大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War Website by Elizabeth Perez of Stockport Libraries on behalf of Leslie Landells and has been added to the site with his permission. He fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

On returning to Wickenby, we were told that having completed a full tour of operations, we were entitled to extended leave. We went off in our various ways, visiting our homes and friends. Sometimes we separately, in small groups or all the crew together, visited Lincoln and the surrounding countryside. Once, with Marie, now my wife, we stayed with Fred鈥檚 family in Hainault, which borders Epping Forest.

I can鈥檛 bring to mind many memories or happenings during this period, nor in any chronological order. Peace in Europe had come suddenly for us, when one considers the state of tension we had all been operating under for so long. But as Skipper, I was fairly certain that the crew felt the prospect of 鈥榖reaking up鈥� very deeply. After all, we had as strangers met as individuals, grown closer and closer as we depended upon each other and flew together as a team.

Boris, Fred, George, Pat and myself hoped to arrange a reunion. However, although I met Fred, Pat who had been staying with him had by that time, been posted home to Australia.

The dropping of the atomic bomb had led to VJ Day. Fred, Boris and George were posted to India. I never saw them altogether again. They were allocated duties driving 鈥榯op brass鈥� around in India mostly, I believe, until they were demobbed.

鈥楤ud鈥� we completely lost touch with for a time, but a few years later we found out that when he had been demobbed, he had taken up his pre-war trade as a bricklayer. And that later, after quite a while, he had rejoined the R.A.F. after he had been divorced. I had not been certain he was married, but then 鈥楤ud鈥� was always a real loner. Eventually, Pat, Boris and myself finally found out, that he had stayed in the R.A.F. until retirement. He ended his R.A.F. career, I was told, as the most Senior NCO/Warrant Officer Navigator in the R.A.F. I saw one of his log books when I visited him years later in a public house called 鈥楾he Dying Gladiator鈥�, which he tenanted near Boston Spalding, Lincolnshire. He had accumulated thousands of flying hours with impeccable references as to his ability. Having flown with many very senior R.A.F. officers in many parts of the world.

Our crew always knew, even in our young days, that he was 鈥榦ne of the best鈥�. What I cannot understand and accept, even now, is why he wasn鈥檛 awarded a commission. Personally, I thought it could have been because he was only a village boy like myself. He was born in Harrington, Cumbria (situated only 2.1/2 to 3 miles from Distington, Cumbria, where I was brought up after being orphaned). Then I was sometimes reminded that Flight Sergeant Pilots, like myself, could be commissioned later in the war, if they flew on bombing missions. As his Skipper I completely accept that Albert 鈥楤ud鈥� Storey was a better Navigator, than I was a Pilot (I was only rated higher than average once in training). There was talk of a serious misdemeanour in his youth, which I find hard to believe, but even so, surely not sufficient to de-rate a most competent and long serving member of our Armed Services?

I only met him once again, when most of the crew had arranged a special crew reunion at Wickenby airfield. At that time the airfield was being used for crop spraying and a small airfreight business to Europe. The holder of the tenancy was said to be an ex-Squadron Leader, who had flown from Wickenby during the war. Two old hangars had been utilised to hold the vast amount of insecticide needed (it could have been DDT). Most other buildings, sections and Nissan huts had been dismantled, but the Control Tower remained and was being used for its original purpose. Sadly, only Boris, 鈥楤ud鈥�, Pat and myself made it. We had lost touch with 鈥楳arty鈥� and George and Fred couldn鈥檛 come. Afterwards we had a snack in the local pub, reminisced, grew closer together and drank a toast to absent crew members and all our comrades. It was dusk when we drove past the Wickenby Memorial and the two main runways where we used to take off and land so often many years before.

Actually, when I had been living and working in Gainsborough, Lincolnshire quite a few years later, I occasionally drove to Wickenby. This was before the memorial was erected and only a few signs of activity remained around. I used to drive in the main entrance up to the Control Tower, and then drive up the main runway, even though there was grass 2ft long growing between sections, and in my imagination I was taking off in a Lancaster again. But the feelings that came over me when I stopped, got out and looked towards Lincoln Cathedral standing as proud as ever, were hauntingly moving. I could see and feel in my mind鈥檚 eye: Lancasters coming home.

I never met George again, but after he died at over 90 years of age, I made contact with his daughter and we still correspond.
He seemed to have lived fairly well. He lived close to Fred near Leigh on Sea, Essex and they met occasionally. But he never reached out to make contact with any other member of the crew to my knowledge. His daughter told me he always spoke highly of the crew.

Fred mainly kept in contact with Pat, who had stayed with his family for some time after being demobbed, before going back to Australia. Fred and his brother, Jim took over their father鈥檚 engineering business.
Fred, Boris, Pat and myself corresponded for many years. Then a most sad experience for all who knew him occurred: one Sunday morning when Fred was working overtime alone 鈥� he was always very conscientious 鈥� he stumbled and fell through a plate glass door or window and severed a main artery. Fred was said to have been in very good health, but sadly, he was already dead when found. I still write to Hilda and his brother, Jim and family.

As for Eric 鈥楳arty鈥�, as I have already mentioned, myself and the crew lost touch with him for many years. But eventually I found out he had been living in Carlisle, made contact with his family, but unfortunately this was just after he had died.

Boris, our Bomb Aimer, kept a hotel in Rochester, Kent for some years. Divorced and remarried, he bought a newsagents-cum-post office in Alton, Hampshire. Eventually he sold the business and retired but continued to work part time for the new owner for many years. For twenty years or more, he has been a R.A.F.A. Welfare Officer for the Hampshire area. He was recently awarded the Certificate of Merit by Chief Vice Air Marshal Robin-Lees in recognition of his long and caring service.
Another crew member of whom we are all proud to have had as a comrade and friend.

Last, but not least, we come to Pat Dwyer. I think that he was demobbed fairly quickly on his return to Australia. He married well and over the years prospered. He studied to be an Accountant and then was a Senior Director of a company and part owner of the company with which his wife鈥檚 family already had important connections.

He always kept in touch with his wartime comrades and Australian ex-servicemen鈥檚 associations. Researching for squadron records even in the UK. He spent untold hours passing such information on to his friends and others. This helped to bring old comrades who had lost touch, together again. The amount of documents and records was huge. That is why I feel certain he was able to provide such details of our bombing missions. Over the years he travelled by air and rail to most of the major towns and cities of Australia to attend squadron and R.A.A.F. reunions. He came to the UK quite a number of times to visit old friends and to attend 626 Squadron reunions. Also some of the reunions held by former R.A.A.F. 460 Squadron in Binbrook, Yorkshire.

He came over to the UK and brought Geoff Magee, Warrant Officer/wireless operator/air gunner with him more than once.
Geoff was another sterling 鈥楢ussie鈥� character. He published a book of poems titled 鈥楤ombs Gone鈥� and other poems. Highly recommended by all those who have read it, such as senior R.A.F. personnel, some of whom flew with the squadrons involved. This is yet another example of true comradeship, of which all the crew were proud. Especially Boris and Pat who are still with us and, as for myself, I also feel rather humbled.

Incidentally, on the back cover of Geoff鈥檚 book of poems is a quotation which reads as follows:

鈥淲hen you read this book you must immerse
Your thoughts and feelings in metre and in verse
For the stories here told are of the kind
That come from the soul as well as the mind.鈥�

As I have said before, Geoff Magee was a brave and godly person. They don鈥檛 come any higher than Geoff in the estimation of those who knew him. I met him briefly once or twice, when he came over from R.A.F. Binbrook to see Pat and some other Aussie aircrew he knew. Also once finally with Pat at a 626 Squadron reunion at Wickenby. He was just as many others had said he was like, and I had imagined and felt when I had read his poems. Incidentally, all profits from the book of poems goes to the R.A.F. 460 Squadron Association charity. Pat said Geoff only ever wrote one poem about a particular crew. That was our crew which he called 鈥楲es Landells鈥� Crew鈥�.

In the short time I spent with him however, we seemed to understand and like each other. But it really was to Pat he owed his special friendship. For as Geoff mentions in his poem to our crew, Pat supported him so much after he escaped and returned from being shot down and some of his crew had been lost. After which all his hut mates were killed in the Munich operation within a week. (This is similar to 鈥楳arty鈥� when all of his crew mates were killed during his training. I have always felt I had a unique bond with 鈥楳arty鈥� and Geoff having survived my crash in the Wellington bomber at Peplow 鈥� we also had in common that we had all 鈥榩ressed on regardless鈥�). Pat always said that Geoff would have liked to have been a member of our crew. (He certainly would have fitted in).

As for myself, until VJ Day, I had anticipated having to go to the Far East theatre of war to fly Lincoln bombers, which were a modified version of the Lancaster bomber, with special engine modifications for the climatic conditions and higher altitudes, and an 8ft/12ft wider wing span. I seem to remember seeing one or two at a distance on Wickenby airfield before I was posted to R.A.F. Wymeswold on Transport Command to fly Dakotas. First of all we had to study the usual ground subjects. However, before long I found that a longstanding cartilage knee problem, had flared up, and after seeing a specialist, I was sent to the R.A.F. hospital in Raucby, Lincolnshire for the necessary operation. Here again, I felt humbled, as most of the patients had very serious injuries. Alongside the ward I was in, was a burns unit. Some of the patients were laying full length in saline baths. Others came around the wards occasionally to welcome newcomers and ostensibly to cheer them up. Readers will no doubt have read the history of such burns units, so I won鈥檛 repeat them. (I really couldn鈥檛 do them justice). One day when Marie, my wife visited me, one patient came to my bedside. We chatted for a short while. His facial burns were so bad we could have cried. This officer was so brave to face us and you could feel deeply that he was trying so hard to come to terms with his condition, with which he was going to have to suffer and cope with for the rest of his life. Again, I was humbled, on this occasion as never before.

From Raucby I was sent to Loughborough College which during the war was being utilised as a R.A.F. rehabilitation unit. It was chockfull of R.A.F. casualties. There were splints, bandages, crutches, wheel chairs etc everywhere, but again only a little gloom. As I improved, I was allowed exercise on the playing fields. Those who could also played football. Even some on crutches tried their best. The usual NCO P.T. instructors were there, among others: Sgt. Raich Garter, Stamp and a pre-war Ireland International goalkeeper, I think called Doherty, who at that time was playing for Derby County. We formed teams and they joined us on the football pitch. As usual, to keep us occupied we were taken on walks with the ubiquitous breaks for 鈥榗har鈥�. These professional footballers joined in and did their very best to help and keep up the morale of the walking wounded. They were a credit to their profession and nation.

Then I had another setback, I was diagnosed as having a hairline fracture to my right ear drum and I was categorised as being unfit to fly. The Doctor said it was most likely to have been caused during one of the high speed spins and extremely rapid loss of altitudes I had undergone on operations. At this juncture, I was devastated, as I then knew I would never be accepted as a pilot ever again. Leaving Wickenby, the Lancasters, our crew and Squadron comrades left me deeply saddened and rather lost. But then I thought I would be flying Lincoln bombers before too long and it seemed likely I would meet at least some of 626 Squadron aircrew along the way. Not forgetting that by then, I had gained through experience and through flying in such demanding situations, a very high level of confidence and ability; which was supplemented by regular flying training between operations. Also when learning to train as a pilot and between postings, I had taken special tests, including those on a Link Trainer for blind flying. Once I was even sent to an Army Commando Training camp at Whitley Bay, Northumberland. (Also I really wanted to keep flying). Pre-war, I had only received a basic education and had no qualifications.

After being demobbed I began looking for a job. I applied for an interview with British Airways. I travelled to Bushey Park, Surrey which had been the headquarters of General Eisenhower US Army up to 鈥楧鈥� Day 6th June 1944. No joy however as hundreds of demobbed pilots, some with more flying experience than me, and fitter, took preference. After a lot of searching, I was eventually offered a place on a Government Training Scheme. This consisted of a six months special course at Leicester Technical College. Subjects covered were most aspects of industry, followed by 3 years or so familiarisation and training with an established company. At the end of the course I was accepted by an engineering firm in Gainsborough, Lincolnshire, only a few miles from R.A.F. Hemswell and R.A.F. Wickenby, which I visited occasionally (they reminded me of another world).

By this time, Marie and I were married with a daughter and settled in the town. I attained a junior executive position and spent some good years with the firm. I then moved to another engineering firm in Lancashire and our family had grown, we also had a son. My new position was Assistant Production Controller. I had only held the position for a few months, when the Production Controller resigned and obtained a position elsewhere. I was offered the job, accepted and stayed with the company for 30 years. I was promoted to Production Director in my latter years and I retired in 1983.

My staff and many other members of staff, arranged a 鈥楾his is Your Life鈥� on my behalf which was held in a local church hall. My wife and family had known for some time, but it came as a complete and pleasant surprise to me. Among other lovely gifts, I was presented with a model of a Lancaster bomber on a wooden hand carved stand, inscribed with the words: 鈥楥oming In On A Wing And A Prayer鈥�. I was much moved and needless to say, I still am.

My hobbies during the years of my retirement have been: gardening, walking, fishing and reading non-fiction accounts of the war and most subjects on history etc. Most importantly, getting to know my grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Go to, "What happened to Les' Bomber Crew after the War Part 2" By Leslie Landells

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