大象传媒

This is an extract from the memoirs of Eric Hart added to the site, with his permission, by Belinda Nash of the Folkestone Heritage Team. Kent County Council Libraries & Archives. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

With the excitement and traumas of 鈥極perational鈥� flying over enemy behind us, airborne activity took-on a more mundane nature with the Lancasters heading on a northerly route, over and beyond the Arctic Circle and becoming a 10 hour flight. The purpose being to assess the weather conditions up there, which I would then transmit back to Base, the assessment having being carried out by a trained Meteorological Observer on board. I suspect that this programme of events may have been instigated to avert the possibility of boredom setting in, amongst the crews that previously had been so active. Fortunately for me however, with my Skipper being the Squadron Commander a more exciting trip was to come my way. Two Lancasters were needed to fly a load of motor generators out to Furth Aerodrome near Nuremberg in the American zone of Germany, the second 鈥楲anc鈥� being supplied by 617 squadron at Scampton (of Dam-Buster fame). The generators were duly loaded into the bomb bays and we took-of for said destination, which then put us amongst the many U.S fighters and bombers that were stationed there. The original plan was for the two aircraft to make it back to base the same day, but with this rare opportunity with which to see this famous city, we asked the friendly American Flying Control Officer to relay a message to our bases that the deteriorating weather made that impossible. To our delight, this was done, and we were able to hitch transport into Nuremburg, and obtain accommodation in what was a transit camp. The Grand Hotel there had been taken over by Americans. We learned there was a sumptuous ballroom that became 鈥淥ur target for tonight鈥� (so to speak). Residing in all this splendour were high-ranking officers of the Allied nations who were connected with the War Crimes Commission presided over by late Sir Hartley Shawcross. One can only say that the sight of the magnificent crystal chandeliers cascading their opulence downward onto the smartest of Dress Uniforms, mingling with the sophisticated attire of the ladies on the dance floor overwhelmed us. This is the best way to describe our state of mind at that moment, for dressed as we were in R.A.F Battledress we felt, to say the least, inadequate. Any embarrassment soon disappeared when we were beckoned over to the table of a high ranking Russian officer in the company of two attractive frauleins. In Spite of a certain language problem, we were immediately offered a drink, and so we gestured that we would have what the ladies were drinking. This turned out to be cocktail containing a fair amount of Absinthe which I note from the dictionary is 鈥渁 potent green alcoholic drink, technically a gin, originally having high wormwood content鈥�. There is a more sobering term underneath: absinthism 鈥淎 deseased condition resulting from excessive drinking of Absinthe鈥� (And here I am in the year 2003 - accrediting the symptoms to old age!)

Moving around somewhat more relaxed after this, we got into conversation with a U.S Colonel, during which time he enquired where we were staying. He was somewhat horrified to learn that we were putting-up at the transit camp, and arranged for us to be picked up in the morning and transferred to The Grand. The Skipper, Bomb Aimer and myself were commissioned officers, whereas the remainder of the crew were warrant officers (the highest non-commissioned rank) so we thought there would be a problem, but not so, and we were allocated two to a room. At the earliest convenience, our slightly jaded uniforms were collected by the German staff and dry-cleaned and pressed, which made a marked difference (no pun intended), and we were given a splendid opportunity to tour the city when the colonel arranged the loan of a staff car for that purpose. I suppose we were something of a novelty out here really, for there were no other R.A.F air crew personnel around, and our attire did tend to make us stand out. I remember driving past the burnt-out shell of an F.W Woolworth store, and visiting The Nuremburg Olympic Sports Stadium which featured in the 1936 Olympics when, much to the wrath of Adolph Hitler, American athlete Jesse Owens won several gold medals (he of non-Arian blood!)

Another unforgettable experience was being given tickets to attend the 109th session of The International Military War Tribunal, held inside the Palace of Justice in Nuremburg. Earlier that morning we were guests at 鈥淭he Dungeon Club鈥� a beer hall in the basement of the building. There we were invited to take part in a comic ritual and drink to the health of 鈥淐ardinal Puff.鈥� A stein of beer is placed on the table in front of the contestant, who then has to raise the tankard with one finger, announcing that he is drinking to the health of Cardinal Puff for the first time. A complicated procedure follows this with the tapping with one finger of the forehead, chest, table, knees, and a single tap on the floor with each foot, before repeating the whole thing , substituting two taps with two fingers, and then again with three taps. There鈥檚 a pause in the procedure when a mistake is made, whereupon the Stein is topped up for a restart. So, with the inevitable mistakes occurring, I think we were all a little skwiffy when entering the courtroom. A sobering thought was the fact that we were now sitting just a matter of yards away from the Nazi hierarchy 鈥� Georing, Hess, Himmler etc. One could not but notice the bizarre conduct of Rudoph Hess, with arms folded and a blank expression on his face, and his interest seemed to be on anything other than what was going on in the courtroom鈥� Headphones were supplied to enable those present to listen in, once the chosen language had been selected.

Looking back, and recalling the desperate plight of the thousands of displaced persons we encountered on the streets, the humiliation suffered was brought home to me most vividly on the one occasion when I boarded a streetcar. Although over-loaded, I witnessed what can only be described as their obsequious behaviour as they pushed back on one another to give me a clearance all-round, so somewhat embarrassed. I alighted smartly at the next stop.

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