Sgt Maurice Wedgwood Finney DFC RAFVR – 103 Squadron and later 156 Pathfinder Squadron – 1943/44
Wireless Operator.
F/L R F Griffin and crew. See Griffin Profile here
I am most grateful to Mark Finney, the son of Maurice, for this splendid account of his father who served as a wireless operator with 103 Squadron from November 1943 to March 1944.
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My father was born in 1922. The battle fields of Europe were still in much evidence after the blood sweat and tears of the Great War. Maurice was born into an era; where it was highly possible that you would be called up to serve your country. And so it was that father volunteered to join the RAF before he was dragooned against his will, and ordered into either of the other two services.
Being practically minded and fairly cool headed, he felt flying was preferable to being tossed about in an ocean storm, or sat in a trench for months on end.
Basic training took him to many places, but he did recall being based for a while on the North Wales coast, and flying in terrible string bag kites over Snowdonia. learning in flight radio controls. He told me this whilst visiting a beach, and remarked,’ I was based around here when training.’ I asked the name of the airfield but he just shrugged, he had no idea?
Sentiment never played much of a part in father’s life, especially his war years? On accepting a job in Essex, he accompanied me on the six hour drive from our home in Shropshire. To help eat up the miles he recounted as much as he could remember about the RAF. That was the only time he ever did! Sadly, at the age of seventy I can only remember snippets of what he told me.
Each Remembrance Sunday he’d reluctantly march in the town’s parade but never in uniform. An old pal who had served in the Army and knew just what Maurice had gone through, insisted he attend, ‘Half the buggers there today never fired a shot in anger’ he’d say which, made farther squirm. Nor would he attend reunions, he was not one to stand at a bar and recount wartime activities. To some that was an odd view to have as he had so much to be proud about? ‘Normally, those who crow the most did the least.’ he would say.
During his ops with main force he saw numerous accidents in and around the airfields. Once a Lanc crash landed on the strip and blew all the windows out of the officer’s mess. Getting to his feet all that could be seen was a black pawl of smoke. Never encouraged to assist in such events was a wise decision, and he never went anywhere near such sights. Surviving was bad enough without filling the eyes with images from hell.
However, according to my cousin David, Maurice did recount an incident that occurred in Sept 1944 whilst returning from an attack in northern Germany, probably Kiel, they were ‘bounced’ by a night fighter, possibly from north east Holland. It took out two starboard engines, killed the co-pilot and wounded the pilot ‘Griff.’ It also took out some of the control hydraulics. Maurice went forward from his radio desk and helped remove the dead friend, then spent the next 2-3 hours helping ‘Griff’ keep control of the stricken plane and maintaining a height of around a thousand feet. This required continuously hauling on the helm until they were able to land safely at Upwood. I had no idea of this event as Maurice had withheld that little gem?
Empty beds and quieter mess bars than the night before was all too familiar and an unavoidable part of daily life on ops. He always stiff armed new friendships, apart from his own crew, as this could lead very quickly to being constantly grief stricken. This extra skin was essential when being part of a bomber squadron. As one fellow crew member once said to Maurice, ‘If we are lucky enough to live through this lot, then and only then, can we shed a tear.’
Airfield names were mentioned, like Elsham Wolds and Upwood. Until recently, I had no idea which squadrons Maurice was assigned to before 156 and was pleased to discover, he did his main force tour with 103?
Only once did he look down on the actual zone being bombed. Griff (pilot) suggested he take a quick look. What he saw, possibly was the reason he never spoke about those missions? He compared the picture as horrific in terms of the bight colours and smoke from the fires, and the unending spiralling anti aircraft fire heading skywards towards them. Before he quickly returned to his position a huge explosion occurred ahead at about the same height, it was a direct hit on a fellow lanc! They were past the explosion site in a blink of an eye, with little or no evidence of there ever being a plane there! On a number of occasions the rattle of flack fragments were heard passing down the plane’s fuselage, it was a regular event.
Maurice was awarded the DFC, but I’m not aware of him saying he went to London to receive it? He never used it to his advantage, by placing it after his name which, according to the protocol of the day, could be used to attain a good position and salary in the immediate post war years. Why? I have no idea, and nor does anyone else? In retrospect, he did not need it to succeed in his teaching profession.
After the tour with 156, Maurice applied and got a ground job teaching the rudimentaries of the RAF radio. This triggered a move to Silverstone which, my mother Jock hated, as she was a Shropshire lass, and missed the hills and valleys.
She proudly proclaimed that she was the fourteenth girl in Shropshire to join the Land army! Jock and Maurice married at a small church on the outskirts of Bridgnorth, and just a stones throw from the farm where she was billeted. It was all done on a 48 hour pass. The honey moon was a hotel in Kidderminster….I think? Maurice went straight back to RAF Upwood Cambridgeshire. That's how it was, married on the weekend and a widowed by Wednesday! Sadly, for too many that was usually the way it went? I guess that was life in Bomber Command, living amongst the ones you love and the place you called home one minute, and the next, facing the hell of a mission over an enemy who just wanted you dead. How on earth did anyone ever reconciled themselves to such a way of life? I do know Maurice’s father Bill cried in private, for at least a day, each time he returned after home leave.
On one occasion Maurice recalled, he lost his ever present cool on a quick shakedown flight in daylight; around the Upwood area. The pilot and other crew members wanted to have a bit of fun and buzz either the drome or the surrounding area. Maurice was having none of that, and reprimanded everyone through communication's not to be so bloody stupid.’
His reasoning was clear, life expectancy was almost zero without pranging the kite and killing everyone just for the hell of it! His pilot (thankfully) came to his senses and landed safely. That was Maurice, he didn’t want to be in that plane any more than any other sound of mind individual, and larking about was simply crass. That said, on the ground and after his flying period he and his RAF fellows enjoyed a drink after a cricket or football match. On one occasion Maurice arrived at his lodgings, steering a car from the passenger seat whilst another worked the foot pedals with his hands from the rear seat! Jock was never at ease with such tom foolery but knew exactly why he behaved in such a manner on occasions. Driving across busy’ A’ road junctions was another prank, that could have been so catastrophic if missed timed?
On leaving the RAF Maurice moved back to Shropshire and applied to become a teacher. His first stint was at a junior church school in Shifnal. Once a brand new Secondary Modern School was built in the town in the early fifties, he moved to there and remained for the rest of his working life. However, Jock and Maurice lived in Madeley five miles or so from the school. During the post war period the pair had two boys Stuart and Mark, and they in turn, delivered five grand children plus one great grand child, of which three girls became teachers and, latterly, head mistress and a lecture. The boys each attained positions of responsibility. He would have been so proud of all their accomplishments. Two of his grandsons, and great grandson have many of Maurice’s qualities. Like him, they love sport, and even talk in the same deep tones.
During his retirement Maurice spent many hours managing the Madeley Flat lets, a facility for the elderly, with little or no means of renting or owning a property. I believe he was treasurer of an elderly hospital known as the Beaches, where many towns folk ended their days. Never apart from Jock, the pair were formidable in their charity work. However, it was not all social work, as the pair enjoyed playing golf and became members of Lilleshall Golf Club. Here, Maurice would organise teams for four ball matches and play in some atrocious weather, but it never phased his enthusiasm.
To his family he was head of house, and always fair and warm toward us all. Many family and friends sort his wise council in times of worry and trouble, with almost an immediate feeling of well being? He acted as surrogate farther to his two daughters- in- law giving them unending love and support.
Now Maurice has gone, he passed away in 1996 just as have many of his flying contemporaries. His beloved Jock died sixteen years later at the grand age of ninety five. Also gone are the runways at Elsham Wolds and Upwood. For just a small amount of historical time, these places were busy hubs of warfare. Men and women worked hard and played with the same intensity. Sadly, many few away into the night and oblivion. Young, frightened and in many cases, never lived long enough to enjoy the love of a woman, marriage and children.
I can’t help looking at old obliterated airfields, and wondering what those lost soles would think if by some quirk of nature, they returned? There would be no mandatory debrief or breakfast and bed. Those huts and eating halls are now beneath the weeds or the thicket of a wood. The once broad and impressive runways, now littered with either chicken sheds or scrap heaps. Many lost forever without a trace as if expunged from memory. More importantly, the people who lived there and the personalities and friends who made them special are now lost to history.
However, those of us who knew any bomber crew members that who flew in those cold, noisy, tin and perspex machines; in an endeavour to do their bit to serve King and country will never be forgotten.
Mark Wedgwood Finney
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Footnote.
Griffin's crew at the start of their tour with 103 Squadron was as follows
F/O R F Griffin
Sgt C F Pretlove
F/S D S Jackson
Sgt J J Corkery
Sgt S W West
Sgt M W Finney
Sgt F I Ide
There were one or two personnel changes through their time with 103 Sqn.
The ops they flew with 103 Squadron were as follows :-
26-Nov-43 – Berlin – Lancaster – JB487 – F/O RF Griffin - Diverted to Croft because of bad visibilty at base
16-Dec-43 – Berlin – Lancaster – JB736 – F/L RF Griffin
20-Dec-43 – Frankfurt – Lancaster – JB530 – F/L RF Griffin
23-Dec-43 – Berlin – Lancaster – JB530 – F/L RF Griffin
29-Dec-43 – Berlin – Lancaster – JB530 – F/L RF Griffin
02-Jan-44 – Berlin – Lancaster – JB530 – F/L RF Griffin
20-Jan-44 – Berlin – Lancaster – N/K – F/L RF Griffin
21-Jan-44 – Magdeburg – Lancaster – JB530 – F/L RF Griffin
27-Jan-44 – Berlin – Lancaster – JB530 – F/L RF Griffin
24-Feb-44 – Schweinfurt – Lancaster – JB746 – F/L RF Griffin
25-Feb-44 – Augsburg – Lancaster – JB746 – F/L RF Griffin
11 ops all carried out
Posted to 156 Squadron 15th March 1944 to complete their tour.
Many thanks to Mark Finney for this wonderful contribution and the accompanying photographs
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