Authors: Martin Bowman
Tags: #Bisac Code 1: HIS027140
Dudley Hemmings concludes:
Safely back at Lasham after 3 hours in the air; a debriefing, some discussion of the other Sections’ experiences (two aircraft failed to return); a beer at ‘The Swan’ in Alton nearby clouding the knowledge that tomorrow was another day, another ‘op’. As to whose bombs hit the barracks or went astray I do not know. It is best not to know as a number of Dutch civilians were killed during the raid. For navigator and pilot on such missions it was purely a test of one’s navigational and flying skills, a hope of survival under fire, a task completed as ordered and a mental isolation from the outcome on the ground. When my CO told me my operational tour was completed and to take Rest Leave Wellings said to me that the CO had told him the same. While he insisted I go, Wellings stated that he would ask to stay on because he wanted to ‘see out the war’. Sadly, when I was on leave he took a new navigator and went missing on 9 October 1944.
On 18 September the Germans counter-attacked and forestalled an American attempt to capture the bridge at Nijmegen. Market Garden has been described in an official report as ‘by far the biggest and most ambitious airborne operation ever carried out by any nation or nations.’
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Altogether, nine Mosquito bomber squadrons now equipped 2nd TAF. In September 1944, following the outbreak from the Normandy beachhead, plans were in progress to move them to airfields in France. As part of the newfound offensive, Mosquito squadrons outside 2nd TAF also made daylight Rangers from France and intruder sorties over the Continent. Late in October another daring low-level raid, this time on Aarhus University, the HQ for the
Gestapo
in the whole of Jutland, Denmark, was ordered. The University consisted of four or five buildings just next to an autobahn, which ran 10 miles in a straight line up to the buildings. In College No.4 was also the HQ of the
Sickerkeitsdienst des Reicksführers Schutzstaffeln
or SD, the police service of the Nazi party. The precision attack was scheduled for 31 October by twenty-five FB.VIs of 21, 464 and 487 Squadrons each carrying 11-second delayed action bombs. Included in the Mosquito formation, which was led by Wing Commander ‘Reggie’ W. Reynolds
DSO
*
DFC
and Squadron Leader Ted Sismore
DSO DFC
, was AVM Basil Embry and his navigator, Peter Clapham. On 30 October the crews at Thorney Island had no idea what their target was, as Les Webb, Ern ‘Dunks’ Dunkley’s navigator in 464 Squadron, explains:
The Flight Commanders were called in by the CO, Group Captain Peter Wykeham-Barnes,
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who would lead the third wave. ‘Dunks’, an Australian, was one of the Flight Commanders. They were told that we were going on a special raid and he wanted each flight commander to pick six crews, see that their planes were all right, tell them to carry an overnight bag and they’d get instructions to go off tomorrow. Nobody knew where. The crews were to fly to Swanton Morley in Norfolk. The advantages of doing it from Swanton Morley were two-fold. One was that it was nearer to the coast but the other one was the that it was a Mosquito training area so if anybody was looking they were used to seeing Mossies in that area.
Humphrey-Baker in 487 Squadron who was navigator for pilot Wing Commander ‘Peter’ Thomas adds:
On 31 October we took off from Thorney Island at 7 am, landing at Swanton Morley to refuel and to link up with aircraft from 21 Squadron.
Les Webb continues:
We all flew up singly and landed at Swanton Morley. After we landed we were told that we were now under guard. We couldn’t go out, we couldn’t make telephone calls and there would be an early dinner. The food at Swanton Morley was out of this world; it was absolutely superb. Immediately after dinner a little Dane who had been parachuted into Denmark and who then got all the information before coming out by submarine, briefed us. His information enabled a large model to be constructed showing all the surrounding area and even the colours of the roofs. It was an incredible model.
Escort was provided by eight Mustang IIIs of 315 (Polish) Squadron, 12 Group, which flew to Swanton Morley from their base at Andrews Field in Essex, led by the CO, Squadron Leader Tadeusz Andersz and rendezvoused with the Mosquitoes over the North Sea. Humphrey-Baker in 487 Squadron takes up the story:
We were carrying wing tanks, which would be abandoned, over the North Sea. It was rather alarming to see these grey torpedo-like shapes whipping by in close proximity. As we approached the target already shrouded in smoke, I could see that the right-hand building, which we had to attack, had the centre section completely destroyed while the two end sections were still standing. As we crossed the target I felt the aircraft being hit on the starboard side. Soon afterwards Peter Wykeham Barnes called Peter to feather the starboard prop, as the engine was on fire. Once we were on one engine we headed for ‘Sally’, our code name for Sweden. I read later that we had been hit by debris from an exploding bomb; despite the fact that they all had delayed-action fuses to allow each box of six aircraft to pass without risk. We crossed the Kattegat and reached the coast without further incident and upon finding a suitable field, Peter brought the aircraft down for a very efficient wheels-up landing. Once the shaking had ceased it was very quiet. Peter placed the firebomb in the navigator’s bag and the plane was soon in flames and we took off up a hill towards some trees.
With surprising speed a squad of grey-clad soldiers arrived with an antiquated fire engine in tow. They waved guns at us and we thought it advisable to stop. We were rather amused at their efforts to quell the flames, as the weak jet from their machine would not reach the aircraft. They soon made it clear that their concern was to know if there was anybody else in the aircraft or if there were still bombs aboard. We were taken to a neighbouring farmer whose wife prepared an excellent meal at short notice. We were then taken to Gothenburg and placed in a large room at the top of a tall hotel. The room was equipped with a telephone directory and from this we were surprised to learn that there was in fact a British Consulate in the town and we resolved that we would try to reach it if the opportunity presented itself.
Les Webb, ‘Dunks’ Dunkley’s navigator continues:
‘Daisy’ Sismore was leading. As we crossed the coast there was a small village a few miles inland and as we flew across, he flew straight over the village and went on. The other three formations did a circuit and then the next one peeled off. We were the last ones in. We orbited until it was our turn. In a field below were a couple of farm horses with a plough that seemed to be on their own. By the time we had done three circuits, everybody realised that we were RAF aircraft and they were waving and cheering in the streets. The interesting thing was that a farmer dressed in blue dungarees and blue hat who must have ducked down between the two horse stood up and held the horse’s heads at the salute as we went past. I thought that was superb.
We went in, in formation, echelon starboard. We turned and saw the building. The problem now was we had broken up into pairs, whether intentionally or not and we were flying Number 2 at that point because Bedford, Bill Langton’s [the CO, Wing Commander A.W. Langton
DFC
] navigator had called that he had handed over to somebody else. Clayton had gone up to No.1 and Dunk and I were flying No.2. By the time we got to the target we were flying with Clayton, coming in together. We were slightly starboard. The smoke from the site, unluckily, was blowing towards us and as we entered the smoke it was pretty obvious that the left-hand building was more damaged than the right-hand building. Clayton saw it before we did because he was slightly ahead of us. In all his glory he made a smart turn onto the target, which left ‘Dunks’ with absolutely nowhere to go. ‘Dunks’ did a brilliant bit of flying. He just went oomph, oomph and we went under Clayton, across and then swung round. We were at nought feet and two people on the main road to Aarhus dived into the gutter! We still had time to drop our bombs on the target, then off and away. We formed into formation again before we got to the coast and went out over the North Sea again. The Mustangs were still with us and later they went off and left us. We came straight home to Thorney. On the way home ‘Dunks’ lost track of the CO and called over the radio, “Has anyone seen the old man?” He came back saying, “We are not home yet, shut up!” The whole flight took 4 hours 45 minutes.
Inside one of the college buildings, 40 year-old Pastor Harald Sandbäk, arrested on 11 September on suspicion of complicity in acts of sabotage, was about to have his final interrogation. Sandbäk had helped distribute illegal publications in Jutland and in 1942 had become involved in the reception of arms dropped by the RAF before he assumed the leadership of a small group of saboteurs. The longest interrogation he endured was 39 hours without any rest, after days of whipping and tightening of string around his handcuffs. Sandbäk recalled:
I was taken to an office where Schwitzgiebel the
Gestapo
Chief in Jutland and his deputy Werner were and they told me that this would be my last chance to tell the truth. I declared that I had no more to say, after which those devils handed me over to the torturers. They half dragged and half carted me up to the attic of the college, took off all my clothes and put on new handcuffs. To these a string was attached which would be tightened and caused insufferable pain. I was thrown on a bed and whipped with a leather dog whip. I was then taken down to the office again for further interrogation by Werner and his two assistants. Suddenly we heard a whine of the first bombs, while the planes thundered across the university. Werner’s face was as pale as death from fright and he and his assistants ran out of the room. I saw them disappear down a passage to the right and instinctively I went to the left. This saved my life because shortly afterwards the whole building collapsed and Werner and his assistants were killed. I was later rescued by Danish patriots.
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The operation was carried out at such a low altitude that Squadron Leader F.H. Denton of 487 Squadron hit the roof of the building, losing his tail wheel and the port half of the tail plane. The New Zealander nursed the Mosquito across the North Sea and managed to land safely. The university and its incriminating records were destroyed. Among the 110-175 Germans killed in the raid was
Kriminalrat Schwitzgiebel,
head of the
Gestapo
in Jutland and SS
Oberstumführer
Lonechun, Head of the Security Services.
Later that evening in Gothenburg, a young officer, who informed them that he was a schoolmaster doing his period of compulsory service, collected Wing Commander ‘Peter’ Thomas and Humphrey-Baker. Humphrey-Baker recalls:
He was to escort us to Falun where we would be detained for an indefinite period. He was very pleasant and we all got on very well. He escorted us to the railway station and while he was busy getting our tickets, we took off at speed into the night. After the brilliant lights of the station the square outside looked very black. It was raining and the macadam glistened in the light of the high-street lamps. We raced across the empty space, Peter was to my left and we had not gone far when he took a flying leap over a low parapet and disappeared; a second later I heard a loud splash. I thought that this was in keeping with Peter’s somewhat flamboyant style. Peter was blond and handsome and played the role of an RAF Wing Commander excellently. His wife was equally glamorous.
Within a few seconds of our escape I was on my own. I ran on for a few yards to a bridge. I ran across and doubled back on the other side of the canal. I called out to the soggy Peter to see if he was OK or if he needed help. He told me to carry on, which I had every intention of doing, as I could dimly see people appearing on the other side of the canal. I ran on and followed the road round to the right. I continued until I came to a junction and turned right and soon came upon a woman about to enter her home. I asked her in what I fondly thought was a mixture of German and Swedish where the British Consulate was. She replied in English, “Why should I help you?” which was not surprising, as I must have been somewhat bedraggled and hatless. I mumbled that I was in a hurry and wet. She replied that it was only a few doors further on. So to my intense surprise and relief I had located it in what seemed to be a very short time. I really do not think I could have run more than 1 km. The Consul’s son opened the door and I was taken in. It was a remarkable stroke of luck to get there so quickly and at night. Soon afterwards with Schnapps in hand we saw a guard being posted at the gate. The Consul had no option but to return me and a few Schnapps later I arrived at the Police station in the company of the Consul and his son to find a somewhat disconsolate Peter Thomas sitting wrapped in a blanket.
We had wrongly thought that if we could reach the Consulate we could be repatriated. This of course would only have happened if we had escaped from occupied Europe, but did not apply to anyone stupid enough to escape from the hospitable hands of the Swedes. We were handed back to our chagrined guard who could not understand why we should have wanted to run away from him. We were escorted back to the station by the Consul, placed on a train and locked into a very comfortable sleeping compartment. On arrival at Falun we had to go before a local doctor for an FFI [French Force of the Interior] inspection. I was somewhat alarmed at his vigorous approach and was relieved to depart still entire, although I was also amused at the wooden trumpet with which he tuned in to my heart. Every possible thing in Sweden seemed to be made of wood. I watched local businessmen stoking up the boilers mounted on the back of their Volvos to generate the producer gas, which powered their vehicles. In thick overcoats and wearing gloves they would shove wood into the little furnace and then slowly drive away. We were lodged in a pension at Korsnas run by Miss Sundberg, a very nice old lady. There were about sixteen of us, mostly Australians I think, including the crew of a Lancaster that had been damaged on the final successful attack on the
Tirpitz.
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The numbers dwindled rapidly as the rate of repatriation had increased following an influx of German soldiers from Finland. There was also a large camp of about 600 Americans nearby. Peter Thomas who had to go to Malmo to move a Mosquito said that there were over 100 serviceable American aircraft at the Lingschoping airfield where they would arrive in droves.