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My name is Eric Tansley and I was born in St. Albans on 6th March 1921. At the end of schooling I went to a business college and studied bookkeeping and other business studies for a year and a half. In 1937 I got a job as an audit clerk with a small firm of Accountants. After a time I was persuaded to take up work with the True Form Boot Company in footwear factory management.

When War commenced in 1939 I particularly remember the effort that was required to make the factory satisfactorily "blacked out." Many curtains for windows and ceiling drapes for skylights were made. Also we had to set up lookouts on the roof for when air raid alerts were sounded, and organise night watch teams for the hours of darkness. I hoped that the War would be of short duration and be over by the time I would be due for call-up in 1941. By December 1940 there was no sign of an end to the War so I decided to volunteer to avoid conscription in the Army. The Navy was out as I hated the sea as a result of a near drowning when I was young. So I volunteered for RAF Aircrew.

By early January 1942 I was called to undergo Medicals I think in Edgware. Next came a call to go to RAF Uxbridge. There with dozens of other volunteers came an examination in the form of a long question paper. This was a new type of exam for me as each question was supplied with about four possible answers. It was just a question of deciding which was the true answer and I soon seemed to work out what the examiner had been intending with the questions. At the end came a statement that I was required to write 200 words on the topic "The significance of Gibraltar in the conduct of the war in the Mediterranean." I had some difficulty deciding exactly where Gibraltar was but finally managed about 207 words.

We waited around to hear the result of our exam efforts. Then I realised that "Mr. Tansley" was being called out on the Tannoy. I had to go to a headquarters office. I was shown into an office and soon two apparently high ranking officers came in. I was as yet unaware of RAF ranks. One of them was waving a sheet of paper and said to me that he was going to have it framed and hung on his office wall. I began to think I was in a madhouse. He said "Of all the thousands of these exams that have been taken this is the first one with every question answered correctly." I had even stronger doubts about someone's sanity.

They then questioned me closely about my reasons for volunteering for pilot training. I quickly said I had always been interested in flying making models etc. This was somewhat of an untruth, but felt I had to say something as it seemed they were trying to prevent me flying.

After more questioning as to my true intentions, they suddenly said "We are prepared to offer you an immediate Commission in the Intelligence Branch. But you will need to start straight away." I immediately turned this down as I was already aware that flying recruits were having several months of deferred service — and I was not hankering after military service. This always mystified me over the years until a year or two ago when I learned that at that time they were recruiting people to work on Enigma.

About July time I had to report to Aircrew recruiting Wing at Babbacombe. After some weeks of square bashing there I was posted with two or three others to Regent's Park for Eye Training. Apparently at some stage my eye depth perception was not up to standard. At Regent's Park there were no facilities for Eye Training and we were just dogsbodies for doing all the cleaning of blocks of flats for the new Air Crew Receiving Centre that was being set up. We saw many intakes of new recruits come and go and finally we revolted when we found they had misplaced out pay records) and Kings Regulations were read to us. Eventually equipment was found from some hospital and we started our Eye training. After some time I was posted back to Babbacombe which was now No. 1 ITW. At this Initial Training Wing we had instruction in various subjects including navigation. A highlight of this was to go out in RAF launches in Torbay and do Navigation at boat speed.

The next move was a blacked out train journey of some hours to a station, which of course had no name signs in wartime. A somewhat long journey in an RAF lorry finished up in the muddiest place I was ever to know in the RAF — it was Clyffe Pypard which seemd to be somewhere in the downs above Marlborough. We flew for just a few hours in Tiger Moths before going to Heaton Park, Manchester. Here I was issued with my third set of flying clothes. After a few days we boarded a train in darkness, with no clue as to where we were bound. It chugged on through the night and in the morning light we were near to water. Off the train and on to a ferry boat and we were taken out to SS Banfora sitting in the middle of the Clyde at Gourock. This was a 6,000 ton Spanish coaster, which had been captured and converted to troop carrying. There were 1,500 RAF people on board! Holds had had decking put in and there were rows of closely spaced hammocks, with mess tables underneath.

We were to be accompanied by a P & O liner SS Rangatiki which towered over our steamer but in fact could only manage 8 knots as its engines were broken down. It carried about a 150 German POW's. We still did not know our destination but after passing land which we decided was Northern Ireland it seemed we were heading for an Atlantic crossing. About the fifth or sixth night we looked out in the morning to find the Rangatiki missing. We then circled in Mid Atlantic for 24 hours but did not get attacked by U-boats, but we never saw the Rangatiki again.

After 19 days we finally reached Halifax, Nova Scotia. We boarded trains which took us to Moncton, New Brunswick. At Moncton a large personnel camp, we finally learned our destinations. Back in England I had been told at one place "Your code word is Fisher — remember it." Found that there were several code words distributed amongst my companions. Eventually as "Fisher" I was gathered together with a group of other Fishers and we finally learned that we were destined for training with the American Army Air Force. Then came a train journey across Canada to cross the great lakes to Detroit. There we boarded a quite luxurious train which set off south. Two days later we arrived at Albany, Georgia. We were now on a similar latitude to Cairo and the climate was much warmer. We had a about three weeks of acclimatisation and were then posted to various training schools.

I was to go to Darr Aero Tech which was just the other side of Albany — it had been a civilian flying school and still had the civilian instructors. My instructor was a Mr. Hawkins and with him I learned to fly Stearman PT17 training planes — I soloed in 7 hours. The course lasted 9 weeks and then I was posted to Macon, Georgia, where I was to learn to fly Vultee Valiants, basic trainers. I soloed on these in about four or five hours. Again it was a nine weeks course. I had always wanted to be a fighter pilot right from joining up, but at the end of Basic I was posted to a training unit at Valdosta which had twin engine planes.

These I could take off and fly in the air, but on the ground could not control them — so off the course and posted to Trenton, Ontario. I travelled with another fellow and our train chugged northwards all the way from the Florida border. We halted at Cincinnati but did not think much of it. We stopped at Detroit and at that time it was so pro-German that our RAF caps were drawing abuse — so we got back to kill time on the train. Shortly after that crossing into Canada was like a breath of fresh air. After a year of seeing the Stars and Stripes raised and lowered each night and morning, here was a Union Jack flying, and people that understood English.

After remustering as an Air Bomber I set off with another companion to get to Dafoe in Northern Saskatchewan. We were given ten days to get there. We stopped in Toronto for two days. Whilst there we managed to get to the top of the Bank of Commerce building, then the tallest building in the British Empire at 33 stories. I thought I would go to an Ice Hockey match as I had never seen the game before. I wrote afterwards and told my Father and he replied that he had, surprisingly, decided to listen to the same match broadcast on the ´óÏó´«Ã½!

The train chugged on over the prairies at about 40 mph. We had two or three days in Winnipeg, then it was another 550 miles to Watson. We were now further from the East Coast of Canada than we had been in Scotland. Here a lorry took us the 28 miles to Dafoe. There was about a metre deep of snow everywhere and only a fortnight or so before I had been in near tropical Florida.

At Dafoe we flew in Ansons and with pilots who seemed to be mostly of East European descent — they had very little English language. In February I was posted to 5 AOS at Winnipeg. One night there over a metre of snow fell in the night. We had to dig our way out of the hut in the morning. Nearby Winnipeg managed to get all its transport flowing again within two days. On April 2nd 1943 I graduated as an Air Bomber and was given a commission. Then back to Moncton, New Brunswick, another three day train ride, to wait for transport across the Atlantic.

Sometime in June we were suddenly told to be ready for transport and were told we could only take what we were wearing and two suitcases. We boarded a train expecting to go to Halifax, but the next day the train was rolling through New England in the US. We arrived in New York and were whisked at high speed in coaches past Times Square and Broadway and then down 49th Street. In the distance loomed a huge grey shape, we got closer and found it was the liner Queen Mary. We hurried up a gangplank and our group of 55 officers were shown into what had been two single first class cabins. The whole space was taken up with bunks five high. When I got into a lower bunk my nose was only about two inches from the bunk above. I volunteered for night watch duty on the bridge. and only went back to the cabin for an hour or twos sleep in the day. The liner had a complete American Division on board. In fact the ship was carrying in total 22,500 people the greatest number that had ever been carried in a boat. One third of the Americans were sleeping on the open deck and they rotated each day.

The liner was zigzagging all the way across the Atlantic, making about a 600 alteration of course every four or five minutes. As it was steaming at full speed the tilt on the turns was alarming. We arrived in Gourock five days later. We were boarded by a Customs officer who got our group together. He said that he knew we had all bought lots of presents in America which would be dutiable and he would be all day if he went through our cases. So he suggested we each pay duty on a dozen pairs of nylons and he would be satisfied. My two cases were worth at least $800 and I had over forty pairs of nylons so I quickly agreed to that arrangement! We were lectured about the importance of not revealing to anyone which ship we had come home on, as the Germans did not know the liners were being used.

When I saw my Father two days later, his first question was "Did you come over on the Queen Mary?"

I was staggered. He said that he had given a lift to a seaman who had immediately said "I've just arrived on the Queen Mary from the US." So much for security.

After leave I was posted to Wales to do Bombing and Gunnery. Then in September I was posted to Abingdon. Here we were to form up into crews and fly Whitleys. I joined with an Australian navigator and together we chose an Australian pilot — Doug Bancroft. Then we got the other members of the crew who were to join us.

In November 1943 we went to Rufforth near York which was an Operational Training Unit. We flew in four engine Mk II Halifaxes until February when we were posted to 158 Squadron at Lissett, near Bridlington. In a surprisingly short time the pilot had learned to fly the Mark III Halifaxes which were completely different to the Mk II's we had been flying. On March 6th 1944, my 23rd birthday, we were briefed for our first operation. We were very apprehensive as the Squadron had been suffering heavy losses.

The target was a railway centre in Northern France and turned out to be relatively easy going. At this point with my earlier pilot flying I had flown over 400 hours. During March, April and May we flew on about 19 operations of which six were to German targets. The rest were French and Belgian railway and military targets.

Approaching June it became obvious that the expected Invasion of Europe would soon take place, but we had no idea where that would be. Several of the railway target were on lines that headed towards the Normandy coastline.

On June 2nd 1944 we were briefed to go to Trappes in Northern France, the same target we had been to in March. Up until now all our operations had been carried out at near the maximum altitude we could reach over 20,000 feet. For this trip we were told that because of a layer of cloud over the target at 8,000 feet we were to fly at 6,000 feet. This seemed dangerously close to the anti-aircraft guns on the ground. and did not give much altitude for diving away from enemy fighter attack.

When we got to the French coast there was a layer of cloud at 6,000 feet and a bright full moon. Above the cloud we threw a large black shadow and below the cloud it was like flying below an illuminated ceiling. It was a small operation with only 70 planes taking part.

Soon after crossing the coast we saw a nearby plane burst into flames and dive to the ground. We could see no anti aircraft fire or Fighter tracer bullets. Then before reaching the target we had seen 14 planes blown out of the sky. I had just released my bombs at the target when a plane just ahead of us burst into flames and went down. We were now very apprehensive! The pilot ordered us all to keep a lookout all round the plane. I layover my bombsight with my face against the glass bombing panel trying to look back under the plane. We were over Evreux when I saw a flash come up from under the plane. Then there was a tremendous concussion, which thumped the bombsight into my chest. I thought I had been hit and was dead. This was brought about by the sudden silence in my headphones and a great quietness in the plane.

We had been hit by about seven large shells, which had blown a large hole in the side of the plane just beyond my feet, an engine had been blown up and was on fire. All electrics and radios were knocked out. There was an eight foot long hole in the fuselage. Two members of the crew had baled out through this hole. The bomb bay doors were blown open and were on fire. A hole about two feet across was blown through the wing and the main petrol tank. This stopped another engine.

As the engineer had baled out, I struggled with the petrol cocks until I managed to get petrol to the engine which had stopped. The Wireless Operator was wounded when the hole was blown alongside him and he dropped out of the front escape hatch, but was never heard of again.

We were over the Channel thinking we were flying north to England when it was realised that the compass was permanently stuck on north because it had shrapnel damage. The pilot looked around and found the Pole Star and turned towards that. We were sinking gradually lower and lower with the drag of the open bomb bays and the flaps which had dropped almost fully down when the engine blew up.

At long last we saw a coastline and scraped over the cliffs — it later proved to be Bournemouth — and landed in a dark patch further inland, which proved to be RAF Hurn — now Bournemouth Airport. The plane was still smouldering.

We four crew that were left were eventually flown back to the Squadron. Our plane was later visited by the then Air Minister and it was officially declared to be the most severely damaged plane to return from an operation. We were awarded DFC's and a DFM for the rear gunner. Unfortunately he got shot down over Holland the next night with another crew and was blinded in one eye.

The Pilot, Navigator and myself teamed up with four more crew members and went on to do a further 21 operations. Six other crews had started with us — 42 aircrew — now we were the only three left!

After that, with the Navigator F/O AIwyn Fripp, I went on to do Radar navigation instruction until I was Demobbed in 1946. I had then flown just on 800 hours.