Mosquito: Menacing the Reich: Combat Action in the Twin-engine Wooden Wonder of World War II (12 page)

We took off from Dyce on our 25th trip, at 07.46, climbed to 8,000ft and with a comfortable tail wind of 35 knots, 55 minutes later we landed at Scatsta in North Shetland in order to top-up with fuel. In the air again at 09.40, we set course for Norway. On switching from inner to outer tanks, we soon found that one of the 97-gallon drop tanks was not feeding, leaving 763 gallons for a flight of 1,600 miles over the sea. There would be little margin. We climbed to 25,000ft, first saw rocks at 11.30 and then followed the coast north, searching every fjord. We were over Bødo at 11.52 and at 12.30 we saw the
Tirpitz
, 3¾ miles to the west of Tromsø, 215 miles inside the Arctic Circle. By this time we had come down to 15,000ft due to cloud and we made one photographic run over the ship at 15,000ft. There was some firing from the
Tirpitz
and the ground, but it was not accurate. We left for home immediately and on the return journey, heading into wind, Sandy was again intent on nursing the engines for maximum performance from minimum fuel consumption.

Sandy Powell had put the Mosquito into a medium turn to port while climbing away from the target, settling down on a westerly heading out over the sea with the Lofotens to port. When Townshend had finally settled back into his seat beside him Powell suggested that they should now make some decisions on future actions. It was agreed that the fuel left in the tanks severely limited flying time. There was a suggestion that they try for Sweden. But after discussing the options they decided to ‘go for home’. Besides, Powell was sure that if his wife got to hear that they were living it up somewhere in Scandinavia with her and their new daughter languishing in food rationed Britain, he would probably never hear the last of it.

Townshend continues:
Wind lanes and ‘white horses’ on the sea indicated that the wind had changed little and at 13.55 I tried to get a long-range fix. The position given was ignored as it was well to the west of our course and it probably came from a German station in Norway. At 14.23 a QTE Sumburgh 03.20 confirmed we were on course. At 15.58 the white capped waves breaking around the outlying promontories and rocks north-east of Shetland could be seen. Eighteen minutes later two tired crew landed at Scatsta with 15 minutes’ fuel left in the tanks. Sandy went to the control tower to telephone the intelligence officer at Dyce who had briefed them that morning. Using a scrambled line he said, ‘Named Target spot on! Operation D.C.O! [Duty Carried Out] Return to base shortly.’ We were back at Dyce in good time for dinner at 18.00 after 2,150 miles in an overall 8 hours 35 minutes flying. We went into Aberdeen that night for a drink to celebrate.

Even though the Mosquito completed this remarkable flight at reduced speed they had still managed to average almost 245 mph. Their outstanding feat earned Powell a DFC and Townshend the DFM. Teamwork, once again, had played a huge part in the success of these operations and twenty-five more together would follow. Sandy Powell recalls:

Joe Townshend’s phlegmatic attitude to enemy belligerence, coupled with a keen intelligence and outstanding navigational abilities, was the driving force that enabled us to survive over fifty sorties. Imagine being in an aircraft, at 20-30,000ft centered in an open sky, in daylight, hundreds of miles inside enemy territory. You are aware of being fully exposed and know you’ve been detected by enemy radar since you crossed the coast and every mile since then. Around you, an implacable enemy watches, waits and could at any moment, range its mighty forces against you. You think of several targets you’ve been briefed to photograph and those leagues of hostile country that need to be traversed in order to carry out your mission. Then how long you must spend in hostile space before getting back home. If you can truly imagine all this, then you become aware of what it is like to feel truly lonely. Someone once said, ‘PRU was the loneliest job in the world. There are rewards, however, when you return over the shores of the UK. Adrenaline charges through your being and you become a giant, ten feet tall.’
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Meanwhile, in addition to the detachment at Yagodnik, in the USSR covering the 5 Group operations against the
Tirpitz
a 540 Squadron detachment had also been established at Gibraltar in September in preparation for a survey of the Canary Islands. Further trips to the USSR commenced on 9 October with courier flights for Operation Frugal. No.544 Squadron’s Mosquitoes transited to the Soviet Union, via Memel to Ramenskoye for eventual operations over eastern Germany and Poland. These flights lasted 6 hours and when Moscow (Vnukovo) was used they became 4 hour 30 minute trips for the crews involved. Others were flown to Yalta, via San Severn in Italy and Saki in the Crimea or via Malta and Cairo. In December some Mosquitoes were stripped of their cameras and used to carry diplomatic mail to Hassani, in Greece. This run, which was known as Operation Haycock was extended to Italy and Egypt in connection with the Cairo Conference. The PR Mosquitoes performed a similar service during the Potsdam Conference.

In October Flight Lieutenant Ronald Foster
RNZAF
and Frank Moseley (both of whom were awarded the DFC and French
Croix de Guerre
) were transferred to courier missions. They flew from Benson to Moscow in 4 hours 45 minutes, creating a new speed record for a flight from England to the Russian capital. In the courier bag were dispatches for Prime Minister Winston Churchill and a copy of the morning issue of the London Times. Foster adds:

Mr Churchill was very pleased to get the newspaper but he was even more pleased that the Russians were impressed by the Mosquito’s speed. Later I realised why we had been given an older version of the aircraft for the trip and why it had been stripped of all sensitive equipment. Soon after at Benson we were told that the Russians had completely disassembled it, photographed every part and put it back together in time for our return trip. They were none the wiser for their trouble. We were told on no account to allow the aircraft to fall into German or Russian hands and they meant it. We carried a bomb from which two wires were connected to a button on the instrument panel. In the event of capture we were told to press the button. The rest was left to the imagination. I don’t know if I would have pressed that button. I never regretted flying Mosquitoes. You were left to use your own initiative and it was quality flying time. The down side was losing so many of my friends. The strength of our Mosquito squadron was supposed to be twenty two-man crews. We never reached that on 544 Squadron. I would meet people for a meal in the Mess and never see them again. During my 18 months on the Squadron twenty-six aircrew were missing or killed in action. Ridding the world of Hitler’s Nazis was a worthy end but the price paid for a small country like New Zealand was high.

Late in 1944 Flight Sergeant Frank ‘Ginger’ Baylis crewed up with Flight Lieutenant O.M. ‘Danny’ Daniels on 54(M) PR Course at 8 PR OTU at Dyce. Baylis recalls:

Danny was a gritty Canadian from Windsor, Ontario. A skilful pilot, you might say he was a born flyer. Good job. His ability was tested to the utmost on 5 December 1944 when we did a sortie from Dyce to Norway in a ‘brand new’ PR.XVI. We lost our hydraulic fluid on the starboard prop and suffered an overspeeding engine at 28,000ft about 30 miles north of Bergen. We operated the Graviner, which put the fire out. Then the engine broke up and the resulting 12-inch diameter ‘circle’ stuck on the leading edge of the starboard wing rendered our aircraft quite unable to remain airworthy. By the time I was ready to bale out we were down to 7,000ft and Danny said he thought he could hold her before we reached the briny and would I like to stay? Not half. A dip in Norwegian coastal waters in mid-December did not appeal, so I returned to my seat. With both feet holding the rudder-bar at its fullest extension, Danny wrestled NS696 all the way back to Sumburgh, where he managed a good single-engined landing. Much relief all round. Danny had flown l hour 20 minutes at about 140 mph; just above stalling speed.
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On 23 December, 544 Squadron’s Frank Dodd and Eric Hill experienced an eventful sortie, to Magdeburg, in PR.32 NS587.

Magdeburg,  I can never hear the name without a shudder,  was the start of another little ‘tiswas’. We had the distrusted first XXXII; a very high flyer, but unreliable.
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This time, we had ‘done’ a few targets plus the oilworks when suddenly a horrifying mixture of impedimenta poured out of the starboard engine, which Frank hastily feathered. Now being over the Third Reich two days before Christmas 1944 with a crippled, unarmed Mossie at 41,000ft making a huge, persistent contrail in a completely cloudless sky was decidedly suggesting a desire to end it all. I knocked out a course for the nearest bit of the North Sea, Frank went into a fastish dive and I was kneeling on the seat as usual looking anxiously backwards. In due course, somewhere near Emden, I reported, ‘Fighter, my side, above, closing fast. (The word ‘reported’ distinctly fails to do justice to that sweaty, scary moment. ‘Yelled frantically’ might suit.) We knew that, provided you saw a fighter early enough and had a decent Mossie (they varied like cars), you could get away eventually by maintaining straight and level top speed. This despite the fact that the Fw 190 especially was far better in the climb, the dive and the turn and short speed-bursts than we were. We knew, too, that if you managed to lose a fighter once, the sky is a big enough space to give you a good chance of getting away. Once though, we found one hiding in our hated contrail, but managed to find a bit of cloud in time.

My world turned upside down. Frank flung that kite into a vertical dive, which clearly took the Fw 190 by surprise, as when I was able to examine his bit of sky again, he was diving disgustedly, earthwards. My joy at losing him soon evaporated. Frank’s dive had started up the u/s engine, which now screamed and howled and shook the kite as if it was just going to depart and leave us in bits. Frank pulled her up into a near stall, rapidly pushed the feathering button and like me, I reckon, prayed. It worked, the engine stopped. We found a nice quiet bit of German coast and in a fast dive, worked our way home. The weather in England was poor, but when out of range of the German jammers, I was able to use the Gee set to get us right into dear old Benson on a brilliant system worked out by Flight Lieutenant Don ‘Lofty’ South. (He taught us how to tell pilots not only what course to steer, but when to change pitch, put down wheels and flaps and when to hold off. Lofty, a huge chap with a fine brain, was a London policeman. He sadly bought it in company with another great chap, Flight Lieutenant Doug ‘Adco’ Adcock, when they were trying to photograph a hotly defended rocket site at ground level.)
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Hearing that we were coming back on one engine, half of Benson, all the aircrew, all the blood wagons and fire engines turned out to watch the fun. A perfect three-pointer on one engine was vintage Dodd.

Of course, like every PR Crew, especially when we were privileged to fly diplomatic mail to the ‘Big Three’ Conferences at Moscow, Athens, Yalta and Potsdam, there were plenty of other incidents to remember. (These included the three fighters near Moscow, who dropped a convincing pattern of tracer just in front of us, in order to dissuade us from having a look at the City Airport). And luck for which to be grateful. After all, I had the best luck of all. I had Frank Dodd as a pilot, whose brilliant airmanship, calm appreciations and simple courage got us through. Flying solitary sorties over heavily defended enemy territory in unarmed wooden aircraft I suppose needed special qualities. Perhaps many other navigators will say the same of their pilots and I hope that many who have forgotten the part PRU played in the victory, will perhaps pause and reconsider.’
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CHAPTER THREE

Finders, Markers and Light Night-Strikers

O
riginally formed from 3 Group, using volunteer crews, 8 Group had started as a specialist Pathfinder Force (PFF) on 15 August 1942 under the direction of Group Captain D.C.T. ‘Don’ Bennett and was headquartered at Wyton. On 13 January 1943 the PFF became 8 (PFF) Group and ‘Don’ Bennett was promoted Air Commodore (later Air Vice Marshal) to command it. The tough talking Australian ex-Imperial Airways and Atlantic Ferry pilot wanted Mosquitoes for PFF and target-marking duties. No.105 Squadron’s few B.IX bombers, which were modified B.IVs with Oboe radar, which no one wanted, helped him achieve his objective.
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Gee-H (from 1944, H
2
S)-equipped B.IXs of 139 Squadron and Oboe II-equipped B.IXs of 105 Squadron spearheaded the Main Force bombing raids. Oboe had first been used on 20 December 1942. No. 139 Squadron went in with the target-marking Mosquitoes of 105 Squadron, sowing bundles of the thin metal strips called ‘Window’, which produced a ‘clutter’ of blips on German radar screens to give the impression of a large bomber force. They made diversionary attacks called Spoofs on other targets to attract enemy night fighters anything up to 50 miles away from the Main Force during the attack. Bennett’s Mosquitoes were to prove so successful that ultimately, eleven Mosquito-equipped squadrons operated in 8 (PFF) Group (the other eight squadrons being equipped with Lancasters). In addition, 1409 (Met) Flight was established at Oakington on 1 April 1943 using Mosquitoes and crews from 521 Squadron, Coastal Command at Bircham Newton.

‘Nuisance’ raiding had begun in April 1943 and was so successful that by the summer a Light Night-Striking Force (LNSF) of Mosquitoes was established. Mosquitoes went in up to an hour before the main attack, descended slowly and released their Spoof cargoes of two 500lb bombs, two target indicators (TIs) or ‘sky markers’ (parachute flares to mark a spot in the sky if it was cloudy)
⁹²
and bundles of Window. German fighter controllers sent up their night fighters, so that when the ‘heavies’ did arrive, the
Nachtjagdgeschwaders
were on the ground having to refuel. No.139 Squadron first tried Spoof raiding on the night of 18 November 1943 when flares and bombs were dropped on Frankfurt. Various plain colours with starbursts of the same or a different colour prevented the enemy from copying them. On 26 November three Mosquitoes of 139 Squadron, flying ahead of the Main Force, scattered Window on the approaches to Berlin and returned to drop bombs.

After having converted to the Mosquito at 1655 MTU at Marham, Flight Lieutenant Jack Richard ‘Benny’ Goodman
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and his navigator, Flying Officer Arthur John Linzee ‘Bill’ Hickox (after ‘Wild Bill Hickok’ of American West fame) were posted in October 1943 to 139 Squadron at Wyton. Benny Goodman had completed a tour of thirty-seven operations and 1,300 hours on Wellingtons. Bill Hickox had also completed a first tour on Wimpys, although he had been shot down and had to walk back through the desert. Their first operational sortie in a Mosquito took place on 3 November 1943, the target being Cologne. Benny Goodman recalls:

Marking was to be done by 105 and 109 Squadrons, using Oboe. Our bomb load was four 500lb HE bombs and the attack was to be an all-Mosquito affair. Out first operational take-off in DK313 was only marginally longer than out take-offs from Marham in Mosquitoes without bombs. The acceleration was rapid and in next to no time we were at the unstick speed of around 100 knots and climbing smoothly away. We climbed rapidly to 28,000ft, levelled out and settled down to an economical cruising speed of around 250 knots (true airspeed). As we neared Cologne the first of the Oboe-aimed target indicators began to cascade down ahead of us. Bill took his place at the bombing panel and began the time honoured verbal directions: ‘Left, left, Steady...’ and ultimately, ‘Bombs gone.’ We then turned for home, more bacon and eggs and bed. The post-flight interrogation was much the same as on any operational squadron in Bomber Command, with one important exception. 139’s full title was 139 (Jamaica) Squadron and we were all offered a tot of rum on return from every operational sortie  the rum being provided by the good people of Jamaica. When I was on 139 we had with us a Jamaican named Ulric Cross, a flight lieutenant navigator, highly efficient and well liked. Later he became Lord Chief Justice of Jamaica.

The best Oboe crews could place a bomb within a few yards of the aiming point from 28,000ft. However, since they had to fly straight and level for several minutes in the final run to the target they were vulnerable to flak and fighters. Moreover, they could only approach a given target from two directions; in the case of Ruhr targets, almost due north or south. The Germans quickly realized this and set up searchlight cones over the aiming point which they plastered with heavy flak. Another little trick was to position Ju 88s near the searchlight cones, at a higher level than the Mosquitoes. Thus, when coned, a Mosquito might first be blasted with heavy flak and then the barrage could suddenly cease. If the pilot wasn’t in a position to react instantly, the next happening would be a highly unpleasant squirt of cannon fire from the night-fighter. The average time for a trip to the Ruhr was 2½ hours, while a run to Berlin took about 4½ hours. To carry out such sorties in a Wellington had taken something like 5½ hours and 8 hours respectively. For this reason alone, Mosquitoes were greatly to he preferred to Wellingtons, it is better to be shot at for a short time than for a long time!

At Wyton on 24 November 1943 ‘C’ Flight in 139 Squadron and its B.IVs were used as the nucleus to form 627 Squadron at Oakington near Cambridge. Benny Goodman and Bill Hickox were among the crews posted to the new squadron as Bill Hickox recalls:

We went down to the flights after breakfast as usual. We were called in by the Flight Commander and told to go back and pack our bags, as we were to take an aircraft [DZ615] to Oakington, where we were posted to a new squadron being formed; 627. We duly arrived at Oakington, where we were told that we would be operating that same night. So without having time to unpack our bags, or go through the normal arrival procedures, we went to briefing, where we learned that we would be operating to Berlin along with two other crews. This was only my second trip to the ‘Big City’, but everything went well.

Benny Goodman adds:

It was a rule in Bomber Command that every new squadron became operational as soon as possible after it was formed and when we arrived, Bill and I found out that we were on the Battle Order for that night. The resident squadron at Oakington was No.7, a Lancaster squadron of the PFF force and on the day of 627’s arrival, the station was a hive of industry. A Bomber Command maximum effort was in preparation and Lancasters were being made ready for ops that night. To the Oakington effort would now be added six Mosquitoes of 627 Squadron. As the day wore on it became apparent from reports from the Station met office that operations that night had become questionable; a warm front was spreading in from the south-west more quickly that had been expected. At tea time the Lancasters were stood down, but 627 remained on standby and after tea we were briefed for an all-Mosquito attack on Berlin in company with 139 Squadron. Early that evening Bill and I boarded DZ615 and set off for the ‘Big City’, a trip which turned out to be completely uneventful except that on returning to the airfield we were flying in thick cloud and pouring rain. We broke cloud at 500ft, still in heavy rain and approached and landed very carefully. On reporting to the Operations Room for debriefing, we were astounded to be told that DZ615 had been the only RAF aircraft over Germany that night. Ops had been cancelled by Bomber Command at a very late stage but two of us were already airborne and were left to get on with it. The other pilot had trouble with his aircraft and turned back, which left me on my own.

Bill Hickox has no doubts, as to what gave 627 its
Esprit de corps

It seems to me that 627 had it from the very start. Mind you, we had everything in our favour. We were flying the finest aeroplane in the world (Ah, de Havilland) and lived in comfort in the pre-war messes of a permanent station near the beautiful city of Cambridge. Cambridge provided good entertainment for nights off, ‘The Bun Shop’, ‘The Baron of Beef’ and even ‘Dorothy’s Tea Rooms’ being particularly memorable. Our CO, Roy Elliott, was the finest squadron commander I ever knew in a long RAF career.
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His Navigation Leader, William M. ‘Bill’ de Boos
DFC
, was a splendid Aussie character and even the Adjutant was a good type, as were all the other air and ground crews. We were a small, close knit community, proud of being members of PFF and of being part of the Light Night-Striking Force operating practically every night, even when the Main Force were stood down. We didn’t even mind being known as the ‘Model Aeroplane Club’. On the rare occasions on which we were stood down, it was great to pile into the Hillman flight vans and blunder through the blackout until we came to the bank of a river. There we would pull ourselves across on a chain ferry to a delightful pub called the ‘Pike and Eel’. How was it that it was always the Aussies who fell in on the return crossing?

Benny Goodman continues.

The winter of 1943-44 was famous, or infamous, depending on your point of view, because it saw the Bomber Command offensive against Berlin. Our C-in-C said that if we could lay waste the Big City the Germans would be brought to their knees.
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Sixteen major attacks were mounted but Berlin was not destroyed. The truth is that the target area was too vast and the weather, which could often be worse than enemy action, was appalling. Bill Hickox and I took part in seven of these attacks against the German capital and also busied ourselves with spoof raids against other targets, for example Kiel and Leipzig. We knew only too well that we were engaged in a battle of attrition, as was the US 8th Air Force and the outcome could be defeat for the bombers.

During the Battle of Berlin we lost Squadron Leader ‘Dinger’ Bell, our Flight Commander. However, he and his navigator managed to bale out and became PoWs.
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At this time, Bill and I began to wonder if the sands were also running out for us when, on the way home from the Big City, the oil pressure on the starboard engine suddenly began to drop and the oil and coolant temperatures increased. Eventually the readings reached their permitted limits and I throttled back the engine and feathered the propeller. Now we were in the cart with a vengeance, for we had to lose height and were eventually flying along at a height and speed comparable to that of our heavy brothers, but with no means of defending ourselves if attacked. Moreover, since the only generator on the Mosquito was on the starboard engine we had to turn off our internal lights, the Gee box and our VHF set. So we drove on through the darkness with our fingers and toes slightly crossed and feeling very tense. Wouldn’t you?

Eventually our ETA at the Dutch coast came and Bill switched on the Gee. We were in luck. It worked and Bill quickly plotted a fix. So far, so good. Next we turned the Gee box off and I called up the VHF guardian angels on Channel ‘C’ – the distress frequency. At once there came that voice of reassurance, asking me to transmit for a little longer. She then gave us a course to steer and shortly afterwards said, ‘Friends are with you.’ Bill and I took a good look round and spied a Beaufighter, which stayed with us until we reached the English coast. We motored on eventually and got down fairly expertly which drew from the imperturbable Mr Hickox the comment, ‘Good Show’. Praise indeed.

Shortly after this effort came another indication that Lady Luck was on our side. We were briefed for yet another trip to Berlin, but during the afternoon the raid was cancelled and a short-range attack on a Ruhr target was substituted. This was to be an all-Mosquito affair, led by 105 and 109 Squadrons. Our CO, Wing Commander Roy Elliott, decided that this was an opportunity for new crews to have a go and Bill Hickox and I were stood down in favour of two ‘makey-learns’. We had air-tested the aircraft that morning and were satisfied that it was in all respects serviceable. Yet as the Mosquito lifted off at night and entered the area of blackness just beyond the upwind end of the flare path both engines failed and there came the dreadful sound of a crash as the aircraft hit the ground. Both crewmembers were killed. Would this have happened if Bill and I had been on board? We shall never know.

On the night of 2/3 December 627 Squadron lost its first Mosquito when Flight Sergeant Leslie ‘Doggie’ Simpson and Sergeant Peter Walker who were on their first operation since joining from 139 Squadron, failed to return from a raid on Berlin by 458 aircraft. Peter Walker recalls:

Before leaving the English coast it was found that the Gee set was unserviceable but it was decided to carry on using Dead Reckoning navigation with forecast winds. This proved to be highly dangerous as, instead of Southerly winds, it was later reported that the winds had veered to the North and strengthened. Apart from the occasional burst of flak nothing amiss happened until, 100 miles from Berlin, in the region of Magdeburg, a predicted burst of flak took out the starboard engine. Doggie Simpson decided to carry on to the target on one engine. At a much-reduced height and twenty minutes late on target Berlin was bombed and the aircraft turned for the journey home. Unfortunately there was no way of obtaining a visual pinpoint and those unreliable winds were used. At approximately 23.59 hours a terrific barrage of flak was encountered during which time the aircraft was continuously hit. The aircraft was then at a very low altitude with a considerable number of pieces missing from the airframe. After passing through this area, later presumed to be the Ruhr, we continued for a further 50 minutes when at 00.50 hours the aircraft was abandoned. ‘F for Freddie’ had flown 2 hours l0 minutes with both engines functioning and 4 hours 2 minutes on a single engine, a total of 6 hours 12 minutes. The approximate fuel consumption was 70 gallons per hour.
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