A Special Duty (9 page)

Failure after failure continued to dog the northern-Italian operations, and the reasons were many and various. Aircraft encountered heavy fire from the ground while flying over occupied territory en-route and, when they got there, unpredictable air currents generated by the mountains rendered aircraft almost uncontrollable. A selection of comments from the Operations Record Book makes it clear what the difficulties were from the crew’s point of view: “Unable to pinpoint because of cloud…Aircraft found to be off track impossible to define position”, and, “Target very difficult and unsuitable for non-moon periods”. In one case a group of personnel refused to jump when over the dropping ground. Wing Commander Pitt decided to interview a selection of pilots in an attempt to pin down the reasons for the poor results, and he found that, quite coincidentally, technical failures had been higher than normal and pilots reported high numbers of “No reception at target”. He sounded rather sceptical about the latter in his subsequent report, but lack of familiarity with the area was certainly a factor. Another was that Italy was more heavily German controlled than the Balkans, and it had been shown in Europe that this led to a high failure rate. The conclusions drawn at the end of the exercise were that better weather and moonlight were required for northern-Italian supply drops, and the obvious point was made that closer liaison should take place with the army as regards the selection of reception areas. The ABRAM dropping ground was an example of an unsuitable site, being in a deep valley and only visible when the aircraft was directly overhead. The wing commander concluded that “Insufficient thought was given to the flying limitations of a Halifax”, when the army was planning drop zones.
vi

The detailed planning for an operation began as soon as the crew had been briefed on their destination for the night. The navigator would assess likely wind direction and the pilot would determine, in advance, the direction for the safest run in to the drop zone, i.e. parallel to a hill or mountainside. Once over the dropping ground the pilot would then adjust his controls to counter the effects of crosswinds. The bomb aimer, waiting to hear from the navigator that they were over the target, would then have to take all these competing forces into consideration when timing the release of parachuted containers, which could, in spite of meticulous planning and skill, still be carried off target by unexpected wind currents generated by the terrain. Eddie Elkington-Smith, experienced bomb aimer on the Storey crew, ruefully recalls getting it wrong on a drop in the Italian Alps. The aircraft was being thrown around by dangerous up-currents, and in spite of a well-practiced procedure the containers drifted off-course and were last seen tumbling over the edge of an Alpine plateau.
vii
Two stand-down days in March 1944 were used by the Squadron to carry out delayed-drop tests from 3000ft, to see whether the bombsight could be used to allow both for the forward travel of the load before the chutes opened, and also for the drift of the chutes after opening. Being able to estimate the strength and direction of the lower winds seemed to be the critical factor, plus the fabric of the parachutes, which were prone to rip with the shock on exit. Until further tests were complete, it seemed that success still depended on the judgement and experience of pilot, navigator and bomb aimer, but the high failure rate and waste of supplies was prompting efforts to refine dropping techniques.

One route up to the Italian Alps took aircraft over German-occupied Rome, La Spezia and Genoa, and the crew were given an unusual exercise to perform on the way; they called it “Playing silly B’s”. As they flew past Rome they turned towards the city in mock attack and, as they did this, the city lights would go off, the searchlights and sirens would come on, and up would come the flak. They then turned back on course and did the same over La Spezia and Genoa, knowing that, half-an-hour behind them another aircraft would do the same, making sure nobody on the ground got any rest. The reason for these mock attacks puzzled me, particularly as the aircraft did not carry bombs and seemed to be presenting themselves as targets unnecessarily, but the mock bombing raids were part of a wider picture in the spring of 1944. Allied troops had landed on the Anzio beaches in January
4
and been unable to break out and move on Rome. During this period of stalemate Eisenhower and Montgomery had moved on to prepare for the invasion of France. It was given to General Wilson, Supreme Commander Mediterranean, to reduce the flow of supplies to German forces and make it impossible for them to move or operate effectively in central Italy. He issued a memorandum stating that: “The main function of all classes of bomber aircraft in a land campaign is to interfere with the movement of enemy forces and their supplies”. He was referring to traditional bombers, but the objective was to tie down the enemy, force them to expend ammunition and keep them away from the planned Overlord front and the Anzio beaches.
viii
Mock attacks by Halifax supply aircraft on a regular run up to Northern Italy were probably quite effective at assisting this strategy of disruption to enemy supply lines.

“Maximum effort on Polish targets” was the instruction from 334 Wing for the 16th March, and all ten available aircraft were fitted with overload tanks for the trip, but a poor met forecast in the early afternoon meant removing all the overload tanks – an enormous effort – and the aircraft were switched to Italian and Greek targets. The Storey crew were given a supply drop to resistance fighters near Susa in the Piedmont region of northern Italy,
5
and their recollections of that night would have nothing to do with the frustrating lack of reception signals in perfect visibility, but the sight of a huge glow in the sky as they turned for home. “The boys must have bombed Genoa and La Spezia,” they said, but no, it wasn’t that and as they flew on the glow got bigger. “Surely they haven’t done Rome?” No, they could see that it wasn’t Rome, and still the glow was getting bigger. “Good God, have the Germans bombed Naples?” They got closer and were finally able to see that the glow in the sky was coming from Vesuvius. It had erupted while they were airborne and was spewing out red-hot lava and sending smoke and flames high into the night sky. The crew had never seen anything like this before and decided to go in for a closer look, but an unexpected consequence of this action gave them a nasty shock. Hot debris melted on the aircraft’s plexiglass windscreen and reduced visibility to zero, forcing the penitent crew to land that night with Tom hanging out of the side window to see where he was going. There was great relief all round when, on getting back, they found that the wing commander had arrived back with his aircraft in even worse condition. In a far more perilous situation were the crews of the 340th Bomb Group stationed at Pompeii Airfield just a few kilometres from the foot of Mount Vesuvius. Almost all of their B-25 Mitchell medium bombers were damaged by the hot ash and some were even tipped onto their tails by the weight of debris.
ix
To have Vesuvius erupt at this critical period of the war seems almost theatrical – a force of nature exploding onto the scene as though the Gods had been unleashed in a fury. As the eruption progressed over the following nights, Brindisi itself was covered in a layer of volcanic dust.
x

Vesuvius, March 1944

(Photo from NARA in College Park, MD) courtesy of Don Kaiser
http://www.warwingsart.com/12thAirForce/Vesuvius.html
Image 17:

Fires and flames remained significant to Dad. In later years, he took enormous trouble rolling newspaper into coils for lighting a fire and then a double sheet would be stretched over the front to help the draw. We might be watching Top of the Pops, Mum busy in the kitchen, Cilla Black singing: “Anyone who had a heart would hold me…”, and from Dad: “She can belt out a song that one!” Then, more often than not, the newspaper would catch light and the flames would shoot high – Vesuvius in our back room – momentary flurry of activity, smoke making us cough and then we would all return to our pursuits, Dad gradually retreating into another place, staring at the flames hour after hour, elbows rested on knees, bent forward watching the flickering and dancing curls of light, the murmur of our young, chattering voices barely reaching him. We didn’t understand the significance of fires in those days – we were young and our minds were full of pop songs and school friends – but strangely enough it would be a fire that would one day lead us to an understanding of that “other place” and its significance for Tom. But that was for the future…

Spotting the fires meant that, for the crew, the long cold hours of flight had not been in vain and they could record a DCO (did complete operation) in their logbook. The reception groups lit them more in hope than expectation, as experience had taught them that, even if the planes arrived, they didn’t necessarily drop. Basil Davidson of SAVANNA, after two months in the Vojvodina area with no supplies, put it like this:

“Even when once or twice planes tried to reach us, we with the fires lit upon the ground could only hear the hum of their engines above the overcast, and they in the air could not see our fires. We would stand out in the snow for hours on end around a fire that Steve with inhuman skill had managed to kindle, lighting up at half past ten and tramping back to bed at two, wet and shivering, angry and disappointed. In the morning I would wireless: Planes heard over our fires zero one thirty hours. Confirm. And Base would confirm, trying to be cheerful: Sorry, no fires seen.”
xi

Mid-March was an unsettled period at Brindisi base: the Squadron was forced to make contingency plans for civil disturbance by anti-Badaglio elements in the town. Sten guns were made available at Headquarters and at the tented camp, and armed guards were placed on all aircraft, but despite the appearance on the streets of a few steel-helmeted loyalist guards, nothing developed. Things were however developing in eastern Yugoslavia, where German troops had been massing for the seventh offensive, determined to reoccupy the Sava and the plain of Semberija (Operation Wegweiser).
xii
Caught up in this was Major Basil Davidson, who sent an urgent message to Cairo: “Enemy in Racha yesterday – STOP – grateful any help you can give by speeding up sorties.”
xiii
The request was for ammunition and Bren guns, and Cairo responded quickly with two aircraft; Halifax JP161 flown by Flight Sergeant Clackett, which took off just after midnight, and Tom Storey’s JN888, which having returned from an Italian drop at 0300, was reloaded and back in the air later that day heading for the SAVANNA dropping ground at Brodac. Major Davidson and Tito’s General Sava waited for the supplies with the enemy closing in. They had been moving between Yugoslav territory and Hungarian-annexed areas on the far side of the Sava River in an attempt to liaise with left-wing resistance groups there, but were now caught up in an enemy operation to clear out partisan divisions who were making a nuisance of themselves blowing up trains and causing disruption on the Zagreb to Belgrade supply route. As the Croatian Waffen SS Division moved in, Davidson was forced to move quickly over the Sava River to temporary safety, and it was from there that he had sent his urgent signal to Cairo HQ. Flying conditions were poor, and the Storey crew were not optimistic about finding the drop zone, but unexpectedly, and to great delight, they found a clear cloud window over the target and immediately spotted the signal fires below. As they swept down and dropped the supplies bang on the signal fires, the partisans could be seen collecting the containers and a relieved and happy Tom Storey said: “Let’s do a beat up”
6
. He banked and brought the aircraft down low again over the camp and Eddie, from his position in the nose, looked down and watched as the slipstream caught the fires and scattered them to the four winds. The partisans flattened themselves on the ground and Tom dipped a wing before setting course for home and roaring off into the night.

The story of this supply drop was known in the family as “The burning of Tito’s coat”, and other crew members spoke or wrote of the same incident. In all our anecdotal accounts however, the emergency supply drop was for Tito himself, who sent a signal the following day: “RAF saved the day but burned my bloody coat!”
xiv
Walter Davis remembered that a replacement coat was dropped to Tito and, years later at a post-war reception at the Yugoslav Embassy, the story of the coat was still talked about. I have tried very hard to find the evidence to corroborate this story, willing it to be true because the crew were quite sure of it, and as children we loved to hear it, but however much I trawl through records and log entries, Tito was eighty or so miles away at his HQ in Drvar at the time of the emergency drop. The evidence has not borne out the story and, although I live in hope of turning up that message from Tito, for the moment I have to accept that, if anyone’s coat was burned, it was probably that of Basil Davidson or General Sava. Davidson barely had time to gather in his supplies before the muffled thump of enemy mortar-fire forced him to move on, rushing a signal off to Cairo to make sure that further supplies were not dropped on the Brodac pinpoint: “Cancel RPT cancel pinpoint Brodac RPT Brodac. Enemy attacked at four hours GMT STOP pinpoint and signals tomorrow – sorry.” He sent a new pinpoint the following day, which was also quickly cancelled and finally a third, Mezgrazia, to which P/O Harding in Halifax BB422 dropped a further load on the night of 19/20
^th
March.