, yet more waiting around for crews, as the airmen grabbed the opportunity for a last smoke while the night sky darkened and then lightened as the moon rose. Much to think about and mull over as the minutes ticked slowly by. Many airmen felt that it was the long hours of waiting and expectation that sapped them more than anything which happened to them once airborne. That, together with mental calculations of the odds against them surviving the coming trip. Normal loss rates were running at never much less than 5%, or one aircraft in twenty doomed on every operation. You didn’t have to be a genius at maths to calculate how the odds of your personal survival were against you in a tour of thirty operations.

To make matters worse, the crews on for Mailly that night were subject to the ‘one third of an op’ rule which had been introduced in the spring of 44 when Bomber Command’s early experiences against the French targets and the weakness of the Luftwaffe’s response, convinced the commanding officers that there was some degree of ‘safety’ in sorties to French targets.

On the signal, Garth the pilot, and Jack Marsden, the nineteen-year-old flight engineer swung themselves up into the Lancaster’s fuselage and started the Merlin engines one by one. Garth was high up in the cockpit, Jack, beside him to his right.

Jack, together with the rest of his crew, had been posted to his squadron at Kirmington on 21st March 1944. He was the son of a Yorkshire coalminer, but had attended Hemsworth Grammar School and stayed on long enough to take his School Certificate in a number of subjects. He wasn’t to follow his father down the pit. He’d been taken on as a clerk in the railway offices of LNER (London-North-Eastern Railways) but had enlisted at Doncaster at the earliest opportunity. Now, his specialised training as a flight engineer, which he’d started at No.14 ITW (Initial Training Wing) at Bridlington and completed at No. 4 School of Technical Training at RAF St Athan, was over.

Beyond Garth and Jack, sat Bill Watson, Australian navigator, twenty-one, who worked bent over a curtained-off table, lit by an anglepoise lamp. Behind him was Bob Haynes, twenty-three, wireless operator, his back to the bulk of the main spar between the wings, which formed a waist high barrier in the middle of the fuselage. In the nose of the aircraft was Eric Ashford, the twenty-one-year-old bomb-aimer whose ‘attack’ position was stretched full length over the front escape hatch. When bombs had been despatched, he was free to watch for fighter activity from the astrodome and had also been trained as a gunner so he could man the twin front guns to frighten the light flak gunners on low-level operations.

The mid upper turret was occupied by Geoff O’Brien, Australian air gunner, twenty-one and the rear turret by Harry Pickford, a month younger than Jack at nineteen years five months. He may have been the ‘baby’ of the crew but he bore the awesome responsibility of manning four .303 Browning machine guns, tucked away in his isolated and vulnerable rear turret.

The crew busied themselves with their pre-flight checks. Jack started to fill in his aircraft log sheet, detailing how much fuel was in which tank, noting oil pressures. Then as soon as Garth started the engines, there were further details to be entered in the log, recording their functioning as they warmed up. Finally, Garth, as commander of the aircraft, having carried out a pre-flight inspection of the exterior of the Lancaster and the controls, then signed Form 700 which certified that the aircraft had passed all the ground crew inspections and was fit to fly.

Jack speaks over the intercom:

‘Engineer to pilot. Rear hatch closed and secure. OK to taxi.’

Garth signals to the ground crew to slip the chocks and closes his window. All over the airfield, the twenty-four Lancasters detailed for the attack on Mailly-le-Camp lumber into movement, bumping slowly round the perimeter to the end of the runway. Waiting almost over as the Lancasters in front take off one by one in rapid succession. Finally, Garth is next in line, sees the green light signalling his Lancaster’s turn to take off and directs the heavily-laden aircraft (maker’s ID number, ME 749) down the runway.

It had been decided that the Mailly operation was to be run utilising the pin-point low-level marking techniques pioneered and being perfected by Wing Commander Leonard Cheshire, who led 617 squadron, better known as ‘the Dambusters.’ It was a tricky target to hit and the last thing the RAF wanted was to incur French casualties in the surrounding villages. Cheshire, together with those ex-Pathfinder crews who now found themselves attached to 5 group, would mark the bomb-aiming points carefully, before the Main Force comprising an approximately equal number of Lancasters from both 5 and 1 groups were called in to bomb. The Main Force on this occasion would therefore amount to almost 350 Lancasters, split into two ‘waves’ of attack.

Cheshire himself was in charge of the marking operations and therefore was designated ‘Marker Leader’. When completely satisfied with the marking operation, he was to communicate as such to another 5 Group officer, Wing Commander Laurence Deane of 83 squadron, who was designated ‘Main Force Controller’ and who would only call in the two waves of Lancaster bombers when Cheshire communicated his satisfaction with the marking. Another 83 squadron pilot, Squadron Leader Neville Sparks would act as ‘Deputy Controller’ if Deane was shot down or had mechanical trouble.

The attack was timed to open at 00.01 hours. This was the time when Wing Commander Leonard Cheshire as Marker Leader would start his attempts to accurately mark the aiming points for the Main Force. He would be guided to the correct area by proximity flares dropped three minutes earlier at 11.58 hours by Mosquitos equipped with the ‘Oboe’ navigational system and the whole area was also to be lit by illuminating flares which would make the job of marking the aiming points easier.

Two main aiming points were chosen. The first, to the south-east of the main blocks of barrack buildings, was to be bombed by Lancaster crews of 5 group who would be the first wave of aircraft to arrive. Bombing by 5 group was planned to last for six minutes from 00.06 hours to 00.12 hours. The second aiming point, to the north-west of the main blocks of barrack buildings, would be bombed by Lancaster crews of 1 group, who would commence the second wave of bombing nine minutes after 5 group, between 00.21 hours and 00.26 hours. The nine minutes lapse in bombing was to allow for the marking of 1 group’s aiming point. Jack’s squadron, 166, was part of 1 group and would therefore be in the second wave of bombers.

Having decided that the bombing was to be carried out in two waves of just over 170 Lancasters of 5 Group and 1 Group respectively, and having determined that the bombers should not be called in to bomb until Cheshire, as Marker Leader was absolutely satisfied that the bomb aiming points had been marked to his satisfaction, some means of keeping the Lancasters in check whilst waiting for the order to bomb had to be devised. Thus the Lancaster pilots had been briefed to head for an assembly point marked by yellow target indicators, where they were to occupy themselves in making wide left hand turns whilst awaiting the order to go in and bomb.

By 22.25 hours all bombers in the Main Force were airborne. Climbing steadily, the Lancasters from all the different bases providing bombers for the operation flew almost due south to the first turning point at Reading, which was a regular assembly point for RAF bombers. It was here that the squadrons of Lancasters converged in turn, manoeuvring into position at their allotted heights and speeds to form two individual bomber streams bound for Mailly. They continued south-east over Beachy Head and headed for the French coast about ten miles north of Dieppe.

By the time Jack’s Lancaster was approaching Mailly, there was a rather large and visible clue as to where they were heading — vivid yellow target indicators, cascading from the night sky, marked an assembly point twenty-two kilometres north-north-west of Mailly, near the village of Germinon. If they could be seen so clearly by the approaching bombers, they would surely be equally visible to German defence forces on the ground — it wouldn’t be that long before the night fighters of the Luftwaffe were scrambled.

Much has been written about the Mailly raid and the reasons for the debâcle which it turned out to be. Interested readers could turn to Jack Currie’s book, ‘Battle Under the Moon’ or read Max Hasting’s brief account in his book, ‘Bomber Command.’ Suffice it to say here that, for a number of reasons, primarily resulting from the Main Force bombers being detained over the assembly point whilst awaiting the order to begin dropping their bombs, German night fighters from nearby bases had sufficient time to get airborne and wreak havoc. The delay in transmitting the order to go in and bomb had been caused by a catastrophic breakdown in both Morse and radio communications.

Many Lancasters were therefore pursued and shot down by German fighter planes before being able to discharge their bomb loads. Terrible explosions filled the air as Lancaster after Lancaster was blown out of the sky. Although no French civilians were killed by the bombs, which were dropped by the aircraft that managed to make it through to the target area, some families were killed when debris from falling planes fell on their houses.

In total, forty-four aircraft were shot down during the operation, including fourteen Lancasters of 5 Group and twenty-eight Lancasters of 1 Group, the heavier losses of 1 Group accounted for by the longer period of time they had to spend orbiting the assembly point. Also lost were one Mosquito and one Halifax. That equated to almost 260 fatalities plus another 60 aircrew who baled out alive.

Jack Marsden’s Lancaster, forming part of 1 group, had been forced to wait over the assembly point whilst awaiting the order to bomb. It must have been a stressful wait. Each Lancaster was laden with a 4000 pound ‘Cookie’ and fifteen or sixteen 500 pounders — a lot of high explosive should a crew have the misfortune to be hit before dropping their bomb load.

Twenty-five minutes after midnight and Eric Ashford, bomb aimer, lay in the nose over his Mark XIV bomb sight. Navigator, Bill Watson and wireless operator, Bob Haynes had probably temporarily left their work stations to join the gunners straining their eyes to watch out for predatory fighters at this, the most vulnerable moment of all. The whole crew would have held their collective breath as Eric gave his instructions to Garth: ‘Left, left…..right a bit…..steady…..’ Then there would have been a sudden ‘twang’ from beneath them and a ‘Bombs gone’ from the nose. For a few seconds they held course until the photo-flash fell from the aircraft and exploded to light the sky for their aiming-point picture, without which the trip could not count towards their tour.

Having bombed the target successfully, the pilot maintained a heading south, away from Mailly until they reached the next turning point ten miles further on, near the town of Troyes. The plan then was to turn to starboard and fly westward past Fontainebleau, climbing on the way to regain 12,000 feet. At a point south of Paris, they were then to turn ten degrees north and fly for 160 miles to a pinpoint near Flers, and then due north to cross the coast at Arromanches. The cross-Channel leg would have brought them to a landfall at Selsey Bill, and from there they would have made their way back to Kirmington.

In the event, Jack’s Lancaster only got as far as the skies to the west of Troyes.

At about 00.35 hours, some five minutes or so after the crew had discharged their bomb load over Mailly, rear gunner, Harry Pickford’s voice suddenly cut in over the intercom, informing the pilot that he’d observed a German fighter plane astern. Garth immediately threw the plane into a series of stomach churning corkscrew manoeuvres in an attempt to escape from the fighter. The Lancaster, despite its weight and size was highly manoeuvrable, and therefore stood some chance of eluding its pursuer. Despite keeping up the attempt for some ten minutes, the crew members suddenly heard bursts of machine gun fire from the rear gunner and then a short burst of enemy fire in return which struck the Lancaster’s fuselage.

There was no time to lose. The Lanc was on fire and wouldn’t be able to maintain height for very much longer. The stunned crew members then heard their captain’s terse order to bale out, galvanising them into action.

Eric Ashford was positioned in the nose of the plane, over the front escape hatch. It was his job to open it. He jumped, followed by Jack then Bill Watson. He later recalled seeing Bob Haynes readying himself to jump immediately after him, and that Garth had his parachute on. All these five crew members baled out successfully through the front escape hatch. The two gunners on board, being positioned further back in the fuselage, had their own escape routes to follow. In the event, only Geoff O’Brien, the Australian mid upper gunner, managed to get out safely, although, like Eric Ashford, he would be captured by the Germans shortly after baling out and spend the rest of the war as a POW. No such luck for Harry Pickford the rear gunner. He was either fatally shot in the plane, or so badly injured that he was unable to escape from the rear turret. He went down with the Lancaster and his remains were interred at the church at St Maurice-aux-Riches-Hommes, before being transferred in 1972 to the British Military Cemetery at Terlincthun, Pas de Calais.

• Continued in chapter two

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Becky Barugh of the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Shropshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Jack Marsden's daughter Janet and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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