Medium Bombers - 2nd T.A.F.

FROM Odd Bods Secretary and Co-Founder George Smith of Ringwood East, holder of the French Legion d'Honneur.

At the end of July 1944 our crew of Pilot Ted Burn (RAF) a "Geordie"; David Kirk, Nav/B, a Londoner; Jim Freeman, A/G from Essex and myself a W/AG (they had to have a "colonial" to keep their spirits up) arrived at Dunsfold 'drome in Surrey to join 180 Squadron (B25 Mitchells) 139 Wing, 2 Group, 2nd TAF. There was a permanent establishment but aircrews were billetted in 4-men tents in a wood close to the Station perimeter.

On operations the medium bombers flew in close formation in boxes of 6 to ensure the best possible bombing pattern on the smaller targets we attacked and as a good "fighter defence" mechanism. Our first 2 Ops, on marshalling yards and an ammunition dump both in northern Normandy, went off fairly well but things were to change.

On Sunday 6 August news came through from the French Maquis that the Germans had brought up from southern France large numbers of panzers to throw into the battle around Falaise and many of them were hiding in a forest south east of Thury Harcourt. At 1845 hours we took off in "P" Peter as part of a force of 36 aircraft from the Wing. As we approached the target area it wasn't difficult to see where we were heading as the leading boxes were already copping a pasting - our first experience of a "box barrage'.

The problem for our box was worsened when we heard those awful words from the leader's bomb-aimer; "Sorry Skipper, around again" and the leader dutifully took us in a wide sweep to port. We joined the queue once again and began the run in. We saw aircraft going down and others dropping out of formation badly damaged. Every aircraft in our box was damaged; for us part of the starboard fin and rudder was gone and there was a large hole in the starboard engine nacelle. As an example, 226 Squadron 137 Wing had 18 aircraft on that Op and 6 of them force-landed in northern France including Odd Bod Ray Kelly and his crew. Fading power and falling behind the formation and losing height our skipper decided we would not make it across the Channel and he spotted a small strip which turned out to be B7, a Typhoon strip. In spite of the Commanding Officer of the squadron waving us off, Ted landed "P" Peter at speed on what looked like a cricket pitch. Straight off the meshing runway we went into a cornfield, leaving quite a mess. None of us understood a lot of the French language but there was no mistaking what the irate French farmer thought of us and no doubt of our parentage.

We stayed the night with the Typhoon boys and the next day were taken to B14 strip and flown by Dakota to Northolt to await an aircraft from the squadron to pick us up.

Two interesting things happened while we were waiting. A Dakota arrived in the circuit escorted by a large number of Spitfires and when it landed who should appear at the door but the Prime Minister, Winston himself, of course with the cigar already lit! He waved to the assembled small crowd, possibly thinking what a scruffy lot were the group of airmen, coated with all that Normandy dust, unshaven and with all their gear.

The other thing we noticed was a York aircraft, not often seen, and went to investigate. Finding the door open we were intrigued at how lavishly appointed it was and while absorbed in sticky­beaking a "Chiefie" (Flight Sergeant) came along and explained that Lord Mountbatten was on a flying visit to U.K. from Burma and it was his aircraft.

We received a message that the squadron aircraft would not be coming until the next day so we were found a billet and arrived back at Dunsfold at 1400 hours on the 8th to be told that we were on the battle order the following day the 9th August.

Operation No. 4-Ammunition Dump--South East of Rouen

On 9 August '44 the target was a large ammunition dump in the centre of a forest near the town of Ferrile, with take-off at 1020 hours. Our aircraft on this Op, "T" Tommy, a Mark 2 Mitchell, had glazed housing in the tail end of the fuselage to accommodate a kneeling gunner and it contained two .5 inch machine guns that had limited lateral and vertical movement. The gunner had to crawl into the very cramped position, kneel on 2 pads and pull up the seat behind him; to get out he had to crawl backwards. Not a favourite position but it was mine for the day.

The run in over the French coast was uneventful until just prior to reaching the target area, when we came under intense and accurate flak. David Kirk, our Nav/B called out that he had been hit and the skipper directed me to come forward and attend to David. I backed out of my little cubby hole, gathered my 'chute and crawled over the bomb bay (noticing that the bomb bay doors were open - hydraulics were gone!) to the front of the aircraft. The nose of the Mitchell was accessible through a narrow tunnel which ran under the pilot's seat from the main spar area, and so I entered the tunnel to find the chaos in the nose.

David in the Bomb-aimer's position had been hit badly in the left leg above the knee. I explained to him that I intended to get him out by backing into the tunnel and dragging him by the shoulders. But first I had to clear the debris, broken equipment, wires etc. away from his left leg and then we began the moving operation. I had David's shoulders and arms into the tunnel entrance when he cried out that his leg was caught. I backed out of the tunnel, took off my harness and (knowing my present day stumpy build you will find this hard to believe) I crawled over David's body into the nose again, freed his foot and crawled out the same way, getting us out into the well between the pilot's seat and the bomb bay.

I opened the first aid kit only to find that the tourniquet strap was missing, so I used David's communication cord to apply the tourniquet, dressed his wounds and gave him a morphine injection. I made him as comfortable as I could and went to check on the skipper. He told me that he had been hit in the left thigh but it didn't seem too bad.

As we came out over the French coast we encountered more flak, which brought from Jim, the gunner, "S--- that was bloody close!". Once over the Channel the skipper jettisoned the bombs. As we neared the English coast Ted asked me to check the bomb bay and join Jim for the two of us to try to wind down the undercarriage as the hydraulics were u/s. Try as we would we could not budge the landing gear, eventually breaking the winding mechanism in the process. What is that about greater strength accompanies fear?

Gunner Jim and I moved forward. He took the spare seat next to the skipper to help him during the landing and I braced myself in the well with my back against the bomb bay wall, David nestled between my legs with my arms around him preparatory to the crash landing. Dunsfold tower diverted us to Hartford Bridge where 137 Wing (Mitchells & Bostons) was located as they had better medical facilities available.

The skipper had to make a crash landing with the port wheel still in the nacelle, the starboard wheel only partly out of the nacelle, the nose wheel who knew where, no flaps and the bomb bay doors open. What a wonderful job he did getting us down on to the grass on the starboard side of the runway with "T" Tommy doing a huge arc to port, across the runway and the FIDO pipes, finally settling in a cloud of dust. The emergency services crews were on the spot immediately and because of the starboard wheel being partly down we were able to jettison the bottom hatch. The medicos got David out and off to the Base Sick Quarters together with the skipper. An ambulance took them to military hospital at Aldershot where the skipper was relieved of the splinter in his leg and was returned to Hartford Bridge. David had his left leg amputated.

Epilogue. David Kirk recovered well and had a long career in the Administration Branch RAF postwar, rising to the rank of Wing Commander. He spent some years with RAF in Paris at NATO headquarters, resigning to take up an equivalent civilian position with SHAEF in Brussels where he lived for 16 years. On retirement he and his wife Margot migrated to Australia in the mid-1980s. He was a member of the Odd Bods from 1986 until his death in 2003.

On 3rd December '44 Ted Burn was accidentally shot in the head whilst sleeping on his stretcher in our billet near Melsbroek 'drome, Brussels after having just that morning completed our 44th Op. The shooting was the result of an act of utter stupidity as the occupant of the next cubicle to Ted, a Kiwi Nav/B, was hammering a nail into the partition to hang the latest photo of his girl friend using the butt of his .38 pistol. The pistol discharged, the bullet passing through the wall and striking Ted in the back of the skull. He survived after a long battle but was paralysed down the left side and lived until 1990. Ted was awarded the Distinguished Flying Medal for his service.

Before we left Hartford Bridge to return to Dunsfold late on 9th August the Chiefie asked us to look at our aircraft, which had been moved closer to the hangars, pointing out that as well as the other damage, the tail end looked like a colander. The flak that we had encountered coming out over the French coast had indeed been "bloody close".

During the day I discovered that I had lost my .38 revolver; it was nowhere in the aircraft and I could only assume that I had lost it whilst climbing over the bomb bay - yes, I wasn't wearing a lanyard! When we got back to base I reported the loss and of course was told that there would be an inquiry, the end result of which was that I was found to be negligent and required to pay one-third of the cost. In March 1945 just before returning home to Australia I had to report to RAF Catterick to receive a lecture about "care of weapons" and to have 6 pounds 19 shillings and 6 pence deducted from my pay book.

FROM Odd Bod David Kirk, Merimbula, NSW on 9 August, 1994.

A voice from the past to our former Secretary, Henry Hoysted. Both members are deceased. This letter has re-surfaced from a search of the records, and bears tribute to our remarkable Co-Founder George Smith.

Dear Henry,

Although still a new sprog in Odd Bods terms, I had hoped to attend the 40th Birthday Party on the 24th. Unfortunately, due to a number of circumstances, including being scheduled for a spot of very minor surgery on the remains of my left leg on that day, I shall not be able to make it, so I send my apologies to the President, Committee and esteemed members and promise to be with you in spirit.

My main reason for hoping to be present was to pay tribute to a founder member and past President - George Smith. I first met George early in 1944, under the RAF's peculiar 'crewing-­up' procedure, at a Ventura OTU at Pennfield Ridge in New Brunswick, Canada. That course kept us together until the end of March, then we went separate ways until a Mitchell conversion course at Finmere, Buckinghamshire in July. From Finmere we took a roundabout rail journey via Bircham Newton to join 180 Squadron at Dunsfold on 2nd August 1944. A hectic week later, fifty years ago today, George was hauling me down the tunnel from the nose, tying a tourniquet round my leg, pumping morphine into me, comforting me and our skipper who had also been hit, and in his spare time trying, in the absence of hydraulic fluid, to wind down the undercart. In that latter endeavour he failed - because the wormdrive broke. The skipper was well enough to make a good landing with one main wheel down and locked and the other flapping in the breeze - good enough for the walkers to walk away from - by that time I had ceased to take an intelligent interest in the proceedings.

The point of all this is that had it not been for George's initiative and actions, I would not have been around to even consider attending any Odd Bods function; I would not be functioning at all! Despite that series of rather brief acquaintances in 1944, George never gave up on me. He maintained a very one-sided correspondence, briefing me on the development of his family in exchange for an occasional Christmas card. In 1981 I made my first visit to Australia and saw George again for the first time in over 35 years - even then I had to strain his goodwill by departing on ANZAC Day. That was the year that George marched with you but then dashed out to Tullamarine to wish me farewell instead of lunching with you.

That's the sort of man George Smith is and typical of those Odd Bods it has been my privilege to meet - and might explain why I had hoped to be with you on August 24th. But it is not to be. My best wishes to you all; I'm sure we'll meet again.

David Kirk.

(ED: It was hard work getting the story from George. He was apprehensive that readers would think he was shooting the proverbial line. I think you will agree that it is a moving account from a modest man, doing his best for a comrade in distress and making light of his own discomfort and misfortunes. Adequate confirmation of his account is given by the letter from David).