Memories of 1943 by Flt/Lt RH (Sandy) Rowe DFM, RAF ret.
I had intended to write a short piece about a particular winter spent in East Prussia close to the border with Lithuania. Having second thoughts I decided that it would be more interesting to list the events, which led me to being there.
Being accepted as a Flight Engineer, I joined six other chaps to make up a Lancaster crew. This being done, we were taken to Elsham Wolds and joined 103 Squadron. We arrived during April ’43, the same week that Don Charlwood; the author of “Journeys into Night” was leaving, having completed a tour of thirty operations. Presumably he was leaving thankfully as we arrived hopefully.
It was not long before I, like most bomber crews, realised I was now involved in a very dangerous business indeed. Apart from the fact that every time we flew to mainland Europe, it seemed that everyone who had a suitable gun would be firing in our general direction; myself and crew seemed to get involved in other hazardous situations equally if not more dangerous, which I shall list, not necessarily in the order in which they happened.
Finlay crew. L to R - Fletcher, MacFarlane, MacDonald, Finlay, Gillespie, Rowe and Vivers
A Trip to Italy
We reached the Alps, which were covered in snow, visibility downward being excellent against the white background. I had my head in the side blister window looking down and spoke to our bomb aimer “Jock”, “There is a Lancaster beneath us, slightly in front and drifting from Starboard to Port, keep your eye on it.” I said. “Right” he said, “I can see it,” then, “Hell, it’s firing at us.” I could see tracer shooting up in front and around our aircraft. Our pilot, Douglas, having noted our chat immediately swung to Starboard out of harms way. An inspection of our aircraft later in the day revealed that we had not received a single hit. At debriefing the incident was mentioned. Group Captain Dicken, the Station Commander, was listening to this and then said in a tone of voice, which seemed to imply it was our fault, “You’ve got front guns haven’t you? You should have let him have it; you don’t want to stand for that kind of nonsense!”
I could hardly believe my ears, the C/O actually suggesting that we should have a duel with another Lancaster over the Alps
A Second trip to Italy
We had not seen any of our raiding force since leaving the UK, but occasionally being aware of them by being shaken by the slipstream of an unseen aircraft in front of us. Reaching Lake Geneva our navigator, Mac, announced that we running two minutes early. “Right,” said Douglas, “I’ll do an orbit,” would you believe it, we flew a circle in the middle of the bomber stream, all of course without lights. I won’t enlarge upon this, but merely say that I often wondered how many people we put the wind up that night including ourselves. We never did another orbit!
A Third Visit to Italy
The same target was due to be attacked on two successive nights, Elsham sending half the Squadron each night. My crew was scheduled for the second night. At midday in the Mess after the first raid, I saw a Flight Engineer with his head bandaged. He told me that he had been hit by shrapnel from anti-aircraft shells over the town of Chartres during the return journey; and described the accuracy of the gunners in most colourful language. He suggested that if the same return course was to be used during the coming night we should avoid the town.
At briefing for the coming night the return route was again over Chartres so I mentioned his story to my crew.
We reached the target and bombed successfully but on our return one engine gave trouble over the Alps and had to be stopped. Douglas decided that the aircraft would handle better on three engines if we flew lower, so, as we had passed the highest peaks we dropped from 20,000 feet to 14,000 feet. We were flying quietly across France when one of the crew reported “FLAK” ahead. “That’s Chartres”, said Mac. Douglas then asked for a “dog leg” to clear the town and Mac gave him a course to Port of our original track. After a while Mac gave Douglas a new course to bring us back, making the only mistake he ever made during the tour. He had brought us back right over the town. I was looking down and saw the flash of battery guns and told Douglas, as he swerved to Port, the shell arrived exactly at our height and to Starboard. They fired again, Douglas swung to Starboard, the shells then exploded again at our height but to Port of us. It would seem that we were the only aircraft over the town at that time. I cannot remember how many times we were fired at but it seemed ages before we were out of range. I was greatly relieved; I had expected to be blown to pieces during that short time.
A Night Take Off
We left the airfield and started to climb, circling in the general area of North Lincolnshire. Douglas was concentrating on his instruments in order to maintain maximum rate of climb, to gain as much altitude as possible before setting off for our timed departure point, which was very often Southwold. I had been making notes of engine and fuel instrument readings, and then had a look through the windscreen. Dead ahead was a pair of red and green wingtip navigation lights. I was alert enough to realise that we were on the “wrong side”. That is, the other aircraft was coming towards us and not away.
I alerted Douglas, who put the nose down just in time before the other machine passed over the top of us, not many feet away. That was quite scary. Today that would be referred to as a near miss; I prefer to think of it as a near hit.
Unwanted Bombs
Having returned from Germany, landed safely, and parked neatly at the dispersal I shut off engines. Before leaving I released the hydraulic pressure by selecting “bomb doors open”. This allowed the doors to partly open leaving a gap of maybe three or four inches between them. At debriefing we were informed that there were two delayed action bombs resting on the bomb doors! This was now no concern of ours but no doubt the armourers were not happy to have them removed pretty quickly. Apparently Elsham Wolds were anxious to get rid of this type of bomb, as they could not be made safe. They exploded that afternoon in a nearby field.
An Early Return
We were over the North Sea heading for Germany when the oil pressure of one engine began to drop. I told Douglas that the engine would have to be stopped before the needle reached zero, we would get no thanks if we ruined the engine! It had to be stopped and the propeller feathered. Douglas asked my opinion, maybe partly because I was the oldest of the crew aged 27. I reminded him that the final decision would be his, but mine would be to return for the reason that we would meet plenty of trouble ahead without taking it with us. He decided to return; we dropped the 4,000 lbs bomb into the sea and duly arrived back at Elsham.
The aircraft was now about the recommended maximum landing weight so there was no need to jettison any more bombs or fuel. The airfield lights were lit and we received permission to land. We were coming in nicely and nearly down to the runway when all the airfield lights went out, leaving us facing total blackness. The language was strong; I opened the three relevant throttles fully and started raising the wheels. Douglas managed to lift the machine safely as we headed for higher ground in front of us. As we reached the peak of this higher ground we were surprised to see another fully lit airfield in front of us! This turned out to be Elsham. We had attempted a landing at Kirmington!
Unseen by us there was an airplane on the runway at Kirmington, and a controller seeing our lights approaching his runway, realised it was too late to fire a red flare in front of us just flipped a master switching light. Another narrow escape!!
A Daylight Take Off
Douglas always used as much runway as possible when taking off, following the advice of the Squadron CO Wing Commander Slater who said that lots of speed is essential before attempting to lift the heavily laden machine off the ground.
This evening we were using the runway, which would take us toward Brigg, the end being where the water works is now. At the signal to go I opened the throttles, then focused my attention to the engine temperatures, which were usually rather high after negotiating the perimeter track. We gained speed, the temperatures remained satisfactory, I the glanced out of the side window and was surprised to see only grass with no sign of the runway, although we had not left the ground. I looked forward – no runway, only grass and hedges. The air speed indicator was reading normal for take off and Douglas was looking very serious; we just cleared the hedges as I was raising the wheels accompanied by a jocular remark from the mid-upper gunner – something about hanging his handkerchief to dry on the telephone wires.
We were now safe, the airfield being rather high and the ground towards Brigg dropping away below us. “You kept it down long enough” I suggested to Douglas. “It wouldn’t lift”, was his reply. He then asked me to raise the flaps and as I put my hand on the control I looked at the flap gauge and was horrified to see it reading zero.
On our return, preparing to land, Douglas asked for the degrees of flap opening he required. I selected this and noticed that the gauge needle was dropping to zero. I suggested that we had a hydraulic fault and that the wind was blowing them up. To maintain the degrees he required I had to constantly manipulate the flap control until we reached the ground and halfway along the runway by which time the wind had lost its power.
Disaster
It was now August the 23rd in fact and we were still surviving, although the casualty figure for the squadron since April was approaching 200. We were at dispersal, prepared, and ready for the signal to start engines and move off for a journey to Berlin. A nearby aircraft lettered “C” was having some last minute repairs with the bomb doors open and by some mischance all the bombs fell out of the bomb bay to the ground, with incendiaries becoming ignited.
Wing Commander Slater was in the area and told us to move our aircraft lettered “H” as we were in the danger area close to “C”. We started a couple of engines and headed for a safe area but in order to do so had to pass ever so close to “C”. When we were at our closest the whole lot exploded, the bombs and the aeroplane complete with its 2,000 gallons plus of fuel.
A huge flame developed outward and upward, I thought I would be engulfed! Sadly our wireless operator, Harry Wheeler, was killed instantly by shrapnel, which had penetrated and badly damaged “H”. Our luck had changed.
103 Squadron Sgt Harry Wheeler back row and MUG Sgt W C C Gillespie RCAF left
The End
103 Squadron Finlay, England, Van Rolleghem and Templeman Rooke pictured at 81 OTU
Exactly one month later on September 23rd, we were approaching the twin towns of Mannheim and Ludwigshaven with a replacement aeroplane and wireless operator, when Lenz Finster and Siegfried Beugal in their ME 110 sneaked up underneath us and riddled us with cannon fire. The result of this was loss of most of the engine and fuel instrument readings, two engines being stopped, the port wing on fire and the death of two more of our crew, the wireless operator and the mid-upper gunner. I left by parachute and landed in a forest clearing surprised to note that I was still alive and unhurt. As I was gathering up my chute, another one settled on top of a nearby tall tree.
103 Squadron MacFarlane and Fletcher
It was our navigator Mac scuffling among the top branches. He answered most irately when I asked him if he could get down, stating that he did not know, as he had not climbed up! He got down okay with just a few scratches from the branches. This now was a difficult situation, being in enemy country where aircrew were hated, we had no boots, they had blown off, and of course we had no food and drink. We left the area quickly, Mac’s parachute being like a beacon, commencing a walk towards France, travelling during the hours of darkness and hiding by day. For food we eventually found an orchard and carried a supply of apples our waist under our battledress. For drink the best we could do was stagnant rainwater found in cartwheel ruts in field entrances. Our efforts were in vain; we were discovered one week later hiding in a loft adjacent to a dwelling house in Saarbruchen.
That meant the end of five months hazardous flying and now I was going to send the coming winter in a POW camp in East Prussia. What the immediate future would hold I should no doubt find out in due course.
Flt/Lt RH (Sandy) Rowe DFM, RAF ret.
June 2008.
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