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Some evenings after take off we would circle base for an hour to gain height before setting course for Mablethorpe or Sheringham and from there set course for the Dutch coast. Our operations in May, June and July were to the Ruhr. After bombing we would often climb to 25,000 ft and then when leaving Holland start to descend. After we were well clear of the Dutch coast Jack would put in George, the automatic pilot, and on approaching 8,000 ft where you no longer required oxygen he would light up a corn cob pipe, lay back in his seat and puff away contentedly. I didn鈥檛 approve of it but said nothing. In any case he was the captain of the aircraft and everything was going beautifully. Looking back now I suppose we were too complacent. A German night fighter could have followed us out and shot us up, although the two gunners were probably still on the alert. On arriving back at base, Jack would call up control, and it was usually a pleasant WAAF voice that answered giving the QFE which was the barometric pressure at base. The pilot would then reset his altimeter before commencing his landing procedure. In that summer of 鈥�43, the dawn would often be breaking as we landed and it was truly a grand feeling to leave the aircraft and take the lovely cool fresh air knowing that you had one less operation to do.
The bus would then turn up and take us to the locker room where we dumped unwanted kit. It was then on to the briefing room for de-briefing and interrogation. On entering we would be met by a WAAF with a mug of hot coffee laced with rum, and for those that smoked a cigarette. For interrogation the crew would sit in armchairs in front of an intelligence officer, quite often a blond WAAF with goo-goo eyes. I have never seen eyes like they were. Most of the interrogation was the pilot, navigator and bomb aimer. Although if the gunners had engaged enemy fighters a combat report would be made. All I had to do was to hand in my log which would eventually be checked by an engineering officer and fuel consumption figures checked. Inwardly you would feel sorrow for those who did not return.
After de-briefing you would go to the Mess and be served a nice meal, usually bacon and eggs. Then it was to the house for bed and a good sleep. It was absolutely wonderful to get between the sheets, and on one or two occasions I could still sense the motion of the aircraft. I had come to the conclusion a long time ago that an airman鈥檚 best friend was his bed. If it looked like being a fine day, the gunners Wally and Ronnie would get their beds outside in the uncultivated garden. I slept inside with doors and windows open. As I remember it was a good summer. They served meals fairly late at the Mess and so when you finally crawled out you could get a dinner at the Mess. The staff were very considerate and we were well looked after. When there was no operation a 鈥渟tand down鈥� and we would go into Lincoln. There was a bus stop just outside the main gate. On those nights Lincoln would be full of aircrew. It was generally a pub crawl which would often finish up at the Saracens Head, labelled by some as 5 Group Briefing Room. The Intelligence Officer once said that if you want to know anything about Bomber Command, have a chat with the barmaid at the Saracens Head. There were dances at the Assembly Rooms but I only went there once. Between our living quarters and the Sergeants Mess was the Motor Transport Section where there was a wooden hut which was the WAAF drivers rest section. The drivers were often sat outside the rest hut and Wally, Ronnie and myself had WAAF driver girlfriends, though nothing serious. We once went to a Variety Show with them at the Theatre Royal, Lincoln. There were also film shows on the camp and when we went on an operation, WAAFS were often at the take off point to wave us off.
On our twenty second operation on Cologne we were attacked by a fighter on the bombing run. We took evasive action and both our gunners opened fire and 10 to 15 seconds later the fighter dived away in flames. On another attack on Cologne on the 8/9th July we had, when returning, a photo flash flare blow up over the North Sea. It had not released over the target but was primed with a barometric fuse and when we descended to the operating height it exploded. The flare chute it was in was blown apart and the fuselage severely damaged. In addition to that it was an aircraft normally flown by another pilot because our aircraft was in for inspection. The pilot who normally flew the damaged aircraft was most annoyed when he returned from leave to find his aircraft so damaged it was un-airworthy.
On July 12/13th we went to Turin and took Sergeant E.H. Tansley, a new pilot to the squadron, who acted as second pilot. It was a long trip of 10hours 45mins. We crossed France and over the Alps. Due to the limited hours of darkness we were routed home on a detour, flying west from Italy, crossing France near Bordeaux and out over the Bay of Biscay before heading for England. We were met by a Mosquito escort and crossed the coast at Lands End and landed at Scampton at 0849hrs. Our fuel consumption was 1.1 miles per gallon. On this raid Squadron Leader Nettleton VC failed to return.
In order to disrupt the Italian electri railways, precision attacks were mounted on power and transformer stations at San Polo D鈥橢nza, near Bologna and Aquata Scrivia near Genoa by 617 Squadron. The attack was on the 16th July 1943 and three crews from 57 Squadron, including ours, bombed a transformer station at Milan and Rigina. We bombed the secondary transformer from 1500 feet, making three bombing runs. There was no opposition. After bombing we set course for North Africa as we had been briefed. We crossed the Mediterranean to Algeria. We had left Italy in daylight. We were short of petrol and landed at Maison Blanche. We refuelled and then went on to Blida. 617 had already landed. You could see the Atlas Mountains from Blida airfield. Before leaving the UK we had been issued with khaki drill tropical shorts and shirts which naturally we had taken with us. After Jack, Dick and Nick had been de-briefed we were given food in a marque and then taken down into the town of Blida and shown into a building with a red tiled floor where we would sleep on a paillasse. I cannot recall taking razor, toothbrush etc. with us but I think we must have. We were given soap. There were washing and bathing facilities at the airfield and some crude showers, and so we were lucky. We were stuck at Blida for about a week. The weather over the Alps delayed our return to Scampton. During that time we were briefed two or three times. At one briefing Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder was present and gave us a few words of praise.
At Blida I had a conversation with John Pulford who, after the Dams raid, had been awarded the DFM and promoted to Flt/Sgt. He was now flying with Squadron Leader George Holden DSO. DFC who now commanded 617 and had taken over Guy Gibson鈥檚 crew. From Pulford鈥檚 conversation I gathered that he was not very happy with Squadron Leader Holden.
Another thing that happened at Blida was that our two gunners Wally and Ronnie were approached by two soldiers that had been in hospital to see if they could get a flight back to the UK. In other words they were going to desert. Wally and Ronnie told them that they would have to have oxygen masks, and the next day the soldiers turned up with flying helmets and masks and asked Wally and Ronnie to look after them. Our two gunners then told the soldiers that they would be very cold. We finally left Blida for Scampton on 24th July, bombing docks at Leghorn on the way. On the day of our departure the two soldiers turned up and collected their helmets and oxygen masks from Wally and Ronnie and said that they were fixed up with a pilot for a flight to the UK. It would have been a 617 pilot 鈥� who it was we never knew. In the evening before take off the two soldiers appeared dressed in dark blue French uniforms. I have wondered many times what the outcome was.
Jack Russell our American pilot had made a bet with Flt/Lt McCarthy from USA, a pilot with 617, that he would get back to Scampton first, but McCarthy landed before us. Wally, our mid upper gunner, took small parcels for airmen which he then posted back in the UK. I took back a quantity of citron which I took home on my next leave.
The day after arriving back in Scampton, when still in bed, we were woken up by an airman from the Orderly Room. When we asked him why he said 鈥淵ou鈥檙e posted鈥�. We were quite taken aback, it was so soon. We had done 28 operations which were two less than the pilot, and thought that we might have to do two more to make up 30 which was a full tour. When we asked the airman our posting he said it was 97 Squadron. We couldn鈥檛 make it out. We thought we would be going to a training unit as instructors which was fairly usual. Jack, our pilot, then turned up and said that we were going to Pathfinders which he had put in for without telling us. I didn鈥檛 like it. I thought he should have let us know of his intentions as it concerned the whole crew; but we could have refused and gone on a rest. Jack then said that we would stay together as a crew, and that we only had to do 45 operations which included our 28 and then we shall be finished for good. After thinking it over I and the others thought that it was a fair proposition and so we fell in with Jack鈥檚 idea. We left Scampton in a hurry but not without saying goodbye to our faithful ground crew. They had done well for us and we had no trouble to do with them. I was unable to say goodbye to my WAAF girlfriend as each time I might have seen her she was away. We left Scampton on the 28th July 1943 in a Lancaster flown by Flt/Sgt Parker for 97 Squadron at Bourn, Cambridgeshire on the A45 and arrived about 1600hrs. Shortly after leaving Scampton it was closed in August to lay runways and 57 Squadron moved to East Kirkby, a new station.

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