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Our billet at Eschemines was a farm hayloft above a cow byre: the place was alive with rats and, as it was now June, the smell from the cows underneath was overpowering. Adding to our discomfort was the night-long noise from the animals chained below as, at times, we had to go out on missions in the early hours.

One morning we took off on a low level attack on German front line troops. We met very heavy anti-aircraft fire and, after dropping our bombs, we could actually see the enemy below, running over the fields. This was my first and only sighting of German soldiers as previously we had bombed their convoys and lorries and tanks without actually seeing the occupants.

I still remember 鈥楯ack鈥�, a wireless operator who had just joined the squadron from the UK about a month before. As we sat in the lovely sunshine on the roadside, watching the streaming crowds of French refugees passing, we were hoping that we would not be called up for 鈥榙aylight鈥� operations. However, that was not to be because the Service Policeman arrived at our side with his Duty List. Yes! Jack was wanted for operations. After he collected his flying kit from our hayloft quarters he came back to me, 鈥淚 forgot to say Cheerio鈥� he said, clearly anxious. I tried to reassure him that he would be all right but he just said 鈥渓ook at that cloudless blue sky, I鈥檝e no chance鈥�, and with that the brave lad went off for the last time. His Fairey Battle was shot down shortly after take off and all three crew were killed.
Our squadron losses were mounting alarmingly every day and despite reinforcements our chances of survival were becoming less and less as the German attack was closing in at Dunkirk. At his point, the average survival prospect for an Airman was nine raids.

By the middle of June the situation was really desperate and on the 15th, orders were given for what was left of 12 Squadron to return to England. Even as we were setting course for Southsea I looked back and saw German bombers attacking our aerodrome. When we landed on English soil we were surrounded by onlookers and a soldier asked me if I knew his brother-in-law who was an armourer with our squadron. I was able to tell him that he had been working on my plane before I left and that he was still alive. Unfortunately, I learned some days later that LAC Godfrey, the armourer, was included in the list of the 12 Squadron ground crew killed in the air raid.

After a spell of leave for the few surviving air crews our Fairey battles were posted to Binbrook in Lincolnshire where we spent the winter.

In December 1940 we were re-equipped with Wellington Bombers; it was comforting to have planes with two engines and to get rid of the ancient Fairey battles. The whole squadron was strengthened by the arrival of new personnel and we were posted to Tollerton near Nottingham for bombing and gunnery practice.

I will always remember three narrow escapes that I had during 1941:

The first happened at Nottingham during training. One day, just prior to take off, I was approached by Sgt 鈥淭ommy鈥� Tomlinson D.F.M. and he asked me if I would change crews for that particular exercise. My own crew were all well known to me but I reluctantly agrees. So off I flew with another crew on an air firing exercise. When our aircraft returned over the airfield we could see a crashed Wellington and the emergency services in action below. On landing I discovered that all my crew had been killed including 鈥淭ommy鈥� and two extra aircrew members seriously injured. When I appeared in the crew room my friends were amazed as I was thought to have been in the wrecked aircraft and presumed dead.

My second narrow escape, or 鈥渟haky do鈥� as we called them in the Airforce, was in April 1941 when the squadron was starting operations over Germany with our new Wellingtons. Wing Commander V Q Blacken arrived from India and decided to go on his first operation. He sent for me and also Sgt. McDougall, a man who hailed from Perth. We were both wireless operators/gunners and were not attached to any particular crew. I had of course lost my crew in the crash at Nottingham. He told us that he was going on operations that night and needed an experienced wireless operator to join his crew. After some discussion he suggested that we toss a coin to see who was going and I 鈥榣ost鈥� the toss. Incredibly, the W/Cdr was shot down on his first operation, and all the crew were killed.

My third 鈥渟haky do鈥� happened at the end of my first tour of operations over Europe. By the end of August our crew were looking forward to a rest period, as three of our crew members, the pilot F/Lt. McVeigh, the navigator F/Sgt. Nancarrow and I had been flying since the early days of the war. On the night of the 16th August 1941 we were over Cologne when the starboard engine was damaged by anti-aircraft fire and from then on our troubles started aboard the crippled plane. Gradually we were losing height and eventually we were over the north sea on one engine. (Praise be that we were not flying in a Fairey Battle which only started out with one engine!) I sent out an SOS and by the time we made landfall over Norwich we were flying just above the city and 鈥淢ac鈥� the pilot was wrestling with the controls. The search lights were helping us by 鈥減ointing鈥� to the nearest aerodrome and by this time we were in the countryside crashing through telephone lines, electric lines etc. as the remaining engine was losing power. At last 鈥淢ac鈥� saw lights and thought it was an aerodrome but it was signal lights on the railway signals: then we hit a railway bridge at Briston in Norfolk. Three of the crew were killed and three of us landed in hospital. What we did not know at the time was that we might have been able to make a successful landing if our 鈥榯wo thousand鈥� bomb had not been 鈥渉ung up鈥� due to an electrical fault and we had carried it all the way back to England. Fortunately for us it didn鈥檛 explode when we eventually crashed.

In 1987, forty-six years later, my pilot W/Cdr 鈥淢ac鈥� McVeigh and I revisited the scene of our crash. We also paid an emotional visit to Briston Parish Church to see the memorial plaque dedicated to our three dead comrades P/O Vincent, second pilot, F/Sgt. Nancarrow, navigator and Sgt. Frost, front gunner. Despite our enquiries we have not been able to trace our fellow survivor, rear gunner Sgt. Danny Murray.

In 1942 I was posted to an operational training unit as a flying instructor, flying in Ansons and Wellingtons. As well as training crews we also liaised with the Home Guard on exercises. I remember dropping sandbags filled with straw to the troops below and this was to give them training at rounding up German Paratroops. On other occasions we sprayed the Home guard with aniseed on chemical warfare exercises.

My flying log book tells me that the first 鈥榦ne thousand bomber鈥� raid was on 10th September 1942. The reason I took part was because the RAF wanted a one hundred percent raid so they called upon the training unit instructors to make up the force. That night I flew over Germany with S/Ldr Donaldson as pilot, and the crew made up of staff instructors. Dusseldorf was well and truly bombed that night.

In June 1943 I returned to 12 Squadron at Wickenby, Lincolnshire for my second tour of operations. This time I was crewed up with an Australian crew, our captain was F/O Mizon.

During the second tour we had one or two narrow escapes. On the night of 25th June our Lancaster was 鈥渃oned鈥� by searchlights and hit by anti-aircraft fire, our port outer engine was on fire and much damage was done to the aircraft鈥檚 electrical system. Fortunately the fire was extinguished and when we eventually crawled back to base we discovered we had forty-seven holes in the aircraft.

On another occasion we could feel a terrible draught coming from a hole at the front of the aircraft. When the bomb aimer was searching about with his torch he discovered an incendiary bomb which he promptly threw overboard. The bomb had come from one of our own bombers flying above us over the target. We worked out later that it had hit the outer propeller and had been hurled through the side of our Lancaster.

At the aerodrome one night, our crew was waiting for transport to take us out to our Lancaster for a night operation over Germany, when an English officer came over and introduced himself to me. He said he understood that I was going on leave to Scotland on our return from operations and he too was going on leave and was bringing his wife up from London to join him for a holiday in Edinburgh. We agreed that together we would join his wife on the London-Edinburgh express the next morning at Doncaster. That night his crew were missing over Germany and I never discovered what had happened to them. I joined the train as planned and although I didn鈥檛 know his wife, I hoped to be able to find her. I was unsuccessful, both at Doncaster and at Edinburgh when the passengers disembarked. I never found out the end of this rather sad story.

I finished my second tour of operations on 3rd October 1943 and with a great sense of relief, returned from my last raid on Kassel. From my flying log book I find that I had attacked Cologne no less than six times and my longest flights were to Turin and Milan in Italy where both trips lasted over ten hours. Berlin I visited four times and altogether I completed fifty operations over Europe, many more than the average 鈥榣ife expectancy鈥� of nine!

In October 1943 I was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, DFC.

I left 12 Squadron after my second tour, and after a spell as signals officer I was sent to the RAF Officer鈥檚 Hospital at Clevelys near Blackpool. My left leg, injured in the crash in 1941, required surgery.

When I was in hospital I met aircrew who told me of various dangerous exploits. One I remember in particular was 鈥淒arky鈥� Morgan, a flight engineer in a Lancaster flying at 25000ft over Stuttgart on a cold February night. The plane was hit by 鈥渇lak鈥� which blew open the main door. The flight engineer was detailed to go to try and repair the damage. Unfortunately his oxygen bottle gave out and he collapsed at the open door with both hands out in the freezing air, and as a result his fingers were frost-bitten.
When I met him in hospital he had lost all his fingers and only his two thumbs remained. Some years after the war I saw him on television working as an engineer, having learned to overcome his handicap.

During the summer of 1945 the Daily Herald sponsored a RAF exhibition in Dorland Hall London. Along with three other experienced officers, I was delegated to take part. Our duties were to lecture to the visitors. At the opening ceremony we were introduced to the Air minister, Sir Archibald Sinclair and other members of the platform party. The exhibition proved to be a great boost for RAF publicity and was a first class posting for us as we were offered lots of hospitality by members of the public.

The story from the exhibition that really hit the headlines was that of two carrier pigeons. The two carrier pigeons, on show at the exhibition, had brought agent鈥檚 messages from behind enemy lines. The birds both returned and although wounded by gunshot pellets they had brought important messages. The pigeons had both been awarded the Dickens medal by the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. The Dickens medal is known as the animal VC and is only awarded by the society to animals that perform great acts of bravery. A few years ago this story was retold when a Dickens medal came up for sale at an auction in London. It was bought for two thousand pounds.

In 1946 I left the RAF and, after thirty two years in the teaching profession I retired as headmaster of Eaglesfield School in Dumfriesshire in 1982. ........but that is another story.

No. 52716 - F/LT GEORGE W.M. PURSLOW D.F.C.

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