大象传媒

This is the first section of two

FIFTY
BOMBER RAIDS
in
FAIREY BATTLES
WELLINGTONS
and
LANCASTERS

FLIGHT LIEUTENANT GEORGE PURSLOW
DFC

In 1938 I joined the Royal Air Force as a wireless operator air gunner. My training as a wireless operator took place at Cranwell then later on, in 1939, I was posted to Ireland on an air gunnery course.

On the 3rd September 1939, the day that war was declared, I had just finished the air gunnery course, and from Aldergrove in Ireland I was posted to France to join number 12 Fairey Battle Squadron, just behind the lines at a place called Berry-au-Bac near Rheims in the Champagne Area. When I joined this squadron it was the period known as 鈥淭he Phoney War鈥�. Although this was 1939, in actual fact, Hitler鈥檚 鈥渂litz鈥� did not start until the 10th of may 1940. During that time, of course, we had long training periods and we became accustomed to the territory over which we would be attacking the enemy.

The Fairey Battle Aircraft itself was rather like an elongated Spitfire. With a single engine it was capable of about 250 mph. I think that may have been with a following wind as it was very slow compared to the modern German aircraft, such as the Messerschmit, that we were pitched against. The single engine aircraft had two cockpits. In the front cockpit was the pilot and in the back cockpit, which was in the belly of the plane, were the observer (or navigator as he became known) and myself, the wireless operator/ air gunner with a single Vickers gun which had very slow fire power. The aircraft also carried, externally, four 250lb bombs. In actual fact, the Fairey Battle was obsolete and should never have been used in the war at all as it was far too slow ; but of course, at that time, Britain was not well equipped for a war and so we had to fly in these ancient aircraft.

In the Autumn of 1939, in the small village of Berry-au-Bac on the river Aisne, the rain was unceasing and the airfield soon became a sea of mud. Army engineers were called in to construct metal grids to make runways, thus preventing our Battles from sinking, but after a few take offs by the aircraft, these constructions had sunk deep into the mud. We had dug-outs, and the dug-outs too were flooded and 鈥渨ellies鈥� were most essential. I recall on a number of occasions standing almost knee deep in mud, attempting to eat a midday meal. Flying of course was restricted and almost impossible under these conditions. Much of our time was spent in lectures and discussing tactics. It seemed that history was repeating itself as we learned that the local peasants had for years been unearthing debris from the 1914-18 war as this village had been severely damaged just over twenty years previously. It reminded one of the trench warfare experienced by our fathers who had fought in World War 1.

The billets allocated to those of us who were last to arrive were semi-ruined houses that, apart from a fireplace, lacked even the slightest degree of comfort. We were provided with straw palliasses and found that by dressing in our 鈥渟idcots鈥�, that is our flying gear, we could just about manage a comfortable nights sleep. Much of our time off was spent in the comfort of the local cafe, Cafe de Ladaix.

In November 1939 the squadron moved to the village of Amifontaine where conditions were much improved. The air-gunners were billeted in a long dry barn and provided with beds made by the army engineers. We even had a gramophone and a supply of Bing Crosby records. The new airfield at Amifontaine, having a natural slope, was much drier and less muddy than Berry-au-Bac. Our dispersed Battles were camouflaged with rope netting and the air crews were allocated the tedious duty of 鈥榮crimming鈥�; that is weaving strips of canvas through the mesh of the camouflage nets, to place over the dispersed planes. I recall one observer having a card stuck on the front of his tin helmet bearing the legend 鈥淪crim for Victory鈥�!

The ground crews were kept busy constructing ramps into the wood at the edge of the airfield; these were recesses for dispersal of our aircraft.

One of the events of 1939 was the visit of Air Marshall Lord Trenchard. The aircrews were inspected by the Air Marshall and when he came to me he asked how old I was and when I told him I was nineteen, he didn鈥檛 seem to think I looked my age. The outcome was that the Flight Commander was ordered to check and if I was younger than nineteen years, I was to be sent back to England. A few months later, when the Blitz really started, I was wishing that I had been eighteen.

In February 1940 the squadron flew south to Perpignan on the Mediterranean for a practice camp. This was a real break for the aircrews as we enjoyed our frequent visits to the city.

On the 10th may 1940 Hitler鈥檚 Blitzkrieg started. Although there had been several 鈥榝laps鈥� over March and April, the first morning of Hitler鈥檚 Blitz took us completely by surprise, and all the flying crews were in bed when our airfield, 3km distant, was heavily bombed by Junkers. By the time we reached the airstrip quite a bit of damage had been done but not one of the dispersed aircraft had been lost, although a number of unexploded bombs were embedded in the vicinity.

A daily routine order dated 12.5.1940 reads:
鈥淚n view of the fact that unexploded bombs are lying in the vicinity of the aerodrome a circuit of the day is to be introduced. The aerodrome circuit will be changed from day to day so that the aircraft taking off do not need to turn towards areas which are dangerous.鈥�

On the 10th of May we lost our first aircraft on a low level over the German lines when the Flight Commander F/Lt Simpson and his crew were shot down. The Flight Commander was pulled from his blazing cockpit by his gunner and observer. He was in a serious condition and was later repatriated to England by the Germans who found him, terribly burned, in a French hospital.

On 12th of May 1940 our squadron sent out five Fairey battles to bomb bridges at Mastrich. Despite heavy enemy anti aircraft fire, the low level attack succeeded in destroying the bridges. We suffered many losses that day. The leader of the formation, Flying Officer Garland and his observer Sgt Tom Gray were later awarded VC鈥檚 posthumously, the first aircrew awards of the VC in World War II. One thing that puzzled us was the fact that there were three men who died on that plane; the pilot got a VC, the observer got a VC and the airgunner got nothing. That day, all the attacking 鈥楤attles鈥� we sent out were shot down, either by enemy fighters or anti-aircraft fire. Two men did manage to walk back but it was indeed a very sad day as far as the squadron was concerned.

On the 15th of May I took part in operations to Sedan. This was a night operation and we experienced very heavy anti-aircraft fire on approach. We dropped our bombs and also visited a small town in Germany where we dropped leaflets. My job was to despatch them and they were dropped in bundles from 12,000 ft. Understandably they would be well scattered before they reached the ground, so rubber bands were put round the bundles and as they fell through the air the rubber bands worked loose and, in theory, the leaflets would scatter nicely by the time they reached the town.

When we returned from that raid we found a panic at the base and discovered that the squadron was retreating and we were expected to go with our plane to the next airfield. While our plane was being refuelled and we were having breakfast, quite an amusing incident happened. We discovered that we had a number of bottles of champagne; remember we were in the Champagne district and champagne cost us very little there at that time. I recall it was the equivalent of half a crown (twelve and a half pence) for a bottle. Well, we had all these bottles of champagne and the question was what were we going to do with them now that we were moving. Should we give them to the ground crews to take on to the next place for us? We didn鈥檛 think we would get far there and would probably just have got empty bottles at the other end, so the only solution was 鈥渓ets drink the champagne鈥�. Well we drank the champagne and that morning when we got back up into the air I felt pretty good, so good in fact that if the whole German Air Force had come at us that morning I could have shot the lot down, I鈥檓 sure of that! We set our course south for Troyes where, despite the champagne, we found the small village of Eschemines that was the home of our new airfield.

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