大象传媒

My World War II Experiences
by Frederick John Cole

Part 3: 1943-4 鈥擳raining Complete, Wedding and 57 Squadron

Returning from training in Canada and arriving at Liverpool we were transferred to another holding camp point based at Harrogate. It was not long before some of us were sent to Jurby in the Isle of Man. This was a base camp for an advanced training course that did not involve any flying and to some extent I found rather boring. After that I proceeded up north, but this time via Liverpool and sent straight up to Thurso at the tip of Scotland, en route to Skivray in the Orkneys. It was a long trip. We were put on a ferry that had a concrete bottom because it was such a rough sea to cross the water to Skivray. Believe it or not there was a theatrical group called ENSA to entertain the troops on board as well. Eventually we got there and it was a really outlandish outpost but needless to say the orchestra accommodation was excellent! We were also very well catered for.

The purpose of the training at Skivray was for us to become familiar with, and get used to, bombing moving targets. There was this young New Zealander pilot who loved flying in and out of the cables holding the balloons over Scapa. It was either that or we were low flying and by low flying I mean you could have put your hand out and almost touched the grass! It was an exhilarating experience but 鈥榤ad as a hatter鈥�. One day we were up flying and he put the Anson into a dive and a whole sheet of metal came off the side of the aircraft!

While there, as already mentioned, we were bombing moving targets and often flew over the fleet. I recall seeing the American aircraft carrier 鈥榃asp鈥� and think that at the time it was leading out a convoy destined for Narvik. Also visible was the 鈥極ak Royal鈥� Battleship lying in the water alongside the Dock, the entire ship was clearly in view just as the German Submarine had left it. Interestingly, the Navy often entertained us! We were picked up and taken out to one of their ships at anchor and it became a well-known fact that none of us ever came back with 2 legs on the ground! Maybe it was fortunate that these excursions were called off, I think due to the pending expedition I referred to, going over to Norway.

I had a dreadful cold at the time and remember phoning my Father for advice and he told me to have a rum and blackcurrant with hot water - it worked! Apart from that I forget how many weeks we were there, but before long we were back on the move and this time were sent down to Wigtown on the Scottish coast.

As an interesting aside story, Dot was by that time in the WRENS and based down at Falmouth in Cornwall.

She applied for what was then called a compassionate posting so she could be close to where I was at that time. Unfortunately in practise, I was sent up to the Orkney Isles while she, at short notice, was sent to the Scilly Isles - that was about the furthest we could be away from each other! It took about 2 days (I think) to work out how we could meet together when we both had leave from our various posts. We did manage it though and when we met again, (my memory is a bit rusty), I am sure it was in Derby. Now if Dorothy was here with me now whilst I am writing this you would, of course, have the full details!

Coming back to where I was we were next sent to Wigtown and from there to Upper Heyford. This was the place where we were all assembled, discussions ensued and we talked to each other to decide on choices to form a crew. I opted for Phil Ainley as pilot, joined by Les Bradbeer, a Canadian navigator and a 鈥榟appy-go-lucky鈥� wireless operator by the name of Fishburn. This was the formation for our crew, a basic crew who would then fly as a team in a Lancaster Bomber.

I think at this point I had better get some dates into focus, because we went to Upper Heyford at the beginning of November 1943 and continued through until leaving at the end of March 1944. My story now becomes two-fold in the sense that Dot and I had managed to see each other many times after my return from Canada and I know she came up to Derby once to see me and I was in Hereford once with her. Well the bond of friendship continued to grow from strength to strength and from this point on whatever I did, wherever I went, whatever happened was in the name of two and no longer just me.

Back to the flying, we were crewed-up and flew in the Wellington bombers, still training, exercising and getting to know each other. We were operating from a satellite called Barford, which was north of Heyford. Every so often we had a bus to transport us into Banbury for an evening out on the town. It was during one such time that Dot had somehow or other got herself from Falmouth to Banbury by train by fooling the system! We only spent the day together, but a wonderful occasion and it was at this point we decided to get engaged.

When the RAF flying training was completed at Upper Heyford we were transferred to a heavy bomber conversion unit to fly, of all things, Sterling bombers! These aircraft were all based in the East coast area. In the meantime Dot was in the WRENS and at that time waiting for a posting to train as a 鈥榁isual Signaller鈥� up at Lowton, St. Mary鈥檚, not far from where some of her relatives lived in Leigh, Lancashire. Then came the memorable meeting when she said that she had heard that she could be posted to India if successful in her exams and, needless to say, she was successful. Full of apprehension I chanced to say, 鈥淭hey can鈥檛 make you go, not if you are a married woman they can鈥檛鈥�. Well that was all I said! About four days later I get a letter back from Dot to say that not only 鈥榳as it on鈥� but that the date was already fixed, the calling of the bans sorted - the whole lot! It was fine by me and I left Dot to do all the 鈥榝ussing鈥� and sort everything out.

The date of our wedding was fixed for April 10th 1944. I managed to arrange a week鈥檚 leave for myself and days leave for my mates Phil and Brad so they could come along and attend the Wedding in Hereford. Phil acted as my Best Man. All went extremely well and within days of having become man and wife once more Dot, through some mystic way, managed to arrange a couple of further days leave to come up and stay not far from the airfield where I was based.

During this time we were going up and down in a Sterling Bomber, getting used to the handling of a 鈥榖ig kite鈥� and, believe me, the Sterling was a big kite! It felt like you were about fifty feet off the ground when you were in the cockpit but gradually you became attuned to it.

The aircraft itself was like a flying tank with armour plating inside and surprisingly comfortable but the manoeuvrability was not of the same standard that we had become accustomed to when flying the 鈥楲ancaster bomber鈥�.

At Wigsley we collected our air gunners, the Mid-Upper and Tail Gunner. The Mid-Upper Gunner called Arnold McTrowe, a Canadian lad and the Tail Gunner was a lad called Doug Salisbury who came from up North somewhere. We were moved to Swinderby, a conversion unit to Lancaster bombers and spent some time there completing flying exercises, dummy runs, etc. until we were finally posted to the 57th Squadron. This was on the 15th May 1944.

Initially we did a variety of further training with the squadron and made our first bombing run on the 24th May to Antwerp. It was not too bad an experience. In those areas the density of the gunnery from the ground was always intense but for us it was our first insight as to what the war was all about.

Three days later we were sent on our second mission to St. Valerie in Northern France, a time when flying bombs were becoming major threat. On the 1st June 1944 we were involved in a moonlight mission flying down to the South of Paris to bomb a bridge at Saumur. We were not flying at a particularly high level as we approached the target area. The night sky was beautiful and the target quite clear. As we started on the bombing run there were suddenly 鈥榯racers鈥� going all around from attacking enemy aircraft. I was down in the Bomb bay that provided forward vision only (i.e. not sideways or below). We kept going despite several continued fighter attacks until we were in fact over the target. Like I said it was clear as a 鈥榖ell鈥� and you could see exactly what was going on. We beat a hasty exit as quickly as we could, 鈥榗orkscrewing鈥� nearly all the way home. 鈥楥orkscrewing鈥� is a flying tactic where you flew like a corkscrew through the sky to make it more difficult for any fighter aircraft that might be following to beam on to you and fire.

All was fine until we got back to the airfield and got out. What a shock awaited us! Across the fuselage and under the middle of the aircraft were some twenty-nine holes and after inspection the aircraft itself was written off. We were damned lucky but we didn鈥檛 know it at the time, by that I mean it wasn鈥檛 until we landed that we realised, so were damned lucky. Anyway, that was quite an experience and an eye opener for us all. Following that night and throughout July and into August we were flying roughly every second or third night or a bit longer all depending on the weather conditions.

Most of the early flights were based around northern France attacking the flying bomb sites and rocket areas, things of that kind. There were also long sorties in support of the D-Day Landings and the subsequent problems such as Falaise Gap after the landing had taken place. However, I am going to concentrate on talking about the trips we did that were somewhat different and what one might call of a 鈥榥on-routine鈥� character.

During this period, Dot had been transferred to the harbour office at Grimsby as a Visual Signaller. Her duties involved monitoring vessels coming in and out of ports and very often they were carrying airmen who had been shot down on missions etc. It was not a very pleasant job for her to do, but somehow or other and I can鈥檛 remember doing this, we managed to locate a place where we could stay in the village of Stickney in Norfolk that was just the other side of the airfield.

The place was called Woodbine Cottage, a delightful little dwelling with a big windmill at the bottom of the garden and the owner was called Peggy Donna. She had a young daughter who was then four or five years old. Dot, with her usual determination had found a way that she could, with the help of one or more of her friends, arrange to have pillows placed under the covers of her bed during her absence so that she could sneak off all night every so often, sometimes even two nights! She would go to the train station, change into 鈥榗ivvies鈥� so as not to be identified and then buy a ticket to Stickney on the train that in those days was a restricted area for travel, quite a risky thing to do at the time! There was no Station Master or ticket collector to question her arrival, so she used to get off at Stickney to meet me - an arrangement that went on for a long time. So that is how we managed to get together every so often. The times we were not together she always knew when I was on a 鈥榤ission鈥� because I would write to her and sign the letter 鈥淚鈥檒l see you again鈥�. That was our way of saying I am doing something I can鈥檛 talk about tonight.

One of the most significant missions I flew on was during the middle of August when we were called upon as a squadron to do some special low-level gardening, (that is dropping mines.) This was in a channel between Danzig 鈥榓s was鈥� and Stettin. Now at the same time a large raid was taking place at Stettin that could be seen in the distance from my position with everything going off. We were on our own and came in the back way so to speak. The marker had been 鈥榩lonked鈥� right on the little island that we used as a start for our run-in. We hadn鈥檛 gone very far when a voice came over the intercom saying, 鈥漈his is Wing Commander Porter, we鈥檝e been hit, we鈥檙e going in鈥� or some words to that effect. That was very unnerving. Anyway, I placed my parachute under my belly as we were descending; we were going down to two hundred and fifty feet. The target was a waterway that, at that level, was illuminated with lights that you could see on the approach but couldn鈥檛 see if you were directly overhead. There were three 鈥榚ggs鈥� to be dropped and I recall that we had to count to five between each 鈥榚gg鈥� drop. These bombs were special, some were timed to explode as the first vessel went over them, some after the second or third and so on.

Battle stations had started and we found the channel; all hell was let loose with 鈥榯racers鈥� left, right and centre that fortunately seemed to be going too high above us to make a target as we were underneath them. Somehow we managed to get through it and every member of the crew was shouting to each other, 鈥淐ome on Mike, you can do it!鈥� We shot up into the night sky like a rocket, up and away. That was quite a thrilling experience for us and thankfully we had a safe journey back home. This was the occasion when Phil the pilot was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.

Foot Note I:
Crew members: -
Phil Ainley (Pilot)
Doug Salisbury (Rear Gunner)
Arnold McTrowe (Mid-Upper Gunner)
Alf Fishburn (Wireless Operator)
Fred Cole (Bomb Aimer)
Les Bradbeer (Navigator)
Harry Evans (Flight Engineer)
Eric Blanchard (Flight Engineer) 鈥�7 trips
Ray Francis: (Flight Engineer) 鈥� 13 trips

Foot Note II:

Comments from Bruce McTrowe, son of Arnold McTrowe, M/UG

Stettin/Swinemunde Raid. They were laying mines from 250 feet in a shipping channel 157 yards wide. Normally 鈥済ardening鈥� was done from 12 to 14 thousand feet, Six Lancs from 57 Sqdn went, 2 turned back, 1 was shot down in front of our Dad鈥檚 Lanc. 3 completed the task and all three pilots were awarded the DFC. DX-M came home with 26-2inch holes in it. No one was hurt.

In February this year my Dad met one of the survivors of the Lanc shot down. His name was Malcolm Crapper and he became a prisoner of war. Malcolm sent him information comparing the raid second only to the Dambusters Raid in terms of demands made on skill and courage.

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