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Pathfinder and the Thousand Bomber Raid by Jim Simpson DFM, DFC

This is an edited version of an interview by Georgina White in May 2004. The original recording and full transcript are held in the Wessex Film and Sound Archive, ref. BAHS 110. © Basingstoke Talking History

Joining the RAF
Before the War I worked on the farm with my father, then I went to work for my uncle, driving a lorry into Belfast. Then, news of War breaking out and always being a bit of an adventurous character, I thought, ‘Well, let’s have a go,’ and I went to Belfast, volunteered, joined up and there we are.

There was no particular reason why I joined the RAF. They signed me on as an aircraftsman UTBO - so what the devil is that? Aircraftsman Balloon Operator under training! So I learned how to fly balloons. I thought, ‘Well, this is not for me,’ and at the first opportunity I volunteered for Air Crew. The big demand then was for Air Gunners rather than anything else, so I said, ’Well, better than nothing,’ so I re-registered as an Air Gunner, and ended up in Scotland for my training. I was then a Leading Aircraftsman, and I was awarded the Sergeant’s stripes.

Then, after going on a little leave, we were posted to different Squadrons. I was posted to 78 Squadron, Lynton-in-the-Ouse, it wasn’t long till I was made a Flight Sergeant and there I did about 27 or 28 operations. I wasn’t very happy with the crew I was flying with, eventually, and I had a moan at the C.O about it. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘ we’ve got a crew going to Pathfinders, and they’re short of a rear gunner, would you be interested?’ He said, ’It would mean you’d have to do another 30 or so operations.’ ‘Fine, suits me.’ So I went to Pathfinders, to 35 Squadron, Gravely. And then I carried on - instead of doing another 30 operations, I was enjoying myself and I ended up doing 102 altogether.

Pathfinders
Pathfinders were select crews that found the target and marked it for the main forces to bomb. On certain occasions your crews were selected as Master Bomber. Then you stayed on the target, circled it and broadcast to the main force, telling them when they were bombing short or over or whatever the case would be. Otherwise you marked the target, dropped your bombs and got off. We went over Italy, anywhere in Germany, France.

We did our normal training stuff. Such as, you didn’t actually bale out but you went through all the operations, you knew how to do it: reach behind you, slide the doors open, unplug your intercom, tuck your knees under and roll out. And what to do if you had to ditch in the sea but we never took it too seriously. I never actually ditched - we came pretty near to it sometimes but we managed to get away with it. Didn’t fancy spending a night in the North Sea in a dinghy, not funny.

The first aircraft that I flew in when I‘d done my training as an air gunner, was a Bolton Paul Defiant. They were used as a night fighter in the early days of the war. Then I did my first ops in a Whitley. The first op was a thousand bomber raid to Cologne. I think it took us about ten hours and we got ourselves lost and came back and landed with a strand of barbed wire round our tail where we’d got a bit too low. We didn’t do many in a Whitley, then we were on to Halifaxes. I have a photograph of my crew at Gravely, 35 Squadron Gravely. The identification number of the aircraft is B, Beer.

Then we went on to Lancasters. In this photograph those are a load of 1.000 pounders we’re sitting on. The planes are open and they close up when you’re loaded up. They can carry a 4.000 pounder, one 4,000 pounder right at the very front and all the rest could be anything, could be fire bombs or 1,000 pounder, what have you, sat round them. We carried a horrific load of bombs. One Lancaster carried as many bombs as three or four Flying Fortresses because Flying Fortress had more of a crew of gunners and whatsoever, whereas our crew was seven. You had the pilot, navigator, bomb aimer, engineer, mid upper gunner, rear gunner, radar operator. And that was all they ever carried. We may have taken somebody with us occasionally as an extra but not very often. Not that they were ever very keen.

In the rear gun turret you had your controls, which you could just reach, and you had no more space. You were cramped in there, you couldn’t stand up very well, otherwise your head was coming up through the roof. In my case what I did, which is probably one reason why I’m still here, is that I cut all the Perspex out at the front so that I could see better. To see was to live. All right, it was a bit draughty, but nevertheless - the little bit up the top was all right, but all in the front got misted up at night. When I cut the whole section out, then the back was two sliding doors, you had to reach round behind you and slide them to get out. If the doors jammed, well, bad luck but there was no room to spare, I can assure you. It’s just like sitting in a chair with the sides all round you and you could go forward, you could just about stand up with your head and shoulders up against the top and if you got cramp in your leg it was a bit painful.

We had electrically heated suits, of course, at the last but nevertheless if you’re flying 18, 20, 25, 30,000 feet it was still cold and if the electricity failed it was very cold. When we flew to Milan, Turin or Milan, you had to get pretty high to clear the Alps. I’ve seen an icicle hanging from my oxygen mask 9 or 10 inches long because the oxygen mask is tight round and it gummed up with moisture from my breath and then it dripped from the bottom and formed an icicle.

The rear turret wasn’t a very comfortable place to be, in fact it was the loneliest place in the world, because everybody else was up at the front and you were away on your own, nice and quiet and peaceful. You had communication with the people around you through your intercom but they couldn’t see you and you couldn’t see them. It was a lonely spot - but never mind, I was one of the few idiots that liked it.

Mission logs
I have a flight log for Operation Manning, February 1943, when I was at Linton-in-Ouse, and we bombed an aircraft establishment in Turin, in Italy,

Hamburg was an interesting raid. On 24th July 1943 the Flight Log reads ‘Hamburg aircraft damaged by flack, we got a few splinters and a few shell holes in us but we got back. We went back again, on 27th Hamburg was well alight, still burning and then on 29th we went back again, Hamburg was still burning.’ Other raids were Stuttgart, Hamburg, Calais, Zeebrugen, Frankfurt, Berlin.

I did 44 ops with Pilot Officer Davidson and then I went on to Squadron Leader Cresswell, until his number was up. That means his number of operations was up, you did so many and then they were screened, taken off, rested maybe for a few months and then could be recalled again if necessary. Then I was spare and of course I should have been screened, taken off but, being a bit stupid I volunteered for another crew. And so. I carried on flying.

The last one I flew with Cresswell was B Beer, on the 20th of July 1944 and then I went on to fly with Squadron Leader Bromley - he was made a Wing Commander eventually, and I flew with him until 27th November 1944 and then he was screened, taken off and I flew a couple with Flight Lieutenant Osmond to Bonn marshalling yard, Yelsonkirchen, and then I flew with Group Captain Dixie Dean and then Wing Commander Lee Good,

We were Master Bomber at Potsdam and also bombing an oil refinery at Leiuner oil refinery. At Essen we were long stop, in other words we were there till the very last of the raid. The length of a raid depends on how far away it was and normally it could be anything from five to twenty minutes.

When you came back from an operation you had to give the whole details to whoever interviewed you:, like this ‘9th March 1944) Lancaster … fighter squadron was just about to turn off its bombing run… at 18.000 feet mid upper gunner saw Focher Wolf 190 300 yards ahead on stern, closing in rapidly in a steep dive. The mid upper gave a call through go and as the Lancaster commenced a curve through to port the aircraft opened fire at 100 yards with cannon and machine gun. Using a red and green tracer and hitting the starboard tail end of the bomber before breaking away port quarter up. As the fighter broke away, both gunners opened fire and claimed hits to the underside of the E4, the Lancaster was now losing height rapidly and Focher Wolf 190 appeared to decline before rolling over and diving away to port.’

Another combat report for the target Nuremburg, 30/31st March 1944. reads ‘The rear gunner saw a single engine fighter later identified as a 109 Focher approximately 700 yards on the 5 port quarter up, he ordered pilot to corkscrew port and immediately lost fighter.‘ I could scream up to the pilot ’Corkscrew, port, go!’ - it means instead of flying he goes port, turns over and dives to port, gets in to the bottom, turns, comes back up again like a corkscrew. Then that gets the old fighter a devil of a job trying to get us. And finally, if you’re lucky, you lose him or you shoot him down before he shoots you down. But the combat report goes on: ‘30th of the 3rd 1944 Nuremburg, damaged by a fighter.’ We got shot up pretty badly with a fighter but I think between the mid upper gunner and me, we finished him off. But he made a bit of a mess of us and we crash- landed at Ford. But the aircraft was still serviceable and we flew back from Ford to base again the next day. That was so close, one of those shells, that it nicked me, cut the ear piece right out of my helmet, damm near strangled me and then went right up the aircraft and exploded half way up the aircraft. That was my rear turret in the photograph, all those holes you see were made by cannon shells from that fighter.

Army support was D-Day stuff, bombing marshalling yards at Elsenkirchen, Bonn in February 1945.

My 102nd operation was on 24th April 1945, to New Brandenburg, dropping medical supplies and my last trip was on the 10th May 1945. We landed at Leiuback and filled the aircraft with prisoners of war and brought them home.

Ahh it was a great life. I was one of the lucky people. I enjoyed myself and the thrills and the excitement really was something. Mind you, the death rate was pretty grim but you never worried about it too much, ‘Oh it can’t happen to me.’ Maybe you started out with seven aircraft. maybe lost four in the one night. Well there’s 28 men all gone. But I didn’t worry too much about it. It didn’t pay to worry too much. The average life of aircrew was 15 ops. And after that you were on borrowed time. So I suppose I was very lucky. The Devil looks after his own. They called me Happy Harry. In this photograph I’m sitting in the entrance hatch into the side of the aircraft, a Lancaster.

After the War
At the end of the War the whole Squadron flew to America on a goodwill tour and they painted the planes all white, which normally they wouldn’t have done in war time. But I missed out on that one.

Life was very tame after the War. We were demobbed, and then I stayed in England and I got a job selling timber for a while and then I started up on my own, painting, spraying, I got some small establishment with an old chap and I got going on my own then. And then I married Muriel and we eventually moved to Webbers where I spent 10 or 12 years working in Webbers - a house was available there to start with, which was the main issue. Then I finally built this place and there we go.

I joined the gliding club over at Lasham and I qualified as a pilot there and I did a few gliding trips and then the last time I actually flew was in a helicopter. And they took me up in a helicopter and gave me a grand time. In one of those Chinooks at RAF Odiham.

After the War we started up the Pathfinder club but then that finally washed out through lack of interest - all those people are gone. Only fools like me still alive. Then we used to have the Reunion of 35 Squadron but that folded up last year.

Medals
The Distinguished Flying Medal was awarded because of the number of operations I’d done and the Distinguished Flying Cross was for gunning down another aircraft or two. I’ve also been awarded the 1939/43 Star, the Aircrew Italy, they all and a French medal, the Croix de Guerre. With the DFC you’re granted £20 or £40 but, it goes to charity, and you’re granted £20 or something for the DFM to start with.

I was one of the lucky few, I wasn’t easily frightened. I enjoyed the life, it was good fun. Well I look at it this way, it would cost you an awful lot of money today for the thrills and excitement you got in those days for nothing. And you got paid for it

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