Mosquito: Menacing the Reich: Combat Action in the Twin-engine Wooden Wonder of World War II (29 page)

Flight Lieutenant Leicester G. Smith RNZAF, a B.XVI pilot in 128 Squadron at Wyton, who with his RAF navigator Warrant Officer Bill Lane completed 52 operations October 1944-April 1945. Twenty of these ops were to Berlin. (
Leicester G. Smith
)

B.Mk.XVI ML963 K-King. ML963 was assigned to 109 Squadron on 9 March 1944, transferring to 692 Squadron on 24 March, before becoming8K-K in 571 Squadron on 12 April and which flew this Squadron’s first sortie on 12/13 April 1944, to Osnabrück. On 1 January 1945 it wasflown by Flight Lieutenant N.J. Griffiths and Flying Officer W.R. Ball on the precision raids against the railway tunnels in the Eiffel regionduring the Battle of the Bulge. Their 4,000lb delayed-action bomb totally destroyed a tunnel at Bitburg. On 20-24 March 1945, now coded ‘F-Freddie’, ML963 flew six consecutive ops to Berlin. On 10/11 April 1945, having flown 87 ops, ML963 failed to return from Berlin following anengine fire. The ‘Cookie’ was jettisoned and Flying Officer Richard Oliver and Flight Sergeant Max Young, who baled out near the Elbe,returned safely. (
Charles E. Brown
)

The bombing of the small island of Heligoland on 18 April 1945 when a daylight attack was made on the U-boat base, the airfield and the town by 969 aircraft – 617 Lancasters, 332 Halifaxes and 20Mosquitoes. Bombing was accurate and the target areas were turned almost into crater-pitted moonscapes. Ninety-five per cent of all the houses on Heligoland were destroyed leaving 2,000 civilians homeless. Fifty German soldiers were killed and 150 injured. Three Halifaxes were lost. (
via Derek Patfield
)

Banff Mosquitoes attacking Leirvik harbour on 15 January 1945 when a formation of thirteen strike Mosquitoes, one Tsetse and two 333 Squadron outriders, led by Wing Commander Maurice Guedj commanding 143 Squadron were despatched. The Mosquitoes destroyed two merchantmen and an armed trawler and left them burning and sinking before they were jumped by about thirty Fw 190s of III./JG 5. Five enemy fighters were shot down but five Mosquitoes, including the one piloted by ’Maury' Guedj, were also lost. (
via Andy Bird
)

On 17 March two ships lying in the inner harbour at Ålesund and fourmore just outside were repeatedly strafed by thirty-one FB.VIs of 235 Squadron after they had been led in overland south of the harbour by two Norwegian crews in 333 Squadron. Twelve Mustangs flew escort, flak was heavy and two aircraft were lost but the Mosquitoes fired their cannon and RPs to deadly effect, leaving three of the ships sinking and three others crippled. One ship was holed thirty-two times with 14 below the waterline and another thirty-seven times, 31 of them below the waterline. (
via Andy Bird
)

Ground crew loading rockets on to FB.VI PZ438 of 143 Squadron. (
Charles E. Brown
)

Group Captain Max Aitken DSO DFC points out a spot on a map of Norway. Far right is Wing Commander G.D. Sise DSO DFC, a New Zealander commanding 248 Squadron. Wing Commander R.A. Atkinson DSO DFC*, Australian CO 235 Squadron (KIA 13 December 1944) is to Aitken’s right. (
via G. A. B. Lord
)

‘…For those of us who flew the Mosquitoes the memory of their versatility and their achievements will always remain. It would be impossible to forget such an experience as the thunderous din of twenty aircraft sweeping across the hangars as low as possible, setting course like bullets in tight formation for the enemy coast. The whole station would be out watching and each leader would vie for the honour of bringing his formation lower across the aerodrome than anyone else. Nor would it be possible to forget the sensation of looking back over enemy territory and seeing your formation behind you, their racing shadows moving only a few feet below them across the earth’s surface; or that feeling of sudden exhilaration when the target was definitely located and the whole pack were following you on to it with their bomb doors open while people below scattered in every direction and the long streams of flak came swinging up; or the sudden jerk of consternation of the German soldiers lounging on the coast, their moment of indecision, and then their mad scramble for the guns; or the memory of racing across The Hague at midday on a bright spring morning, while the Dutchmen below hurled their hats in the air and beat each other over the back. All these are unforgettable memories. Many of them will be recalled also by the peoples of Europe long after peace has been declared, for to them the Mosquito came to be an ambassador during their darkest hours…’

Wing Commander John de Lacy Wooldridge
DSO
DFC* DFM,
author of
Low Attack

CHAPTER FIVE

Fast Night-Striking Force

Q
uite late on New Year’s Eve 1944, eighteen crews in 692, 571 and 128 Squadrons were called to a briefing for details of a raid starting at first light on New Year’s Day. At Oakington, five crews in 571 Squadron were briefed, as Flying Officer Douglas Tucker
DFC
, one of the pilots, recalls:

Until we were called to the briefing room, everything had been very hush-hush. No one seemed to know anything definite or even if there was to be a raid at all. Because of the secrecy preceding the flight I did not take Sergeant Bert Cook, my own navigator (who had already completed twenty-four trips with me). Instead I took Flight Sergeant Fred David. We all soon knew what was in front of us. The German Army was hard pressed bringing equipment and men to the fighting front, mainly by rail. It was reasoned that if this rail traffic could be delayed even for a day or two, the confusion this could cause would be quite substantial. There was little point in bombing railway tracks because even if the rails were hit it was a relatively short time before the craters were filled in and new track laid. It was decided that if it were possible to bomb twenty-four strategic tunnels at precisely the same time, it would be bound to cause considerable confusion and inconvenience at the very least. How to achieve this was the next problem. Even using the latest bombsights, it would have been impossible to bomb from normal height and get the result, which was so essential. To fly across enemy territory in daylight would have been hazardous, especially when the desired effect would not be achieved. The decision was made to use Mosquito bombers, which were very fast and could out-pace most fighters.

Most of our aircraft were equipped with drop tanks; these were two torpedo-shaped tanks, one on each wing; which gave us greatly increased range. Although the tanks could be jettisoned at the press of a button, we were told not to drop them unless an extra-speed emergency that required a few extra knots. Our particular model of Mosquito carried no armour plating or armament. This saving of weight gave us an increase of speed, so we relied on this to keep us out of trouble, combined with our usual operational height in excess of 25,000ft, which was twice as high as most of the heavy bombers flew to drop their bombs. What type of bomb would be needed? We normally carried the one 4,000lb HE bomb, shaped like an oversize dustbin. Because of the relatively thin casing, they exploded on impact. On this operation, we were to drop our bomb as low as it was possible for us to fly in, aiming for 50 to 100ft above ground level. A 4,000lb bomb with orthodox casing was selected and fitted with a 30second delay fuse. This would avert any possibility of us being blown apart by the blast. For some weeks, we had been practicing low-level bombing with small practice bombs. We were told that it was just a general exercise. In the event, this practice was of little use as the targets [in the Eifel and Ardennes area] were on a completely flat piece of ground and train tunnels are usually on the edge of hills, or hilly areas. To make a direct hit would require flying towards the mouth of the tunnel, dropping the bomb and hopefully pulling up at the last second to clear the hill.
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We had been flying low for some time before reaching the area of the tunnel, map reading frantically as the ground sped underneath us. We looked for landmarks such as railway lines, rivers, canals and villages etc. Suddenly, just ahead of us was the tunnel and just as quickly we had passed it. We were covering the ground at approximately 1 mile every 9 seconds. Two German soldiers had stopped their motorcycle and sidecar on a bend of a hill. One was astride the motorcycle and the other stood by his sidecar. It would have been difficult to have missed them, as they were less than 100ft away from me when I passed over them. They must have heard the roar of low flying aircraft and stopped just as I flew past. I throttled back, lowered the flaps slightly and turned to the left to complete a circle in the hope of locating the end of the tunnel again. After 360° we located the tunnel mouth. Now we would have to complete another circuit to make preparations for dropping the bomb. On the down leg I opened the bomb bay doors. This did nothing to improve the flying characteristics of the aircraft. At our normal bombing height of 5 miles this made little difference, except that it was more difficult to hold a steady course, but at ground level it was a different sensation altogether.

We came round for our third run towards the tunnel entrance. As we circled close to the hill we were suddenly confronted with a wood on a rise in the ground. Instinctively, I pushed both throttle controls forward hard and pulled the control column back equally hard. The aircraft continued towards the ground and the trees for what seemed a lifetime, until it wallowed, not flew, over the obstruction. Apart from shattering raw nerves, it also meant that we would have to do another circuit. So far we had met no opposition from either the air or the ground, but every second we spent in the locality increased the risk of attack. It would have been quite difficult for anyone to hit us, as we were in and out of trees and often below the top of the hill but there was always the chance that someone was just around the corner with a machine gun. It wasn’t until the fifth time that we were at the correct height, position, speed etc and at last I was able to press the bomb release button. I pulled the aircraft up just clear of the surrounding land, closed the bomb-bay doors and then decided to do one more circuit to have a look at the result of our efforts. As we headed back towards the tunnel entrance the bomb exploded with a cloud of smoke earth and bricks.

We had hit the target.
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Now our task was completed we realised that we had been in the area far too long. In actual time, the whole episode was only a matter of minutes, but whilst it was happening it seemed like an eternity. I decided to start back by flying at maximum speed in the general direction we had come-in, keeping fairly close to the ground. On our normal night-time raids we were given courses and heights and speed to fly at, both to and from the target and we were not allowed to deviate unless there was some exceptional reason. On this trip we were given a free hand on our return journey to decide what height and courses we should take depending on prevailing conditions based on weather, enemy opposition etc as long as we approached the English Coast within a certain corridor. Our route home took us back along the railway line from the tunnel we had bombed. Within a few minutes, we sighted a train steaming in the direction of the tunnel. They certainly would have a delay. We could take no action against the train, or anything else for that matter. We had dropped our one and only bomb and we carried no armaments except for our revolvers. I continued at low level. I didn’t want to risk climbing and thus reducing our speed considerably. I waited until we reached what appeared to be a quiet patch of country and started a shallow climb, maintaining as high a forward speed as possible. Luck was still with us. We did not see any opposition, although it was quite likely that a ground barrage had opened up on us after we had gone past, but we saw nothing and suffered no damage, we considered in this case ‘ignorance was bliss.’

Soon the North Sea was visible. So far we had been flying in the general direction of the East Coast. Now we could relax a little, we set course to cross the area allocated to us. As we approached England we discovered that a thick blanket of fog covered the land. There was no shortage of fuel but if we flew on to our base near Cambridge and then had to divert to another airfield there was a possibility of running low. A landing at Manston, an emergency airfield on the coast of Kent was the safest solution. The station was equipped with FIDO and if our reasoning was correct, it would be switched on in these conditions: it was. FIDO consisted of metal tubes similar to scaffolding drilled with many holes. This tubing was fixed to each side of the runway and petrol was pumped through the pipes at a rate of 1,000 gallons per minute and ignited. The whole system burned with a roar like a gigantic blowlamp. I had not seen FIDO in operation before and it proved to be a most amazing sight. It was just like looking down a giant map, which was covered by a sheet of cotton wool except for a square that had been cut out with scissors. The airfield was completely fog-free, with the sun shining on the runways. We landed without any problems and taxied to the far end of the runway, clear of the pipes. It was essential that the aircraft was not allowed to veer on landing. The heat was so intense that it could be felt through the cockpit windows with the plane in the middle of the runway.

On landing we contacted our squadron by phone to let them know we were back safely, then a visit to the mess for a hearty breakfast, the second that day. A further call to the squadron confirmed that all fog had cleared and with the aircraft refuelled, we took off and headed for Oakington. After debriefing I met Bert Cook, who was most upset to have missed the trip. He informed me that he would be flying that evening with another pilot. We were a small squadron with no surplus crews. He said that after the night’s trip he and I would be back together again. Neither of us particularly liked flying but we had built up a certain affinity and closeness that can only be produced by working under conditions such as we had during our 24 operational flights. Unfortunately, we were never to fly together again. Bert Cook and his temporary pilot were both killed that night in a crash landing coming back from the raid.

One bomb, dropped by B.XVI ML963 K-King, crewed by Flight Lieutenant Norman J. Griffiths and Flying Officer W.R. ‘Bill’ Ball, totally destroyed a tunnel at Bitburg. Bill Ball wrote:

At 100ft the ground simply raced beneath us like lightning. From the big railway junction, dead on ETA the tunnel came up in a flash and we could just not position ourselves in time. We undershot the target and went around again and this time ran up, dead in line, astonished that the ack-ack batteries had not yet been alerted. We rapidly reached the target, dropped the 4,000lb bomb and soared almost vertically to get away from the blast and when we had gained height, we looked back and saw a great column of brown-black smoke and sizeable debris rumbling upwards. A mixture of bricks and shattered masonry rising and falling and scattering wide. Norman and I agreed that it would be some time before trains ran again on that line.

During January-May 1945 LNSF Mosquitoes or Fast Night-Striking Force (FNSF), as it had become known at Bennett’s insistence, made almost 4,000 sorties over the dwindling Reich for the loss of fifty-seven ‘Mossies’ shot down or written off. The FNSF bombed Berlin on sixty-one consecutive nights. On 14/15 January eighty-three Mosquitoes raided Berlin.
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On 25 January 163 Squadron re-formed at Wyton on B.XXVs under the command of Wing Commander Broom
¹⁶⁰
who had instructions from Air Vice Marshal Bennett for 163 Squadron to become operational immediately. No.163 Squadron flew its first operation on the night of 28/29 January when four B.XXVs dropped Window at Mainz (a spoof raid for the attacks by 602 aircraft on Stuttgart).

On the night of 29/30 January fifty-nine Mosquitoes were despatched to Berlin and fifty reached and bombed the city without loss. Flying Officer Philip Back and 23-year-old Pilot Officer Derek Tom Newell Smith
DFC
in 692 Squadron flew their fortieth op, with their second operation to the ‘Big City’ in 48 hours, in K-King. Derek Smith had flown a first tour as a sergeant navigator on Lancasters on 61 Squadron. He recalls:

We returned to be greeted by the news that FIDO at Graveley was u/s and we were diverted to Bradwell Bay. Bradwell closed in and Coltishall advised that we should ‘Get down where you can’, which we did at Hethel, a USAF base [home to the 389th Bomb Group and B-24 Liberators] near Norwich. We were treated with the usual American hospitality but memory of the operational meal remains in both our minds: it was roast pork with gooseberry jam! Next morning our T-Tommy came up with a very bad mag drop so we were taken by jeep to Philip’s home at Brundall for lunch and the weather closed in so we stayed the night. Next morning Philip’s father took us by car to Norwich where we were picked up by American transport for a run-up of the now serviceable T-Tommy but we were at Hethel for another night due to continuing bad weather. On 1 February we woke to a sunny morning and after a good breakfast at Hethel, we were back at Graveley by 09.40 to find ourselves on the Battle Order for Berlin that night. Because of the problems at Hethel, T-Tommy had to be checked so we were in K-King, Burbidge and Ramage’s aircraft, which had an indifferent reputation put about by them, I suspect, to keep it out of other hands!

The trip was fairly routine until we lost an engine near Hanover and again the weather was u/s with low cloud and snowstorms over East Anglia and the 8 Group area, so once more it was a matter of getting down where we could. The Mossie flew very well on one engine but it could be tricky to land especially at night and in the poor weather conditions, so we proceeded with care losing height gradually knowing we were over East Anglia. Eventually we saw a rocket come up through the low cloud and, losing more height, spotted a runway [Rougham near Bury St. Edmunds and home to the 94th Bomb Group] very well illuminated by wartime standards. Phil was quickly into the approach only to find a Fortress being landed; hence all the illumination. However, short of fuel, on one engine and in a snowstorm it was no place for the faint hearted. So Phil went in over the Fortress with rather too much height and speed so that we hit the runway past halfway but with hardly a bump. We shot off the end over a wide grassed area and ditch, to be brought to a halt at the perimeter by a row a tree stumps, one of which impacted with the starboard wing and slewed us around by 90°. Apart from two small cuts on my forehead neither of us were hurt. So we were very smartly out and taking off at speed in case of fire, only to be halted by the sound of voices behind us. We returned to find the aircraft was across a road with an Armstrong Siddeley car between the port engine and drop tank. We found four very lucky occupants, badly shocked but not too badly hurt, although one did need hospital treatment for a head wound requiring forty stitches. Then, almost immediately, we found ourselves surrounded by GIs brandishing rifles as they thought us to be a Messerschmitt 410 intruder. On this occasion we did not receive the usual American hospitality probably due to our unannounced arrival and were left to make our own way back to Cambridge by train to await being picked up by car. Of course we were lugging our flying gear and received some odd glances from other passengers. However, we made our way to the University Air Squadron and were lavished with their hospitality. Of course, we were not very popular with Burbidge and Ramage but everyone was pleased to see us in one piece, especially the Wing CO who put us in the Battle Order for the next two nights! However, they were Wiesbaden and Dortmund, rather easier than the six to Berlin up to that ending up at Rougham. This latter Philip described as being due to the bad judgement of a single engine approach. Many Mossie aircrew did not survive to tell the tale of single-engine landings. So in my view, as the only witness, to land from a steep approach at night in a snowstorm and to be able to walk away was a small miracle aided by airmanship of the highest order.
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