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This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Peter Ricketts [son] on behalf of Albert Ricketts [the author] and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

The story describes Operation Oyster, which was a daylight-bombing raid on Phillips Radio Works, Holland, on December 6th 1942. This raid was at the time the largest daylight-bombing raid of the war. This is an account by Fl. Lt Albert Ricketts and is an extract from his WW11 Memoirs. Albert had trained as a pilot and was eventually posted to 21 squadron based at Methwold, Norfolk. Operation Oyster was his first bombing raid (undertaken on his mother’s birthday); he held the rank of Sergeant and piloted a Lockheed Ventura aircraft with a crew of 4. At the end of the raid his aircraft ditched into the sea about 7 miles off Felixstowe and all were safely recovered.

About 5 minutes after leaving the coast, Bob my upper gunner reported that there was a squadron of fighters due north of us and it wasn't until they had completely circled our A/c did we realise they were friendly, thank goodness. About this time we realised that our W/T radio was useless due more than likely to our radio aerials being swept away in our collision with the tree. Half way across the water we encountered a rather large Royal Navy warship.

We didn't have any means of contact with them except by firing off the colours of the day and following the laid down procedure of always passing astern of the ship. We had been told that the Navy always fired first and asked questions afterwards. I don't blame them but being on one engine I wasn't happy about having to take evasive action. Fortunately it wasn't necessary which was lucky when we saw the guns that could have used against us.

Not long after leaving the warship I noticed a Spitfire flying on my starboard side and in formation with my A/c. It was a comforting thought and I can only presume that the squadron of fighters that circled us had radioed their base ( we found out later that this was RAF Coltishall in Norfolk ) and asked for this A/c to stay with us until we had reached land or had ditched in the sea. About this time I realised that there was a distinct possibility that we may not reach Felixstowe Airfield and therefore confirmed to my crew our ditching arrangements should we need to do so.

Ditching positions were agreed and at the same time I decided that because I didn’t have any idea of my airspeed I would not jettison the panel directly above the Pilot and Navigator as I didn’t know what effect this would have on the handling characteristics of the aircraft and on the stalling speed. Without that exact knowledge I was not prepared to risk my crew’s lives. This meant that if we were forced to ditch, all the crew would have to escape by the same route, namely the ‘ Astrodome ‘ and therefore we would all have to get a move on if we were to survive. Everybody agreed that we would have to move quickly should we be forced to ditch.

We were approaching the English Coast and were about 7 miles away when the engine which had enabled me to get that far ' died ' through lack of fuel. Although I didn't think about it at the time I was about to be tested, in practical terms, as to how much I had learned about how to react in an emergency when ditching an aircraft in the water. The standard procedure for ' ditching ' was to turn into wind so as to reduce the touchdown speed.

Fortunately there was very little or no wind at all making it unnecessary to alter course and had enabled the sea to be like a mill pond. One of the problems of ditching an A/c is the problem caused if the waves are of any size. Fortunately with the sea being like a ' mill pond ' this enabled me to make a very good landing. Because I hadn't been able, at take off, to strap myself in, immediately prior to touch down I put my feet into the instrument panel so as to prevent myself smashing into it due to the sudden stopping of the A/c. This meant that I finished up with my arm up against my face and right up against the windscreen. The only injury I got was a small scratch on the bridge of my nose.

With the remainder of my crew at ' ditching stations ' we were all uninjured. Now we had to vacate the A/c as quickly as possible not an easy task since we all had to get out through the astrodome and particularly since the a/c floated for only about 45 secs. This may not seem very long but I can assure you that it is when you are in a hurry.

As soon as we were out of the A/c we inflated our ' Mae West's ' which followed the advice we were given. This was to wait until we were out of the A/c before inflating them so as to avoid the possibility of ' scagging ' the inflated life jacket and thereby losing its buoyancy. Obviously the first thing to be done after vacating the A/c was to inflate the dinghy. With typical American foresight they had arranged that the door on a Ventura would be deep enough to store an uninflated dinghy and have the outside panel to the door held in place by a strip of fabric. Under the nose of the A/c was a ' sea switch ' which when it came into contact with sea water an electrical charge would be set up which would set off the Co2 bottle attached to the dinghy causing it to inflate and so when we had all got out of the A/c the dinghy was waiting for us. All we had to do was to check to see if it was inflated enough, which it was. Now we had to cut the tie that was holding it to the A/c.

Because the A/c was sinking so fast I, a non swimmer, stepped off the wing into the water believing implicitly that the ' Mae West ' would keep me afloat and it did. Because it was December the water temperature was quite cold but not one of us felt it presumably because our adrenalin was running quite high. The exact time we ditched was 1350 hrs being the time my watch stopped when it was submerged in the water. We were now, all four us, in the dinghy and paddling away as quickly as possible in case the suddenly submerging A/c upset our dinghy.

What we didn't realise was that whilst we were descending to the water and getting into our dinghy, the accompanying Spitfire had gone off to a nearby trawler and indicated the direction to steer to reach the ditched A/c. Because of the help given to us by the pilot of the Spitfire, we were in our dinghy for only about 15 mins. About 45 mins later an Air Sea Rescue launch came alongside the trawler, took us off and back to Felixstowe harbour. By the time we reached the harbour it was starting to get dark. We told the CO of the Air Sea Rescue Unit, of the party that had been arranged at Feltwell and he very kindly arranged for transport to take us to the party. Driving back through the dark in the black out at a speed necessary to ensure that we did not miss the party was very frightening. Still we were determined not to miss the party.

When we arrived the party was in full swing and it surprised most of our squadron that we were there when the last they saw of us was being on one engine and being left behind. At the end of the party we were sat on a grass verge waiting for the wagon to arrive to take us back to base. When it arrived I got up to run to the lorry and promptly fell over. It was only then that I realised how much the day had taken out of me and how tired I was.

As soon as possible I sent a telegram to my wife saying I was safe and would be writing to her. We had discussed the possibility of me sending her a telegram and so as to differentiate with that horrible telegram that would be sent if I was ' missing ', it was agreed I would give her full Christian names on the telegram so that she would know it was from me. This of course is what I did and it worked. It was necessary for me to tell her that I was all right as Venturas for the first time, were mentioned on the radio, as having been involved in a bombing operation and that a total of 13 A/c were missing.

It was standard practice for all aircrew who had survived a ditching to be given 4 days survival leave but in our case, as it was our very first operation, the hierarchy thought we could easily be persuaded by our families to ask to be taken off bombing. Needless to say we won the day, visited our families and continued our tour of bombing operations. As mine was the first Ventura to ‘ ditch ‘ and the crew survive, my navigator and I had to report to the Ministry of Aircraft Production to give our account as to how the aircraft behaved in the ditching procedure and thereby confirm that the procedure laid down was correct.

Whilst in London Ron and I had to pay a visit to the makers of the dinghy to give our account of how the dinghy behaved during the ditching and at the same time we had to recount our experiences of the raid and we were interviewed by the late famed Winford Vaughan Thomas of the ´óÏó´«Ã½ who, later, took part in heavy bomber raid on Berlin and recorded his experiences whilst over the target. The recording with Mr Thomas was broadcast about 2 months later in a weekly programme about personal experiences of the war. At that interview Ron and I were initiated into the ‘ Goldfish Club ‘ which was a club formed for those persons who had escaped death by the use of their dinghy. Although we were the first members to be initiated into the Club we were not the first members to qualify to join the Club.

During my survival leave the thoughts of what had happened did not come back to haunt me. Perhaps because the raid itself was featured in the press and in the news items in the cinemas my adrenalin was still running quite high. Any thoughts of not wanting to continue as a daylight bomber pilot never entered my head.

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