The Hand of Fate and Squadron Leader Anthony O. Bridgman, DFC. (Part 3)

The Hand of Fate and Squadron Leader Anthony O. Bridgman DFC.  (Part Three).

By Mitch Peeke.

In Part 2 we saw how Tony Bridgman’s war had been going, his friendships, falling in love with John Collier’s sister in law and ultimately; how he’d been shot down and taken prisoner. Now, we find him incarcerated in a POW Camp in Germany.

One month after capture, Kriegsgefangenen (POW) 1264, Bridgman: Anthony Oslands, Squadron Leader RAF, was transferred from the Dulag Luft at Oberursel to OffizierLager (Oflag) IX-A. Better known as Spangenberg Castle, it was a traditional medieval German Schloss. There he would find himself in the company of fellow officers from all three services who would later become distinguished escapers.

POW Card back

Tony’s POW Card showing his continual movements (Photo courtesy of Frances Leach).

On 4th March 1941, Tony and a number of other POW’s from all three service branches, were transferred from Spangenberg to Stalag XX-A, nearly 500 miles away to the East. Word had reached the Germans that some of their officer POW’s held in Canada were imprisoned at Fort Henry, which was not a camp deemed suitable for officers. As a reprisal, the Germans sent British officer POW’s to one of their equally unsuitable camps. Three months later, they were transferred back to Spangenberg.

On October 8th 1941, Tony was transferred to Oflag VI-B at Doessel, Warburg; about 50 miles North-East of Spangenberg. On September 4th 1942, he was transferred again, with other RAF and Fleet Air Arm pilots, this time to Oflag XXI-B at Szubin, Poland; about 480 miles East of Doessel, as the camp at Doessel was temporarily closed.

Escape is forbidden!

By now, Tony had well and truly had enough of this nomadic German hospitality. He was becoming ever more determined not to remain at Oflag XXI-B. It was here that he turned his own skills toward escapism, and I don’t mean idly reading novels, though he did keep a daily journal during his time as a POW.

During his attempt, he and a friend had successfully tunnelled out of their compound. On 5th November 1942, their appointed night to go, Tony went into the tunnel first. By the time he had reached the end of the tunnel and broken the soil to exit, their attempt had been rumbled and Tony’s comrade had already been caught. Tony poked his head out of the ground to find himself confronted by torch beams and the bared teeth of a snarling German Shepherd Dog that was straining at the end of it’s handler’s lead, just inches from his own face. “AUS! AUS!” growled the Dog Handler. Tony climbed out and was marched/shoved back into camp with his hands on top of his head and the barrel of an MP40 Schmeisser at his back. He also very probably had rather a wry smile on his face, too!

As was usual for would-be escapees, the following day he was placed under strict Stubenarrest (House Arrest) for a period of ten days, as a punishment for his Tunnelbau (Tunnel construction). A tedious reminder that “Flucht ist verboten!”

On 28th February 1943, Tony developed a middle ear infection known as Otitis Media. Usually a painful childhood condition, it could also be fairly common among pilots and submariners. The treatment he received was a ten-day course of what was then a crude first generation of antibiotics, known as Sulfa tablets. Given in high doses, these tablets would often have most unpleasant side effects of their own, but it was better than the old treatment of an equally painful incision made in the inner ear to drain it. The condition and especially the surgical treatment for it, could often lead to long term hearing problems for the sufferer.

Another change of address.

After nearly two years of his not being a model prisoner, Tony was moved again on April 14th 1943, with others of his troublesome ilk, to a brand new camp near Sagan; about 100 miles South-east of Berlin, in upper Silesia and 190 miles South-West of Szubin. (It is now a part of Poland). This new camp was sited there because the soil is quite sandy. Also, the topsoil and the subsoil are distinctly different colours, which combined with its sandy texture and the fact that the huts were built raised off the ground; led the Germans to believe that these factors would make tunnelling extremely difficult. Just to be sure, the Germans installed seismographic microphones at regular intervals, into the ground around the perimeter. The camp was opened in March 1942 and Tony and the others were sent there purely because they had been a considerable nuisance to their captors. Oflag IX-A, East Compound, Stalag Luft 3, was now Squadron Leader Tony Bridgman’s latest address.

Someone who frequently used that address, as well as his previous ones, was Tony’s girlfriend, Virginia Bishop. The two maintained as steady a correspondence as was possible throughout Tony’s incarceration, but theirs was very much a long distance relationship now. At least through Virginia, via her sister, Elizabeth; John Collier was being kept informed of his friend’s situation.

Tony was once more in good company at Stalag Luft 3. Among some of his more renowned inmates were people like Roger Bushell, Robert Stanford-Tuck, Roland Beamont, Paul Brickhill and a Naval Pilot named Peter Butterworth, who would later find fame in the Carry On films.

Never look a Gift Horse in the mouth.

In October of 1943, the East Compound was set for the first ever escape from Stalag Luft 3. Inspired by the ancient story of the Trojan Horse, the prisoners had constructed a gymnastic vaulting horse, mostly from the plywood cases of their Red Cross parcels. The horse was designed to conceal one or two men, the tools for digging and bags for excavated soil. Each day, the horse, with either one or two men hidden inside it, was carried out to exactly the same spot near the perimeter fence and while a long line of prisoners conducted gymnastic exercises over it, a tunnel was being dug from within the horse. Two of the many “Gymnasts” vaulting over the horse every day were Tony Bridgman and Peter Butterworth. When Tony wasn’t vaulting; then he, Peter and many others, took turns at tunnelling. The sounds of the men vaulting and landing prevented the sound of the digging from being detected by the buried microphones.

Model Stalag Luft_III used in the film.

Model Stalag Luft_III used in the film The Great Escape. (Free to use image, courtesy Stalag Luft 3 Museum).

At the end of each “exercise period”, a wooden trap door was placed over the tunnel entrance, on a ledge a few inches below the surface, and carefully covered with the surface soil. The horse, with its hidden cargo of men, tools and bagged-up spoil, was then carried back inside to be unloaded, and the day’s excavated soil distributed evenly in the roof space of the prisoners’ huts.

Over a few months the prisoners, working in shifts of one or two diggers at a time, had managed to dig a tunnel over 30 metres (100 ft) long, deep underground. They used bowls as shovels and poked metal rods carefully through the tunnel roof to make air holes. The only shoring they’d used was for the entrance.

In the early evening of 19th October 1943, Lieutenant Michael Codner, Flight Lieutenant Eric Williams and Flight Lieutenant Oliver Philpot, all three dressed in “suits” made from blankets, made their escape. All three men spoke German fluently, which is why they were nominated to go. Williams and Codner successfully reached the port of Stettin, where they stowed away onboard a Danish ship. Philpot posed as a Norwegian businessman and managed to catch a train to the port of Danzig. Once there, he stowed away on a Swedish ship bound for Stockholm. All three made it safely back to England and once home, they sent a coded postcard to Herbert Massey, (Later Air Commodore Massey) the Senior British Officer at Stalag Luft 3, which boosted morale in the camp considerably when he read it out to the prisoners, during morning parade.  The story of the escape was made into a film in 1950 called The Wooden Horse. An interesting aside here is that Peter Butterworth auditioned for a part in that film, but was turned down. Apparently, he wasn’t considered to be sufficiently athletic and heroic-looking, to take part!

Obviously, news of the successful escape of three prisoners from this brand new, supposedly very hard to escape from camp, was not well received by the Germans. The Kommandant at Stalag Luft 3 was a Luftwaffe Officer: Oberst (Colonel) Friedrich Von Lindeiner-Wildau. Von Lindeiner was a highly decorated veteran of WW1 and before. He was a German patriot and most irrefutably anti-Nazi in his beliefs. He had a reputation for fairness and liberal open-mindedness. He had tried to retire before the war, but was not permitted to. As a result of the Wooden Horse Escape, he ordered that certain prisoners were to be relocated to other camps. Having spent close to two years in Stalag Luft 3, Tony Bridgman was among those who had to go. This was probably just as well, as that was not the only escape project that had been on the go in Stalag Luft 3. Five months after Wooden Horse, in March 1944, came the mass breakout that would become known as The Great Escape, organised by Roger Bushell. Given his track record for getting involved in these things, Tony may well have been up for it and as history has shown, a very high number of those involved, including Bushell, were recaptured and executed by the Gestapo; an event which sickened Von Lindeiner. Subsequently relieved of command at the camp, Von Lindeiner was arrested. Facing Court Martial and a likely execution, he cleverly feigned mental illness to avoid further punishment. After the war, he identified and testified against those who had been responsible for the wholesale murder of his prisoners, at the Nuremberg Trials. Von Lindeiner himself was found to have behaved impeccably throughout the war. He died in May 1963 in Frankfurt, aged 82.

Oberst Von Lindeiner-Wildau, Kommandant of Stalag Luft 3

Oberst Von Lindeiner-Wildau, Kommandant of Stalag Luft 3 (Photo: Free to use image, commons-wikipedia).

After leaving Stalag Luft 3, the Germans stopped recording Tony’s whereabouts on his POW Identity Card. It wasn’t too much longer till news of the successful Allied D Day invasion and breakout began reaching the camps. As the net closed in on Nazi Germany, the guards became increasingly averse to the idea of surrendering to the Russians coming in from the East. They decided to gather their prisoners and march them Westwards, toward the advancing British and American forces. The overall distance involved in these staged marches was in the order of a couple of hundred miles or more and it was all done on foot. Thirty to forty miles per day was not out of the ordinary and the guards and POW’s slept in Churches and Barns along the way. By the time they reached their destination camp somewhere on the outskirts of Berlin, the POW’s, Tony included, had literally made it there on their hands and knees. Tony later recalled crawling into a bunk and staying there for about three days.

Liberation

By now it was becoming increasingly clear to the Germans that their war was lost. In those final weeks and days, the Germans’ treatment of their prisoners became more relaxed. In the event, that long, agonising march had been for nothing. The prisoners woke up one morning to find that the Russians had arrived to liberate the camp. Now the war really was over!

However, the prisoners had to remain in their camp for another couple of weeks, till transport could be arranged for them all on trucks. Once the trucks had been arranged, the prisoners were driven to an American Army Camp. The Americans then flew them on to Brussels in Belgium, ready for the cross-Channel journey home, but there were naturally delays and problems. By now, Tony was fulfilling the role of Senior British Officer.

From Brussels, the men were finally all flown home to England, but Tony was asked to bring a list of all his fellow POW’s to General Grant, at his headquarters in Paris. Tony was duly put on a C47 (the Military version of the famous DC3 Airliner) and flown to an airfield just outside of Paris. From there he was taken to General Grant’s HQ.

Tony said that he was feeling very self-conscious at this point because he now found himself standing in this very fine building, surrounded by well-dressed Americans, dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing when he was shot down four and a half years previously! Despite his attire, Tony was ushered in to see General Grant.

At the end of their meeting, General Grant put Tony up in the smartest hotel in Paris at Uncle Sam’s expense. He also took Tony out to dinner. Grant asked Tony if there was anything he needed and Tony asked him for a new uniform, if it were possible. Tony was duly fitted out with such.

After a few days and nights of General Grant’s hospitality, Tony was put on a ship back to England. Having arrived in Newhaven, he boarded a train to London. Somewhere on that train journey, Tony had a keepsake of some kind that he’d managed to hang on to throughout the war, stolen from him. He was particularly upset by that, as can be imagined.

Tony stepped off the train at London’s Victoria Station and went to a friend’s house for dinner. After dinner and a no doubt pleasant evening, Tony left his friend’s house to walk to the Barracks where he was being put up. Quite suddenly, he found that he did not know what to do or where to go. He later tearfully recalled that “I just felt finished, and didn’t know what to do”. Wandering aimlessly about and obviously in a state of some bewilderment, Tony was found by a Policeman, who directed him to Knightsbridge Barracks. Tony’s war had suddenly caught up with him.

This was not an uncommon occurrence with returning POW’s. The subject of one of my previous books was a former POW of the Japanese and exactly the same thing happened to him. Driving the normally short distance home from work one night, he just went blank. When he “came to”, he was in his old home village of Radway in Oxfordshire, with absolutely no recollection of how he’d got there. Unfortunately, he lived in Kent.

The RAF officially gave Tony a backdated promotion to Full Squadron Leader and the corresponding back-pay due to him. They also offered him a Commanding Officer’s job, but he turned it down. The RAF wasn’t the same now and besides, he’d lost nearly everyone that he knew. He’d also lost Virginia Bishop. She had met and married somebody else in the four and a half years that Tony was a POW. (Her son would grow up to become Patrick Bishop, the author). A man who seemingly now had nothing much left to lose, Tony went on three months leave and was officially discharged from the RAF in 1946.

Civvy Street.

So, what on earth was a now Ex, highly trained, low-level attack pilot and dedicated serial escaper, going to do in peacetime Civvy Street? Well, to start with, someone he knew got him into Ogilvy and Mather’s of Fleet Street, and certainly for a while, it seemed like a good idea. They had connections in America and were a large advertising and publishing company. But a man like Tony was far more used to giving the daily orders, than he was to taking them.

In 1950, Tony was asked to meet someone at London Airport. An American woman by the name of Jeannette Graef, from New York. Tony got talking to her in the car and it was the start of a whirlwind romance that would see them getting married that very same year, despite the fact that she was fourteen years younger than he was.

Tony in 1951 at Temple Golf Club.

Tony in 1951 at Temple Golf Club (Photo courtesy of Frances Leach).

The couple spent the early 1950’s living something of a nomadic life involving London, then Camberley and finally, Canada. For a while, they lived in J M W Turner’s old house at 119 Cheyne Walk in Chelsea; then they moved to Camberley in Surrey. They also found time to have three daughters; Judith in 1951, Frances in 1952 and Kathleen in 1957. Kathleen was born in Canada, as Tony had moved the family to Vancouver in 1956. Tony and Jeannette separated not long after Kathleen was born.  Jeannette took all three children to Nassau in the Bahamas; and there she stayed. Tony remained in Canada, convinced he could still make it.

In Canada, Tony had ended up working in a Gas Station on the Alaska Highway. One snowy, icy night, he was the passenger in a car being driven by a friend, who lost control and crashed. Tony’s back was broken in the accident. As can be imagined, he was in hospital for a very long time and was lucky indeed that he was finally able to walk away from it. Meanwhile, one of his sisters, Marian; concerned that nothing had been heard from him in ages, contacted the Missing Persons Bureau to find him. Find him they did and he was brought back to England; to Hindhead in Surrey.

“Pressed” into action

Once recovered, Tony needed something to do, workwise. Keen not to go down any roads he’d been down before, he still took another chance and bought a small printing company in nearby Guildford. This was the start of the rest of his career, as with presses rolling, Tony Bridgman got Dramrite Printers Ltd off the ground. Guildford was all well and good to start with, but if any money were to be made, it would surely be in London, so Tony decided to move Dramrite’s. He found a small but suitable premises in Long Lane, Southwark, SE1.

In 1968, my Dad, Jim; got himself a job at Dramrite’s, as a printer. My Dad was the original “get on your bike and get yourself a job” type, long before Norman Tebbit’s advice! I was a six year old boy at the time and my Brother was four and a half. It was shift work, as most print jobs were and indeed still are. One week on earlies, one week on lates and some days of double shifts. Fortunately, we lived within easy walking distance of Long Lane; in Great Dover Street.

Most of Dramrite’s work was the urgent kind of jobs, fast turnaround. My Dad loved working there. He loved the small, close-knit fraternity of it and he quickly came to like Tony, very much. My Mum would often help out from home, especially during the school holidays, with some of the finishing work, which Tony paid her for. Typical of the work she did was collating the business forms that Dramrite’s seemed to turn out in their thousands. I well remember the four piles of different coloured paper that seemed to live semi-permanently on a table in our front room. They had to be collated into one pile, in the order white on top, then pink, then yellow and then green on the bottom. Once collated, they were boxed up ready for Tony to collect in the firm’s van. As he collected them, he would of course drop a lot more off to be collated! Tony used to sit in our kitchen sometimes having a cold drink and playing little “where’s it gone?” games with my Brother and I. My Dad always said he was such a fair man to work for, but I don’t remember Tony paying me for any of the collating that I got roped into!

Tony at his desk at Dramrite's, taken about eight years after my Dad worked for him.

Tony at his desk at Dramrite’s, taken about eight years after my Dad worked for him (Photo courtesy Frances Leach).

My Mum says that Tony was always “such a Gentleman”. One day during the second summer that my Dad worked for him, I took my first flying lesson; …….over the handlebars of my bike! The resultant crash landing wasn’t exactly text-book and I broke my left forearm. Crying and cradling my arm, I ran home and my Mum decided it would be quicker if we walked up to Guys Hospital. We had no phone in those days and we’d have to pass Dramrite’s anyway, so we stopped off to let my Dad know what had happened. On hearing me crying, Tony came out of his office to find out what was going on. My Mum quickly told him and then off we went to Guys. Just after we left, Tony told my Dad to get himself cleaned up as soon as he could and come straight after us. My Dad said to him “but what about the job on my press, its urgent?!” Tony said: “They’re all urgent, Jimbo; (Seems being given an RAF-style nickname was still traditional!) don’t worry, we’ll cope! Now GO!” He still paid my Dad to the end of his shift.

It is fair to say that Tony lived and breathed Dramrite’s. He lived in the flat above the print works. Frances recalls visiting him there as a student. Frances would often rent a little bedsit during any term time in London as both she and Judith were living and studying at University in London by then. Tony would often call round to them with food shopping and anything else an impoverished student was likely to be in need of! My Mum said Tony often told her how he missed his girls. Frances describes him as being a good and kindly Dad, but he seemed to find it hard to express emotion. After he and Jeannette separated, Tony never remarried, though Jeannette did.

Tony did have two other passions though. One was Golf and the other was horses. No, not the wooden, vaulting-over kind again! The four-legged show-jumping kind. An accomplished horseman himself, Tony owned two horses at Hickstead. One was named Contrast and the other was called Sandyman. I can remember my Dad taking us to a show somewhere to see Contrast compete. Champion show-jumper David Broome used to ride Tony’s horses for him.

Tony with Sandyman.

Tony with Sandyman (Photo: Courtesy Judy Costa).

In May 1972, my family moved out of Central London to the then leafy suburbs of Sidcup, Kent. My Dad didn’t want to leave Dramrite’s, but with nowhere to park a car nearby, he had to rely on the train to get to work. Despite his earnest efforts, British Rail’s timetable just couldn’t be made to fit the demands of a busy and necessarily flexible shift pattern such as that at Dramrite’s. Reluctantly, my Dad had to leave Tony’s employ, but armed as he was with a glowing reference, he quickly found work locally. Although he happily settled in first at Ashmead Press and shortly after at Masterprint, he always said that he never again found anywhere like Dramrite’s. My Dad (who must have liked his nickname, because he was still known as “Jimbo” 16 years later at Masterprint), died very suddenly in 1988, eight weeks short of his 51st birthday.

"Jimbo" a few years later at MasterPrint.

“Jimbo” a few years later at MasterPrint. (Photo Mitch Peeke).

Steer South-west, more Gardening Ops

With retirement in mind, Tony finally sold his beloved and very successful Dramrite’s in 1980 and moved to the picturesque village of Polruan in Cornwall, where he lived in a very comfortable semi-detached house by the sea. He still loved gardening, but it was the green-fingered type this time, and he grew lots of vegetables, which didn’t explode or sink enemy ships! Frances described his garden as being; “Military. Everything was in very straight rows.” He also kept a meticulous daily journal of his gardening activities. Tony bought a small Sailboat too, but he never really got into sailing and he ultimately sold it with very few nautical miles on the clock.

I asked Frances if she knew whether Tony had ever kept in touch with any of his old RAF friends. She said; “No, not really. Though he would sometimes cut obituaries out of the newspaper and file them away”. Leonard Snaith, his old C.O. in 83 Squadron, died in 1985 and John “Joe” Collier died in 2000. Jamie Pitcairn-Hill, Rossy and Guy Gibson of course were all killed in action during World War 2. Tony had once given Frances a copy of Guy’s book, Enemy Coast Ahead to read.

Tony with Judith 1951, Tony in his garden at Polruan and Tony on an outing in Paris

Tony with Judith 1951, Tony in his garden at Polruan and Tony on an outing in Paris (Photo courtesy of Frances Leach).

Tony lived happily in his house by the sea for nearly twenty two years till in 2002, he moved up to Hartland in North Devon. By the time he’d reached 85, Tony was starting to have trouble coping on his own. Frances had long been married with two children of her own by then and was an established potter. She and her husband had their own business, a successful pottery in Hartland, and Tony had moved there from Cornwall so that he could be nearer to them. It wasn’t long though till Tony really couldn’t cope on his own any more and he moved into the Lakenham Residential Home in Northam, North Devon; just a few miles up the A39 from Hartland.

Squadron Leader Tony “Oscar” Bridgman DFC, passed away on 14th January 2006 in the care home, aged 90. He left his three daughters and five grand children. In the end, it was he who was the very last of “The Old Guard” from 83 Squadron. However, Tony’s story doesn’t quite end there.

The unfulfilled destiny of Tony Bridgman.

As I mentioned earlier, Dramrite’s was a very busy printers, but they had breaks! During those breaks, the printers, my Dad included, would often get Tony to share one of his stories. He seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of them! During one such break, the subject of Guy Gibson and the Dambusters was raised; possibly after the film had been on the television. Tony smiled and told his “chaps” (as he often called them) “If I hadn’t have had the damned bad luck to get shot down, the history of that raid may well have been different.” Asked what he meant, Tony got up, signifying that it was time to go back to work and said; “Because that could easily have been my show, and not Gibbo’s!”

My Dad didn’t tell me that one till I was about 14. I had more than a keen interest in aircraft by then. I was in the Air Cadets and a weekend flying member of the Kent Gliding Club. I didn’t know all that much about the Dams Raid, then. I’d seen the film (more than once) and read Paul Brickhill’s book, but my knowledge was really not much more than that. So at the time, I tended to think that it may have been something of a “line shoot” perhaps. After all, I’d been brought up with my Grandad’s sea stories and everyone knows how old sailors love to yarn! Why should airmen be any different? Furthermore, Tony wasn’t mentioned in either the film or the book. So, I left it there, but I never actually forgot it.

Fast forward to April/May 2020. I am nearly 58 and we are in the middle of the Coronavirus lock down. For about twenty one years now, I have been something of a writer/historian in my spare time. I’ve had four books and countless articles published in that time and in what is surely a sign of the times, those articles have been increasingly less for printed magazines and increasingly more for websites.

With being somewhat “confined to Barracks” due to the lock down, I have been keeping myself busy (and my sanity preserved), by writing more articles. I was having an email discussion with a man called Paul and he sent me a slightly unusual, though typically posed photo, of Guy Gibson; asking me if I could tell him anything about it. I dug around a bit and was able to tell him where it was taken and that it had been taken shortly before he was selected to command 617 Squadron. I also mentioned that my Dad had once worked for a man who knew Gibson very well.

Then I remembered what my Dad had once said about the possibility of the Dams Raid not being Gibson’s show if circumstances had been different. In what could only be described as my having a “Light bulb moment”, I suddenly found that I had the idea for another article. Little did I realize at the time quite what a mission I had just set myself, or what the sheer size of that article would turn out to be!

So; now that we are all familiar with Tony’s frankly, amazing story; we can come to the $64, 000 question: Namely; is there any truth in Tony Bridgman’s assertion that if he hadn’t been shot down, he may well have led 617 Squadron himself, with Gibson as a Flight Commander.

John “Joe” Collier was a Group Captain by 1943 and was working in Bomber Command’s Raid Planning Dept. As a pilot, he could easily have led the Dams Raid himself, but he was now far too senior and far more valuable where he was. Collier did much of the initial planning of the Dams Raid, including putting forward his suggestions for a suitable leader for such a daring enterprise.

In 1943, in looking at a suitable leader, they were looking for someone with a proven track record in low-level precision attacks. Somebody who was a highly skilled, experienced and successful leader of men. A man who was openly daring, fearless almost. He would have to be a superb pilot of course and if it could be somebody you actually knew personally who possessed all those traits, well; so much the better.

Now, put yourself in Collier’s shoes. He is asked to come up with a recommendation for such a man. Roderick “Babe” Learoyd VC, formerly of 49 Squadron; the man who brought down the aqueduct in August 1940, was available. He was undoubtedly highly experienced and highly skilled. He was certainly extremely brave and a great leader, but he perhaps didn’t quite have that “openly daring” side to him. He was something of a reluctant hero, perhaps; a more than admirable character trait of course but not one that, of necessity, you are looking for at that precise point. Guy Gibson; a skilled and decorated pilot, known personally as both a friend and a squadron mate and still very eager to win himself that VC, was also available. Now, let’s add a third name to the shortlist: That of “Oscar” Bridgman DFC.

Let’s say Tony hadn’t been shot down and that perhaps he had then followed the same sort of path that Gibson did. He’d have left 83 Squadron, been promoted to full Squadron Leader, moving on to larger aircraft types and being given command of a night bomber squadron, followed by further promotion to Wing Commander. Tony was very much the senior man of the two, so he would have done it all that bit sooner and therefore would have had that much more experience. Gibson, if Tony hadn’t have been shot down, would always therefore have been that much behind, following in Tony’s footsteps.

Then the idea for the Dams Raid is put forward. You are still in Collier’s shoes. You have known both those men personally and professionally for years, Tony Bridgman slightly longer. Whom would you choose, if you had to make that choice? The highly skilled but still slightly impetuous and VC-chasing Gibson, or the man who had taught him; the very man that Gibbo himself looked up to: “Oscar” Bridgman. Put it into that context and I really do think there is a great deal of truth in Tony’s assertion.

However, the reality in 1943 was that Tony was shot down, so that choice simply wasn’t one that Collier would ever have to face making. Given the choices that Collier did have available to him, Gibbo was naturally going to be his recommendation and it was Gibson of course who did get the job, as Air Chief Marshal Cochrane evidently went along with Collier’s recommendation.

Ultimately though, I personally feel that if the hand of fate had not intervened that night over Germany in September 1940, this somewhat epic article might never have been written; because Tony Bridgman, like his protogee, probably would not have survived the war. The one thing that both “Oscar” and “Gibbo” never considered, was taking a rest. That mindset certainly took its toll on Gibson. Although he finally got the VC he so desperately wanted, for leading the Dams Raid; his war ultimately cost Guy Gibson his young life.

As something of a finale perhaps, what remained of the wreckage of Tony’s Hampden and that errant 500lb bomb that the German disposal engineers blew up, was found in 2015 by Herr Volker Urbansky; a passionate German local historian. I am indebted to him for the extra information he has so happily and freely provided me with. I am also deeply indebted to Frances Leach, nee Bridgman; for  everything.

Sources and Acknowledgements for (Part 3).

Frances Leach  (Tony Bridgman’s middle Daughter).
Judith and David Costa. (Tony Bridgman’s eldest Daughter and her Husband).
Stalag Luft 3 Museum, Poland.
My Mum; Eve.
My own memories of my Dad; “Jimbo” .
Old Waynfletes Magazine. Issue 36, Page 18. Tony’s Obituary.
Herr Volker Urbansky.
Ditte Trudslev of Aalborg Bibliotekerne, HistorieAalborg, Denmark.
Philippe Listemann at www.raf-in-combat.com

A final acknowledgement must also go to James Marley of The Ringwood and Verwood Round Table; to Mrs Nicky Van der Drift and Dan Ellin, both from the International Bomber Command Centre in Lincolnshire, and to Mr Patrick Otter.

My thanks again to Mitch and everyone who has contributed to the story. It can be read in full in Heroic Tales.

Following the writing of this post, a new page has been created in Wikipedia about Anthony Bridgman.

The Hand of Fate and Squadron Leader Anthony O. Bridgman, DFC. (Part 2)

The Hand of Fate and Squadron Leader Anthony O. Bridgman DFC.  (Part Two).

By Mitch Peeke.

In Part one, we saw how Tony Bridgman had grown up, joined the RAF and how he had fast become a true leader of men; as a Senior Flight Commander in 83 Squadron at Scampton and how he had taken Guy Gibson under his wing. Now, as we rejoin him in mid-April 1940; things were hotting up.

83 Squadron aircrew and Hampden at RAF Scampton

83 Squadron aircrew and Hampden at RAF Scampton (IWM CH266).

April 1940 saw a marked increase in the squadron’s gardening activities and now ploughing ops were growing in frequency, too. By now, young Gibbo was a fully-fledged Flying Officer and an experienced one. He had a tight-knit aircrew who were right behind him and he was well on his way to becoming the legendary leader he would prove himself to be. Although he never did quite lose his disdain for those of a non-commissioned rank or lower, he was definitely a lot better in that respect than he used to be. He also had a ground crew who could now at last take some pride in both “their man” and “their aircraft”. Gibbo idolised his Flight Commander and would have followed him into the very gates of Hell if required. Tony had not only become Gibson’s friend and mentor, he was now very much Gibson’s role model. For Tony’s part, his good friend Gibbo could be trusted implicitly as his wingman; both in the air and on their many drunken sorties on the ground! Gibbo was in fact, doing his level best to emulate his Flight Commander, in everything.

On the night of 17th/18th April, Tony and his wingman that night, Rossy; were out on what had become a two-plane gardening mission in the entrance to the Skagerrak Strait, off the North-western Danish coast. The third aircraft that was supposed to be following them had been unable to locate their intended garden and was now taking its vegetable back home. Having both successfully planted their own vegetables, Tony and Rossy went on to have a look at Aalborg aerodrome.

Aalborg Airport just after its opening in 1938.

Aalborg Airport just after its opening in 1938 (Photo: J A Kirkegaard, via Aalborg Stadsarchiv. By kind permission).

Aalborg was a new, pre-war airport opened in 1938, which the Germans were now using to fly troops and supplies into Denmark and Norway, with their venerable three-engined Junkers 52 transport planes. The Germans were known to be expanding the place already and it was felt that it might be worth “paying them a visit”. Tony and Rossy flew a couple of fast and low “Recce” passes over the airport to see how the Germans were getting on and to see what their responses would be like.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that the two intruders were not at all welcome. Heavy Anti Aircraft fire came at them, but flying low and fast as they were, Tony and Rossy came through it virtually unscathed, as the Germans, caught by surprise, were not able to get their range in time. Unfortunately for the Germans, Tony and Rossy had both seen and noted the three large concentrations of Luftwaffe aircraft parked near the hangars at Aalborg. By the time the pair returned to Scampton, the basis of a Ploughing Plan was formed in Tony’s mind and a “visit” from 83 Squadron was now most definitely on the cards.

German transport and communications aircraft at Aalborg on the first day of the occupation. Tony and Rossy would have seen a similar sight on their recce of Aalborg.

German transport and communications aircraft at Aalborg on the first day of the occupation. Tony and Rossy would have seen a similar sight on their recce of Aalborg (Photo: J A Kirkegaard, via Aalborg Stadsarchiv. By kind permission).

The evening of the 19th April found Tony and Rossy in the officers Mess. Tony had already decided who the third man on this sortie was going to be, so he and Rossy sought out Gibbo and suggested they all go get a bite, to escape the noisy atmosphere of the Mess. Seated in a quieter environment, Tony outlined his plan for the three of them. Taking off at two minute intervals, Tony leading, they would come in from the North-eastern approach, with Sweden behind them. They’d be coming in at 800 feet from behind Aalborg’s Hangars, to hit the airport with a mixture of Incendiary and General Purpose bombs with delayed action fuzes. Prime targets were the Hangars and parked aircraft first, then the runways on the way out. One pass per aircraft low and fast, bombs and incendiaries on the spot then get the Hell out of it, turning starboard away from the Harbour and Limsfjord and back out to sea. The operation was set for the following night, 20th/21st with Tony taking off at 01:00.

The following night, the planned raid was evidently brought forward to 23:00, probably due to the weather. (The squadron’s Operations Record Book records Tony’s take off time as 23:10). The weather was low cloud and light rain, which was set to worsen later. Despite that, the raid was still on. With the three aircraft sat ready, engines running, Gibson tried a radio check. Nothing. He tried again, still nothing but static. Turning to his Radio man, Gibson shouted back to him to try to get it working, fast! Unfortunately, the rain had leaked into it somehow and rendered it useless. As always, there was a spare aircraft prepared. That night it was Jack Kynoch’s Hampden that was standing spare, with the same load as the other three. Gibbo and his crew hurriedly transferred over to it. After a ten minute delay to Tony’s intended take off time and still no sign that Gibbo and his crew would be able to go, Tony and then Rossy took off, leaving a frustrated Gibbo still trying to get Kynoch’s aircraft hurriedly through its pre-flight checks, to join the other two.

Slightly late but otherwise fine, Tony and then Rossy found Aalborg and between them, paid it a comprehensive visit. At 800 feet, as planned, they came in low and fast over the hangars, Tony first. Amid a hail of A/A fire, they paid their individual respects by making holes and starting fires in the hangars, damaging transport aircraft and cratering the runways. Their lower Air Gunners further strafed the parked aircraft and other ground targets behind them, before the two took their leave just as quickly as they had arrived. Both of them now had some “extra ventilation” in their Hampdens; far more so in Rossy’s, but the Hampden had proven its ability to withstand a lot of damage and still keep flying. They headed home, no doubt very pleased with their handiwork. A “good show” as Tony would have said.

Taking off some 35 minutes behind Rossy, Gibson was roundly cursing his luck. He’d always had something of a love/hate relationship with his own “kite”, C-Charlie; which tended to swing hard right on take-off for reasons that had never been discovered, but at least he was used to her wiles. Now, having hurriedly transferred to the spare and got her off the deck, he discovered that this aircraft wasn’t flying right, either. She seemed unusually heavy on the ailerons for some reason. He was having a bit of a fight to keep her going straight and level, but he was determined not to let the side down. Coming in late like this also meant that the Germans would be on their toes when he got there after Tony and Rossy’s visit. They’d certainly be giving him a “warm welcome”.

Nearly two hours into the flight, with the throttles having been set for a fast cruise, Gibson kept checking his watch. By his reckoning, they should have sighted land by now. All he could seem to see, was the North Sea. He asked Jack Warner, the Navigator; to check their ETA again and was told another five minutes to the enemy coast.

When that five minutes elapsed with no recognizable sign of a coast, Gibson asked Jack for an update. They flew on for a few more minutes and then, sighted definite land at last. Crossing the coast, both Jack and Gibson realized that something had gone terribly wrong. They were over Copenhagen! They were way off course, a good 200km South-east of where they should have been. Furthermore, the sun was just beginning to come up. Realizing they were now much deeper into enemy territory than was considered healthy, and that very soon they’d be totally exposed in the coming daylight, Gibson swore at Jack over his duff navigation, set the throttles to “Full” and turned for home. Even staying low and going flat-out as he now was, it would take them nearly thirty minutes flying time, avoiding known defended areas, to re-cross the coast. Finding and bombing Aalborg was absolutely out of the question now. They had failed; which for Gibson, wasn’t an option. Apart from one policeman taking an overly optimistic pot-shot at them with his revolver, the two and a half hour return flight was solemn, and uneventful.

The three returning aircraft were diverted to Lossiemouth as the weather had clamped right down at Scampton. Tony and Rossy landed at Lossiemouth at 06:10. Gibson was still on his way there. By the time he’d found Lossiemouth and landed, his petrol gauges were decidedly near their empty marks and he was nearly two hours overdue! At that precise moment, Gibson was not the happiest bomber pilot in the land and his Navigator had somewhat borne the brunt of his displeasure.

In refuelling and checking Gibson’s aircraft over, the ground crew at Lossiemouth discovered that the aircraft’s compass was defective, having a huge twenty degree range of unsteady deviation. Gibson thanked the crew chief then went to seek out Jack, his Navigator. Having found him, Gibson explained what he’d just been told about the compass and he duly and sincerely apologized to Jack for the “rough treatment” he’d given him on the flight. With Gibson’s apology accepted, all was deemed well again.

Compass problem fixed, the three aircraft returned to Scampton together later that day. Upon landing, Gibson reported to “Chiefy” Langford that there was definitely something wrong with the aircraft and it was not flying right. Langford later reported back to Gibson that whilst inspecting the aircraft, he’d found that one of the self-sealing fuel tanks had an undetected hole in it and the sealant had swollen to the point where it was fouling one of the aileron control cables.  Due to his own physical strength, Jack Kynoch simply hadn’t noticed it himself!

Of course, Gibson and Warner took a lot of good-natured ribbing in the mess over their “Danish sightseeing trip.” I dare say that comments such as; “I say Gibbo, did you take in the castle? Lovely gardens!” Or; “Oh, you two must have seen the palace. It’s quite splendid, isn’t it?!” were probably quite common, but Gibbo and Jack took it all on the chin, even when no less a man than “Bomber” Harris was laughing at them over it, too! (Harris visited 83 Squadron the day after). Having some time ago found the ability to laugh at circumstance or even himself, rather than simply finding fault or blaming others, Gibson was now considerably more popular around Scampton than he used to be.

Tony and Rossy both got the DFC for that raid and deservedly so, as did their respective Navigators. Their Air Gunners were also decorated with the DFM. Gibson and his crew missed out of course but it certainly hadn’t been for the want of trying! The squadron’s Operations Record Book for that raid simply says that the enemy fire Tony and Rossy met with over Aalborg had been “Intense”. To give the reader some idea of Aalborg’s defences; barely four months later, Twelve Bristol Blenheims from 82 Squadron set out to bomb Aalborg as one formation. Eleven of those aircraft were shot out of the sky by a deadly combination of heavy Flak and Fighters. Almost the entire squadron was wiped out in a little less than twenty minutes. It would have been all twelve aircraft, but one Blenheim had the good fortune to suffer with fuel problems over the sea on the way to the target, and was forced to turn back.

Just three days after their spectacular raid on Aalborg, Tony received some extremely bad news. One of his Brothers, Francis; had been killed in action. Francis Harley Bridgman had earlier joined the RAFVR and was at that time a Wireless Operator/Air Gunner in 105 Squadron, who were flying Blenheims. He was 24 when his aircraft; a Blenheim MkV, code letters GB-T, serial V6370; was shot down and crashed into the sea 5 kilometres West of Westkapelle, Holland. They’d been attacking enemy shipping and were hit repeatedly by Flak.

Blitzkrieg!

Less than a month later, and the German Blitzkrieg was blasting its way across the Low Countries. Europe collapsed like a house of cards beneath the German onslaught. Holland fell, Belgium fell and now the Battle of France was being hard fought. Chamberlain had been replaced as Prime Minister by Winston Churchill and now the gloves were off. Targets in Germany were now very much “on the menu” and if “Private Property” got in the way during an attack, so be it; as long as it wasn’t intentional. 83 Squadron stepped up both their ploughing and gardening operations; anything to try to slow the German advance by causing them supply problems or disrupting troop movements. Railways, Harbours, Canals, Shipping; all became targets for the boys of 83 Squadron, of which Tony was now Acting Squadron Leader.

One of the last gardening trips that 83 Squadron would be doing for a while was to Copenhagen. During the briefing, Snaith reminded them all that it was a place that Gibbo and his Navigator knew well! This trip, Jack Warner excelled himself and the successful round trip was made in just under six and a half hours. It was Dawn when Gibbo landed. Barely had he jumped off his Hampden’s wing when Tony told him that Pit was missing. After a tense two hour wait, a damaged but intact OL-B was spotted with it’s wheels down and coming in to land. The straggling Pit had made it. “Good show, chaps!” Tony said to Gibbo and the others who were waiting. “Now we can go and have some bacon and eggs!” With that, he led the way to get breakfast.

Gibson had a close call himself whilst out ploughing on 17th May. Pressing home his low level attack, one wing of his Hampden struck a balloon cable. Normally, that would have meant certain disaster, but Gibbo and his crew were extremely lucky that the cable snapped. They brought a fair length of the heavy  steel cable back to Scampton with them, wrapped around the wing; the resultant drag from which combined with damaged rudders and her usual wiles, made C-Charlie very hard for Gibbo to fly. But as ever, he was nothing if not determined!

On 31st May, the awarding of the DFC to Tony and Rossy for their daring low level reconnaissance and successful subsequent attack on Aalborg, appeared in The London Gazette, but May turned to June with no let up in operations. The Dunkerque Evacuation was now under way, and 83 Squadron were using their low flying, hit and run skills against a seemingly never ending range of targets. There certainly wasn’t time to mark Tony’s 25th Birthday on the 4th properly, but two days later, the award of his DFC also appeared in the Service Aviation pages of the very popular Flight magazine, along with a brief, but not too specific, description of the Aalborg raid. On June 9th, Wing Commander Sissons arrived to take over from Leonard Snaith as the CO of 83 Squadron.

Postcard sent to Tony and Rossy on 3rd June 1940 from Guy Gibson, congratulating them on their DFC's. Guy was on a week's leave with his girlfriend Evie in Brighton at the time.

Postcard sent to Tony and Rossy on 3rd June 1940 from Guy Gibson, congratulating them on their DFC’s. Guy was on a week’s leave with his girlfriend Evie in Brighton at the time (Image courtesy Judy Costa).

On 27th June, Gibson took part in a ploughing operation against the heavily defended Dornier Factory’s airfield at Wismar, on the Baltic coast of Germany. During the course of the raid, Gibson’s aircraft took a hell of a lot of Flak but he was delighted that his bombs appeared to have been placed on target, despite the Germans’ best efforts to spoil their aim. He managed to nurse Flak-Blasted C-Charlie home somehow. At debrief, there was a heated argument between the crews, Gibson’s included, as to exactly who it was that had started the only fire seen on Messrs. Dornier’s property! Meanwhile, Chiefy Langford’s crews found that Gibson’s aircraft was extremely badly damaged. It took them a full week to get it airworthy again. Deservedly, on 9th July, Flying Officer Guy Gibson and Flight Lieutenant Jamie Pitcairn-Hill were both awarded the DFC for their outstanding flying during several raids. Gibbo had finally been given his Aalborg. The debate as to who’d started that one fire at Dornier’s was finally settled on 27th July; when the squadron returned to Wismar and pretty much everybody started a fire there!

Postcard sent to Tony and Rossy on 3rd June 1940 from Guy Gibson, congratulating them on their DFC's. Guy was on a week's leave with his girlfriend Evie in Brighton at the time.

Postcard sent to Tony and Rossy on 3rd June 1940 from Guy Gibson, congratulating them on their DFC’s. Guy was on a week’s leave with his girlfriend Evie in Brighton at the time (Image courtesy Judy Costa).

Still no let up.

With the Battle of Britain raging over the Southern Counties, 83 Squadron played their part in the Battle of the Barges. The Germans were putting together a large invasion fleet in the French Channel Ports. The Barges were for ferrying the Wehrmacht’s forces over to England. Over Scampton’s dead bodies! Sadly, that is how it soon began to be played out.

There was one day in early August 1940 at Scampton, which the Luftwaffe would have been so proud of, if only it had been they who had done the damage. Talking amongst themselves that day, Tony, Guy, Rossy and some of the others were sitting on the grass outside of their accommodation block, laughing and joking, when Jack Kynoch came along to say goodbye. He and one other, Sgt Ollason; were being posted away to an OTU for a spell as Instructors. When Tony asked if he knew why, Kynoch told them all that the CO had said something about them having a rest. He said his cheery farewells and left. Tony, Gibson and Rossy all looked at each other. The one thing none of them had ever considered, was having a rest. It was something of a shock.

The three resumed their conversation, which had turned to the subject of different methods of attack. Rossy preferred high level attacks but Tony and Guy definitely preferred the low level ones, though Guy’s personal favourite was dive-bombing, even in the Hampden! Tony reckoned that if you kept low, stayed as far away from defended areas as much as possible (except over the target of course!) and remained alert, he couldn’t see any reason why you couldn’t survive a hundred sorties. Gibson agreed: He thought they could go on forever like that. After all, they had pretty much become specialists in precision low level flying now.  Then, rather abruptly, there came another, much bigger shock.

For reasons never determined, there came an almighty explosion, which interrupted Tony mid-sentence. The ground shook as 18 of Scampton’s stock of “Vegetables” blew up without warning in the station’s Bomb Dump. Among others, Gibson would describe it being the single biggest explosion he had ever heard; one which sent a pall of thick black smoke to a height of nearly 3,000 feet over the aerodrome. Perhaps it wasn’t just the aircrews who were getting over-tired and in need of a rest.

On 12th August, aircraft from both of Scampton’s squadrons made a very daring, low-level attack on the aqueduct and locks on the Dortmund-Ems Canal, at Munster. Rossy, second one into the attack, was shot out of the sky in a horrific fireball, his aircraft having taken the full force of a lethal direct hit. Rossy had followed Jamie Pitcairn-Hill, who’d led the attack and whose aircraft had certainly suffered a lot of damage. “Pit” managed to limp his Hampden home. Rossy’s friend and fellow Aussie, Mull; third into the attack, was shot down and captured. With his aircraft suffering catastrophic damage from the Flak and too low to bale out, Mull quickly ditched his bomb. He clawed his way up to just under 2,000 feet to let his Navigator and the Lower Rear Gunner bale out and then opted for a crash landing in a field. It took the Germans quite some time to free Mull and his Wireless Operator from the twisted remains of their Hampden. Fourth man in was Pilot Officer Matthews. He exited the Flak with one engine smashed.

The aqueduct was successfully breached by the last aircraft to attack, that of Flight Lieutenant Roderick “Babe” Learoyd of 49 squadron. Like the others, Learoyd was coming in very low, flying up the canal at a height of just 300 feet. But of course, with four having gone before him, the German gunners were fully prepared and waiting for Learoyd’s approach.

Even though he’d seen what happened to the four who’d attacked before him, Learoyd flew through the absolute firestorm of Flak and Cannon-fire that was put in his path, to drop his bomb right on the aqueduct. His aircraft was hit severely and his hydraulics were blown away, but his engines were still going strong and he was able to make a safe return to Scampton. Even then, he was forced to circle till daylight, as without their hydraulics, his undercarriage and flaps were not functional. When daylight came and he had used up most of his fuel, Learoyd managed to make a successful wheels up crash landing, which everyone walked away from. Learoyd was justly awarded the VC for his actions. His was Bomber Command’s first VC. Pit was awarded the DSO for his leadership. Mull got a Bar to his DFC.

Wing Commander Roderick "Babe" Learoyd VC.

Wing Commander Roderick “Babe” Learoyd VC (Photo: IWM CH13631 Crown Copyright expired).

In Germany, Learoyd’s bomb had destroyed half of one arch on the old stone aqueduct. It took the Germans ten full days to repair the span with a new concrete section, which given the considerable damage inflicted by Learoyd’s bomb, was pretty good going. Even so, the daring raid caused a significant delay in the movement of a large fleet of Rhine Barges that were being taken to France for use as troop transports. That raid, plus the effects of the other raids the RAF were making on his assembled Barges, caused Hitler to postpone his invasion plans till 21st September. Time was fast running out for the Germans’ Operation Seelowe.

However, the Munster aqueduct raid was very much different to their other, previous attacks inasmuch as the crews had been specifically training for their target. They even had a “special weapon” for the task. A converted Sea Mine with a drogue parachute and a delayed action fuze, it was called an “M-Bomb”. John Collier had greatly helped to plan the raid and it was Collier who led the diversionary attack on the locks. That raid was in essence, the RAF’s first properly planned precision raid of the war, trained for by crack aircrews who’d practised it first, using canals in Lincolnshire. In many ways, it was the forerunner of another raid that would make history later. A raid that would also see its initial planning involving Collier and the advanced planning being done jointly with, and the raid led by, another former 83 Squadron officer. But that was still another two years and nine months into the future.

83(F) Squadron?

Two weeks after Rossy had been killed, two members of 83 Squadron proved just how versatile the Hampden could be; if you were a good enough pilot! On the night of August 24th/25th, whilst returning from a Gardening trip over Lorient, Gibson spotted a lone Dornier 17 “stooging about” below him. He dived on it, raking it with the Hampden’s fixed forward-firing gun, in a Fighter-style attack, which was certainly not a role that the Hampden had ever been designed to fulfil! He was overjoyed to see his victim going down. When he landed back at Scampton, he very excitedly told Tony Bridgman and John Collier all about it.

Two nights later, Tony found himself in exactly the same favourable position and thought he’d give Gibbo’s newest trick a go. To his amazement, he found that it apparently did work like a charm, as he too, observed his “Kill” going down. Both men each claimed a Dornier 17 destroyed, but as neither crash could be verified, both were credited with a “probable”.

Last of the Old Guard.

Then came the night of August 30th when on his 35th Op, John “Joe” Collier’s Hampden suffered an overheating engine as they headed out to raid Magdeburg. With no option but to turn straight back to Scampton, Collier undershot the blacked out runway in making his emergency landing and crashed, with a full bomb load onboard. Mercifully, nobody was killed but, pulled unconscious from the wreckage by one of his  crew members, Collier did have severe concussion. He was posted away from 83 Squadron to recover and would be medically grounded for the next six months.

The strain of these constant operations was more than beginning to tell. The boys of 83 were beginning to look more like veterans of 63. Even an action-hungry pilot such as Gibson admitted to feeling “Jumpy”, but he wasn’t about to let his Flight Commander or his squadron down.

As things stood on 1st September; of the original officers of the pre-war 83 Squadron, only Tony Bridgman, Jamie Pitcairn-Hill and Guy Gibson were left and Tony had been Acting Squadron Leader since May, as the now absent Collier had also been. They all were over-tired, stressed and long overdue for relief, just as their comrades in the Fighter Squadrons were at that time.

Then, on 18th September, came another bitter blow. The lovable and fiercely brave Scotsman that was F/L Jamie Pitcairn-Hill; promoted into Collier’s position as the second Acting Squadron Leader, “bought it” over Le Havre. Hit by Flak, his Hampden crashed into the Seine Estuary. His body was recovered and interred at nearby Luc Sur Mer, where he remains to this day. Jamie’s death left Tony and Guy as the very last of “The Old Guard” at 83 Squadron.

The Hand of Fate.

Since the Germans began bombing London, at first due to a navigational error, but after an RAF reprisal on Berlin, by design; the German capital had been added to Bomber Command’s “to do” list. On the night of 23rd/24th September 1940, a force of over 200 RAF bombers was sent to raid Berlin. Eleven of those aircraft were the Hampdens of 83 Squadron, led by Tony Bridgman.

The weather wasn’t ideal, with cloud all the way to the target. To make matters worse, the Germans were successfully jamming their loop bearing indicators, so both the navigation and the bombing was being done by dead reckoning. Ultimately, very few of the bombs they dropped actually hit Berlin itself.

Tony was flying Hampden L4049, code letters OL-A that night. After dropping his bombs and turning for home, Tony found that one of his 500lb bombs had not left the aircraft as it should have done. It wasn’t a problem, it was more an annoyance. They’d gone all that way with luck and the weather against them, only to be bringing one back.

As they passed a little to the South-west of Bremen, more than halfway back to the German coast and on a direct route home, the German searchlights and Flak Gunners found them; with devastating effect. Within seconds of being illuminated in an intense white light, Tony’s Hampden was crippled. With one engine now on fire, his Wireless Operator; Sgt Gorwood DFM; sent a message that they were bailing out. That was quickly followed by another message saying they were trying to make it home. Then the German gunners scored another, fatal hit. OL-A was going down fast, and in flames. No more messages were sent.

Tony pressed the emergency signal to all crew stations, giving the order for everyone to jump. As the stricken Hampden plummeted earthward, Tony unplugged his radio lead, unfastened his straps, pushed the cockpit hood back and took to his parachute. As noted in part one, evacuating a Hampden in an emergency, wasn’t a prospect to be relished. This is graphically borne out by the fact that unknown to him at the time, Tony was the only one who’d made it out of that blazing aircraft alive.

The burning Hampden hit the ground in a field behind a barn near Bethen; a village in Niedersachsen, Lower Saxony; in Germany. Tony was coming down under his parachute fairly close to it.

Wreckage Pieces from Hampden. L4049

Wreckage Pieces from Hampden. L4049 (Photo Volker Urbansky, by kind permission).

The village teacher there was a Herr Niemeier, who kept a journal of local events of the Second World War. With regard to Tony’s Hampden crashing he noted the following:

“Evening sorties, wave after wave. It flashed and crashed, rumbled like a storm that passed over us. At about 2 clock in the morning, there crashed an Englishman, down in flames behind a barn. The pilot had been able to save himself by his parachute. Three others burned with the aircraft on the ground. The aircraft was a “Handley Page, Hampden” type.

The rescued pilot met with the hurrying villagers and at first the police missed him. The square was cordoned off. In the afternoon the charred corpse remains were placed in a coffin. The aircraft wreckage was towed. No one suspected that beneath the aircraft was still a 250kg bomb. In cleaning up the crash site it was discovered with horror. The next day it was taken by a task force (further into the same field) and was exploded. The crater after was 5-6m deep. It had a circumference of about 40 steps”. 

(Author’s note: Herr Niemeier’s journal entry was tidied up a little by me, but only where strictly necessary, as the direct translation from German rendered some of the phrasing a little confused).

There stood Tony, somewhat incongruously, with his parachute bundled in his arms, amid all the commotion he’d caused; till he was finally found and arrested by the local Police. They in turn handed him over to the military authorities to be taken away for interrogation.

POW card front

Tony’s POW Card (Photo courtesy of Frances Leach).

He was taken to the main interrogation centre at Oberursel; a holding centre where he was questioned, photographed and fingerprinted. A special note about his distinctive freckles was also recorded on his personal details. When asked during his interrogation, he’d politely and sarcastically given his Mother’s maiden name as “Goring”. The Germans evidently also had trouble with his middle name, which they recorded as “Oslands”. Both “facts” can be seen officially recorded on his POW Identity Card!

POW Card

Tony’s POW Card details (Photo courtesy of Frances Leach).

Back at Scampton, the rest of the pilots waited anxiously. In Enemy Coast Ahead, Guy Gibson recalls how they waited and waited till dawn broke, but their hopes faded as the light grew. “Still we waited……..but Oscar never came back”. Tony and his crew were posted as “Missing: Presumed Killed In Action”. Gibson was devastated by the loss. The next day, the reading of Tony’s Will took place in the mess. Gibson recalled being struck by the overwhelming realization that he was now the last one left, mournfully noting;“All my friends have gone”. Included in that statement of friends lost was Pilot Officer Francis “Watty” Watson DFC, his own Navigator/Bomb Aimer. Watson had flown some 20 ops with Gibbo, including the ones when they’d hit the balloon cable and when they’d shot down the Dornier. Through careful nurturing, Gibson had turned the man into a first class Navigator and Tony had “pinched him” a couple of sorties ago, after his own Navigator had been wounded. Much to Gibbo’s chagrin, Tony told Gibbo to take the squadron’s newbie in Watson’s place, so Watson was in Tony’s crew over Berlin. The Squadron would remain unaware of Tony’s survival till the Red Cross sent word that he was alive and well, and now a prisoner.

Meanwhile, the Germans were burying the remains of Tony’s crew. Watson, Gorwood and Blatch were buried in a local cemetery. After the war, their bodies would be moved to the Becklingen War Cemetery in Germany, where they remain to this day.

Sources and Acknowledgements (Part 2).

Frances Leach. (Tony Bridgman’s middle Daughter).
Enemy Coast Ahead. By Wing Commander Guy Gibson.
The Authorised Biography of Group Captain John “Joe” Collier. By Simon Gooch.
Herr Volker Urbansky. (For more detailed information about Tony’s crash, details of his crew’s interment and for Herr Niemeier’s journal entry).
https://aviation-safety.net/wikibase/15714
http://www.bomberhistory.co.uk/canal_raids/muenster1940
National Archives; No. 83 Squadron, Operations Record Books, April to September 1940.
Flight Magazine, Service Aviation section, Page 514, June 6th 1940
The London Gazette, May and July 1940.
International Bomber Command Centre, Lincolnshire.
David Costa. (Husband of Judith, Tony Bridgman’s eldest Daughter).
Letters to Tony Bridgman from Dr G. Pearson.

The Hand of Fate and Squadron Leader Anthony O. Bridgman, DFC. (Part 1)

This three part post has been researched and compiled by Mitch Peeke. It is a fascinating story of Sqn. Ldr. Anthony Bridgman DFC who, if fate had dealt a different hand, may well have been in Guy Gibson’s seat when 617 Sqn. attacked the ‘Great Dams’ of the Ruhr. Anthony Bridgman was also in Stalag Luft III at the time of the ‘Wooden Horse’ breakout. His story is incredible, and appears in whole, under Heroic Tales.

My thanks go to Mitch for his remarkable research of Anthony, and to the many people who have contributed to Anthony’s story.

The Hand of Fate and Squadron Leader Anthony O. Bridgman DFC.  (Part One).

By Mitch Peeke.

Squadron Leader Anthony Bridgman DFC, is a name that could have been; and perhaps should have become; a household name from the dark days of World War 2. If you know where to look, you will find him frequently mentioned in the books that were written by his RAF contemporaries. You will find that he is mentioned with affection and with very high regard too, for to them; Bridgman was practically a legend.  But on the night of 23/24th September 1940, whilst returning from a raid on Berlin, the fickle hand of fate intervened and decreed that Anthony Bridgman would not fulfil what was perhaps his destiny: Another man would. That other man was somebody Bridgman knew well, a friend of his in fact;  who would ultimately, daringly and famously, make Anthony Bridgman’s destiny his own. He would do it flying a Lancaster bomber over the Ruhr one moonlit night in May 1943; whilst Anthony Bridgman was a POW, “helping out” as he once succinctly put it, with the preparations for what would soon become known as The Wooden Horse Escape.

Anthony O. Bridgman was born on 4th June 1915 in North Stoke, in the parish of Keynsham,  Somerset; which in turn lies on the River Avon, about four and a half miles North-west of Bath. The only reason he was born there was that he, perhaps inconsiderately, decided to enter the world whilst his parents were paying a rare visit to England. Anthony was born into a family where he would have five siblings and rather distant parents. His Father managed a Tea plantation in Munar, Southern India and as soon as it was possible, baby Anthony was taken there, where he would spend the first five years of his life. As soon as he was able to go, his parents packed him and his brother, Kit; off to Boarding School; Magdalen (pronounced “Maudlin”) College School, Oxford to be exact. Even during the school holidays, he was often “farmed out” to the locals on behalf of his parents. He was destined never to return to India, even after he finished Magdalen, at the age of eighteen.

By the time he was in the Lower 4th  year, he would have been encouraged to take part in the activities of school’s Officer Cadet Unit, (OCU) before joining it became compulsory in the Lower 5th. The school’s cadet unit was at that time divided into Army, Navy and Signals, and Air Force sections. (Today, it is known as the Combined Cadet Force, or CCF. The Navy and Signals section closed comparatively recently, leaving today’s student with just the Army or Air Force sections to choose from). Tony, as he preferred to be called, had become attracted to the idea of flying and it was a dream he would pursue with vigour as an officer cadet right through to his Upper 6th.

Magdalen College School was established in 1480 as part of Oxford University’s Magdalen College. This meant that Tony, as one of the school’s Air Force Officer Cadets, had full access to the Oxford University Air Squadron. In 1933, now aged eighteen, he was to be found actively undergoing flying training, at nearby RAF Abingdon, where Oxford UAS was based.

Learning to fly 1933

Learning to fly 1933 (Photo courtesy of Frances Leach).

The following year, he moved on from Oxford UAS, to N0. 3 Flying Training School at RAF Grantham, for advanced flying training. If there was one thing that the now nineteen year old Tony Bridgman knew for certain, it was that Tea-growing was most definitely not in his blood! He was joining the exclusive ranks of “The Best Flying Club in the World”, as the inter-war RAF was known, and if the truth be known, he was rather enjoying it! In the photo of him taken at RAF Thornaby, he is standing beside a Hawker Hart T, having completed a cross-country exercise as part of his advanced training.

RAF Thornaby in 1934.

RAF Thornaby in 1934. (Photo courtesy of Frances Leach).

On 29th February 1936 (obviously a Leap Year!) Tony, who was already a qualified service pilot of course, gained his Private Pilot’s Licence, No. 9160, after passing the necessary ground exam and a short flying assessment at Brough in East Yorkshire. This is borne out by the address given on his licence; “c/o North Sea Aerial and General Transport Ltd. Brough, East Yorkshire”. North Sea Aerial and General was in fact wholly owned by Blackburn Aircraft Ltd, who had a factory and airfield at Brough. They provided flying training there for RAF and RAFVR pilots, under contract to the Air Ministry. Tony probably had their address put on his new licence as he was about to be given his first posting. There would have been no point in using the address of whichever RAF Station he was posted to, as that could change frequently. Given that the RAF was Tony’s home, it would have made sense to have any correspondence relating to this “pleasure flying only” licence, (renewals etc) sent to the address of the training establishment, which was of course a fixed address. Tony could easily contact them if he needed to. He probably felt that having such a licence might well come in handy, especially later, when he left the Air Force. It was and in fact still is, something service pilots often do.

Private Pilots Licence

Private Pilots Licence (Image courtesy Judith Costa, via Mitch Peeke)

On 23rd March 1936, he was granted a short service commission as an Acting Pilot Officer On Probation in the RAF. On 27th January 1937, 37667 Bridgman, Anthony O; was commissioned as a fully fledged Pilot Officer and posted to 2 Group, Bomber Command. He was sent to 83 Squadron, a day bomber unit then equipped with Hawker Hinds, that was still in the process of being re-formed in their native Scotland; at Turnhouse, near Edinburgh.

83 Squadron was originally formed at Montrose on 7th January, 1917. They were formed as a night bomber unit in the Royal Flying Corps and equipped with the Royal Aircraft Factory’s FE2b and FE2d. After training, the squadron moved to France in March of 1918 and quickly specialised in attacking railway targets, as well as performing vital reconnaissance duties. On April 1st 1918, the RFC was merged with the RNAS to form the Royal Air Force. The motto of what was now 83 Squadron RAF, was “Strike to Defend” and the squadron crest features the Red Deer’s antler, due to the squadron’s connection with Scotland. The antler emblem has six points, which commemorates one outstanding occasion during WW1, when six DFC’s were awarded for one extremely crucial reconnaissance operation.  It was an operation that was successfully completed by six individuals in three aircraft on 14/15th June 1918. Those three aircraft from 83 Squadron were the only Allied aircraft flying; the weather having grounded all others. The antler is outlined in black, which refers to their night flying role.  After WW1, 83 Squadron was disbanded; on the last day of 1919. Now, in 1937, it was being re-formed; due to the RAF’s expansion programme.

83 Squadron Crest.

83 Squadron Crest. (Photo IBCC digital archive, by kind permission).

Upon arrival at Turnhouse, Tony met a group of fellow officers who, over the next four years, were to become more than just squadron mates or friends. Outside of his siblings, the RAF was probably the nearest thing to a family that he now had. Among those he struck up a close friendship with at Turnhouse was Jamie Pitcairn-Hill. Upon introduction, it was a popular RAF practice to be given a nickname, usually based on one’s real name. Jamie’s nickname was “Pit”.

F/L Jamie Pitcairn-Hill.

F/L Jamie Pitcairn-Hill (Photo: Patrick Otter by kind permission).

 

A regular officer, graduate of Halton and then Cranwell and above all, a true Scot; Jamie had played Rugby for the RAF. Asked what the “O” in Anthony O. Bridgman stood for, Tony smiled and said; “Oscar”. But Tony had simply used the code word for the letter O in the phonetic alphabet and for one very simple reason: In reality, the “O” was for “Orlando”; after Sir Orlando Bridgeman. It seems to have been a popular choice for the middle name of boys whose last name was Bridgman/Bridgeman in those days. Either way, it was a name that Tony had disliked intensely from day one. Nobody in the mess questioned his phonetically coded statement and thereafter, Tony was always referred to as “Oscar” Bridgman. Many believed that it really was his middle name.

In April of 1937, another junior officer arrived to join the mess at Turnhouse. Acting Pilot Officer John Collier. Tony, Jamie and John quickly formed a close friendship. John’s nickname had come with him, it was “Joe”.

Flight Lieutenant John Joe Collier.

Flight Lieutenant John Joe Collier (Photo Ringwood and Verwood Rround Table via Mitch Peeke)

With flying their two-seater Hawker Hind biplanes on cross-country flights, formation practice or else dive-bombing practice in the Firth of Forth; then re-living the day’s events in the convivial atmosphere of the mess after dinner, squadron life was pretty easy-going in those days. John Collier later recalled in his memoirs that if you were selected to perform the ground based task of Range Officer during bombing practice, it was pretty much a sunny day by the sea, (albeit with a pair of binoculars, a pen and a score sheet), that you were in for. A hardship indeed!

The Pilots not only formed great bonds with each other, but also with their ground crews and Air Gunners, too; all of whom they relied upon. Pilots often took members of their ground crew up on pleasure flights around the immediate locale and this greatly helped to engender a deep pride in “their aircraft” and “their man” in the ground crews.

On 12th May 1937, not long after John Collier had arrived, the coronation of King George VI was taking place in London. Tony and John somehow managed to wangle last-minute permission (and a three-day pass!) from their C.O, to attend. Dashing off to London, they took in a bit of a detour to RAF Upper Heyford, there to collect one of John’s friends; the dashingly Bohemian, half English/half German Count Manfred Beckett Czernin. (Manfred would later distinguish himself as an RAF Fighter Pilot, particularly during the Battle of Britain).

The three arrived in London in time to be too late for the main event, probably due to their detour, and realized to their horror that in their haste to leave, nobody had thought to bring much in the way of cash! Undeterred, the three officers duly called on Count Czernin’s Mother, obtained the necessary funds and then went out to find a suitable party to invite themselves to! It didn’t take them long to find one and a thoroughly decent time was had by all! Oh, and the new King was crowned as well, apparently!

The start of Tony and Guy.

Guy Gibson VC as Wing Commander 1944. The photo was taken shortly before his death.

Guy Gibson VC as Wing Commander 1944. The photo was taken shortly before his death (Photo: IWM CH13618 Crown Copyright expired).

In September of 1937, yet another junior officer arrived at Turnhouse to join their ranks. Acting Pilot Officer Guy Gibson. He was assigned to the care and tutelage of Pilot Officer Tony Bridgman, in A Flight, but when Gibson arrived, he already had something of a blot on his copybook: A for Attitude.

The young Guy Gibson has been described as being something of “an acquired taste”. Gibson came from a remarkably similar family background as Tony had, but where Tony’s parents had been distinctly distant, Gibson’s parents had added a further dimension to distant parenting. Like Tony, Gibson was born to Colonial parents in India, but his Mother and Father separated when he was just six. His Mother took the children and returned to England, but sadly she also took to drinking and became increasingly abusive and bullying toward her children. As she descended into alcoholism, her treatment of her children worsened and Guy was more or less taken into care via his school. It may have been this factor that had led the young Gibson to adopt a very condescending attitude toward his ground crews.

In the Officer’s Mess, he was called “Gibbo” and despite his perhaps being an acquired taste, Tony, Jamie and John happily accepted Guy into their circle of friendship. It would fall principally to Tony, as Gibson’s supervising officer, to smooth off the rather immature Gibson’s rough edges.

At the end of June 1937, John Collier was promoted to Full Pilot Officer and 83 Squadron got a new CO. Squadron Leader Leonard Snaith, a former member of the victorious 1931 Schneider Trophy Team, had arrived to take up command. The pilots of 83 Squadron felt justly proud of their new CO.

On 16th November 1937, Guy Gibson was also promoted to the rank of Full Pilot Officer. This elevation in status and responsibility though, did little to curb his attitude toward the lower ranks. He could still be pretty obnoxious, to his ground crews in particular, and there was still little sign that his attitude toward them was changing. Though known as “Gibbo” to his fellow officers, Gibson was now known to his ground crews as “the Bumptious Bastard”. This was something that could not be allowed to continue and changes were coming.

Nothing much changed immediately, though. During the Winter of 1937/38, the squadron practised attacking such vitally important targets as Tilbury Docks and Worthy Down. A “bracing” practice to say the least, dressed up as they were, very much like their RFC predecessors and flying an equally antiquated, open cockpit biplane. As the Spring of 1938 came, so too did a slow-growing tension with Hitler’s New Germany.

Changes.

Hawker Hinds of 83 Squadron at RAF Scampton, 1938.

Hawker Hinds of 83 Squadron at RAF Scampton, 1938 (Photo: http://www.raf-in-combat.By kind permission).

On 14th March, 1938, the first big change came. The squadron “upped sticks” from 2 Group and Turnhouse and moved South, to RAF Scampton in Lincolnshire. They were now part of 5 Group, Bomber Command and were sharing Scampton with 49 Squadron. Soon, they would also be saying goodbye to their Hawker Hinds as 83 Squadron, like their comrades of 49 Squadron, were about to be modernised. Between March and May of 1938, Pilots, Air Gunners and ground crews were all sent off in batches to different stations for armaments, technical, gunnery and other courses. All books, cramming for exams and no flying!

On 20th May 1938, Tony was made Acting Flying Officer and on 27th August that same year, having proved his worth, he was duly promoted to the rank of Flying Officer. He was also now the Acting Flight Commander of A Flight. His friend John Collier was made Acting Flight Commander of B Flight. 83 Squadron were gearing up for war.

However, the tensions with Hitler were seemingly resolved that September by the Munich Agreement. “Peace for our time” declared a jubilant Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, as he stepped off the Imperial Airways airliner at London’s Croydon Airport. But it was an uneasy peace, obtained at the betrayal of Czechoslovakia, that Chamberlain had in fact won.

With the political tensions eased, at least for now, the Pilots started their aircraft conversion courses. They converted onto the Bristol Blenheim to start with, as 83 Squadron were going to be re-equipped with the new Handley-Page Hampden; a (fairly) fast, twin engined, monoplane medium bomber carrying a crew of four, soon to be dubbed “The Flying Suitcase” by its crews.

The Flying Suitcase

The Hampden was a rather peculiar aircraft. It was designed by a German, Gustav Lachmann. It was very long and slim, much like the German Dornier 17, in the crew section particularly. The Hampden had a maximum speed of 260mph, a theoretical maximum bomb load of 4,000lbs and carried a crew of four.

Internally, the aircraft was rather cramped, being only about three feet wide. Up front, on the lower part of the stepped deck, with his own personal entrance/exit, was the Navigator/Bomb Aimer.  Aft on the lower section, also with his own personal entrance/exit, was the aft-facing Ventral gunner. Between these two crew positions, was the aircraft’s Bomb bay.

On the upper stepped level of the deck sat the Pilot, with the aft-facing Wireless Operator/Dorsal gunner some ten feet or so behind him.  Boarding the aircraft, the Wireless Operator/Dorsal gunner had to climb in first, much in the manner of a Fighter Pilot; up onto the wing (via a ground crew ladder) then climb in through the pilot’s sliding canopy to clamber through to his position. Once inside, it was his job to fold the back of the pilot’s seat up, so that the pilot could then clamber aboard in the same fashion to take his seat in the cockpit.

Pilot's cockpit of the Handley Page Hampden.

Pilot’s cockpit of the Handley Page Hampden (Photo: IWM CH1207. Crown copyright expired).

The pilot’s cockpit (or “Office” as it was usually called) was a very busy place. He had literally every control for the aircraft in front of and around him. There was also a fixed, forward firing gun which, (if he had any spare time!) the pilot could use. Moving about inside the cramped interior of a Hampden with a parachute strapped on, was practically impossible. Trying to get out of a Hampden in an emergency, frankly; didn’t bear thinking about too much.

In October, once conversion training was completed, the new aircraft had to be collected from the factory by their crews and flown back to Scampton. Thereafter, a friendly rivalry began to develop, not only between 49 Squadron and 83 Squadron, but also between  A Flight and B Flight of 83 Squadron; in everything from flying prowess to drunken partying!

As Gibson later recalled in Enemy Coast Ahead, they were “forever putting it across B Flight.” Hi-Jinks in the Mess, pranks, drinking games, but above all; flying. With John Collier in B Flight, and Tony Bridgman, Jamie Pitcairn-Hill and Guy Gibson in A Flight, Tony began surreptitiously using this inter-Flight rivalry to smooth out some of Gibson’s less admirable traits. Gibson was competitive to say the least and it was this trait that Tony tapped into. In flying, Tony first began nurturing Gibson’s considerable piloting skills, by supplementing them with his own. He was sharpening and focusing Gibson’s daring side, yet carefully imbuing in his protogee a sense of respect for his crews, both Air and Ground. Having achieved that aim, he started pushing Gibson little by little as a pilot, by making Gibson compete with him, in a “anything you can do, I can do better”, style.

The Hampden, never the most beautiful of aeroplanes, was still something quite new, revolutionary almost, for pilots who were used to biplanes. For a twin-engined bomber type, the Hampden could almost be flown like a fighter, if you were a good enough pilot; which Tony knew of course, was something that Gibson was just so itching to prove that he was. Flying the Hampden in such a manner was something that both of them would later prove was quite possible.

Tony often said that he’d always felt Gibson wanted to be famous for something and Gibson himself made no secret of the fact that he wanted to win a VC, somehow. The friendly rivalry between A Flight and B Flight not only greatly strengthened the camaraderie of each Flight and the bond between the four friends at the head of it, but also helped to firmly bolster the brotherhood of the squadron’s officers. Flying hard together, training hard together and partying hard together, theirs was a fraternity that each would come to rely on over the coming two years, as the clouds of war were ominously forming for all to see. On August 31st 1939, telegrams were sent out to all officers on leave: “Return to unit immediately”.

War!

The balloon finally went up on Sunday 3rd September 1939; as with a heavy, leaden tone, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain announced to the nation over the wireless, that Britain was once more at war with Germany. The “World’s Best Flying Club” was suddenly forced to closed its peacetime doors and that hitherto carefree life now came to an abrupt end. Flying Officer Tony Bridgman and 83 Squadron would be in action from day one of the conflict.

That Sunday morning of 3rd September 1939, saw the boys of A Flight gathered in their Flight Commander’s office. Guy Gibson gave a wonderful description of that momentous morning, not only of the setting but also of his Flight Commander; Tony Bridgman, in Enemy Coast Ahead.  They had just finished their morning Tea, which had been brought to them by a girl from the NAAFI, and the room was full of palpable tension and cigarette smoke.

“There Oscar Bridgman, the Flight Commander, sat with his hat to the back of his head, his feet up on the table and his chair looking liable to fall over backwards at any minute. He was a tremendous character was Oscar. He had a quick temper, but could fly as well as any man. I could never wish for a better Flight Commander and we were all right behind him”. In reading those and his next few sentences, one is acutely struck by the maturity of his attitude and the reverence with which he described not only Tony. There were others present that Gibson noted: “…Mulligan and Ross (we used to call them Mull and Rossy), two Australian boys who joined us back in 1937. They did practically everything together. Sometimes they would have long heated arguments which were the amusement of the whole Flight.”

However, it is his next paragraph that is perhaps the most telling. Gibson recalled that the Flight Sergeant in charge of maintenance (known to one and all as “Chiefy”) came in to report that all aircraft were ready for flight testing. Gibson continues: “Great fellow was F/Sgt Langford…I could write a lot about the ground crews. They are wonderful men and do a really hard job of work for very little pay; only their pride in their squadrons keeping them going.” So wrote Wing Commander Guy Gibson in the Winter of 1943/44. The “Bumptious Bastard” was by then no more; and that was very largely due to Tony Bridgman’s influence and leadership. In fact, it would not be long at all before Gibson would be taking care to nurture his own crews, just as Tony had shown him, by example.

With Chamberlain’s announcement over, Tony inhaled his cigarette deeply, then blew the smoke out through his nose. Turning to his assembled Flight, he said: “Well, boys, this is it. You’d better all pop out and test your aeroplanes. Be back in half an hour’s time. There will probably be a job for you to do.” As it turned out, there wasn’t. After flight testing, the crews all had lunch. They were all called to the lecture hall over the Tannoy, but it was for a brief talk from the Station Commander about the situation. It was the next day that the squadron was called to action.

Tony with P/O Powell. Taken at Scampton in 1939

Tony with P/O Powell. Taken at Scampton in 1939 (Photo courtesy of Frances Leach).

On that first day proper of the war, confusion was rife. People were seeing enemy aircraft where there were none and the same went for enemy warships. 83 squadron were required to provide six aircraft; three from A Flight and three from B Flight. As Squadron Leader Snaith was going to lead the raid himself, his Senior Flight Commander; Tony Bridgman,  would be remaining on the ground. His job would be holding the Fort or leading if another operation was required whilst Snaith and Co were out on this one.

Snaith chalked up the two other crews from A Flight as being those of Rossy and Gibbo. Joe Collier would lead the three from B Flight. Each aircraft was armed with four 500lb bombs with the fuzes set at eleven and a half seconds delay. “So we can come in pretty low”, Snaith told them. The targets were possible German Battleships anchored in Schillig Roads at the entrance to the Kiel Canal. Snaith continued: “If by chance there are no Battleships there, you may bomb the ammunition depot at Marienhof, but under NO circumstances are you to bomb civilian areas or houses”. Initially, this was to be a gentlemanly war, it seemed. Take off was at 15:30, the weather was expected to be bad with low cloud and they were told to watch out for balloon cables. The balloons themselves would be hidden in the clouds. Prime target was the Battleship Admiral Scheer. If she was there.

In the event, the sortie was a washout. All they found was a lot of very low cloud, a choppy and murky-looking sea and fast fading light. No Admiral Scheer, in fact no warships of any kind. Disappointed yet possibly slightly relieved, they brought their bombs back to Scampton.

What followed now was a long period of ennui. The Autumn weather soon arrived and militarily, nothing much was happening. The period known as “The Phoney War” to the British and “Sitzkrieg” to the Germans, had set in. 83 Squadron contented themselves with further training, including night flying. They may not necessarily have welcomed it, but in truth, they needed it.

On 3rd December 1939, three months exactly since the outbreak of war, Tony was promoted to the rank of Flight Lieutenant and was now the actual senior Flight Commander, not the acting one. There was excitement later that month when someone had evidently started seeing German warships again. This time it was the Lutzow they were sent forth to hunt. Taking off at short notice, the squadron raced out to sea; North-east, toward the Norwegian coast. Nearly eight hours later, they returned having yet again seen nothing but a great expanse of grey sea, grey cloud and their own breath condensing inside their frigid aircraft. Handley-Page it seemed, had not deemed an internal heating system to be necessary for the Hampden’s crew compartments. Either that or they’d simply left themselves with no room to install it!

The only other bit of excitement for the squadron was when John “Joe” Collier got married on 30th December, to his fiancée of two months; Miss Elizabeth Julia Bishop. Collier’s best man was Jamie Pitcairn-Hill. It was perhaps somewhere around this time that Tony had started seeing Elizabeth’s sister; Virginia.

The Winter of 1939/40 was a harsh one with heavy snowfalls. Not much good for flying. In the meantime, improvements such as armour plating and self-sealing fuel tanks were being fitted to the Hampdens. Still no crew heating though!

With so much in the way of bad weather keeping both of Scampton’s squadrons grounded, the older officers on the base, some of whom had seen action in WW1, did what they used to do back then: Gather round the piano and sing songs. There were the old favourites such as The Bold Aviator, I don’t want to join the Air Force and of course newer songs like He had to go and Prang her in the Hangar and The Flamin’ Firth o’ Flamin’ Forth. With 83 and 49 Squadrons both having their roots in the RFC, each had their own “War Cry”, too. With battle lines drawn from each end of the Mess, and trying to outdo each other for sheer volume: “Up the Forty-Ninth!” and “It’s not Eigh-ty-one, it’s not Eigh-ty-two; It’s EIGHT-TEE THREEE!” was loudly chanted by each beer-fuelled squadron’s officers, before they all “sallied forth” into the fray, hell-bent on the “de-bagging” of their respective opponents!

In his book, Guy Gibson recalls one, though somewhat less livelier, evening in the middle of January. “One night Oscar Bridgman came howling with laughter into the Mess. It was unlike Oscar to howl with laughter, so we asked him what was wrong. He could hardly speak. ‘Go into the Billiard-Room’ he said, ‘and see what I have seen’. Quickly we went along, and there a sight met our eyes that made us almost collapse. Three Padres were sitting solemnly around a piano, each with a glass of beer in his hand, each one looking very serious. They were singing ‘Here’s to the next one to die’ !”

With the weather abating, training resumed in February. Blind flying using radio beams was included. This was not exactly “new” as the system was the commercial pre-war German Lorenz System for blind approach and landing, but it was useful.

Spot of Gardening, anyone?!

As the Spring came, both 49 and 83 Squadrons turned to Gardening when the weather permitted. No, they hadn’t all developed green fingers with the Phoney War’s boredom. “Gardening” was the code name for a fairly dangerous pastime; one which both squadrons would become specialists in.

The “Back Room Boys” or “Boffins” as they were usually known, had been very busy refining the design of a new German, Air-dropped Magnetic Mine. One had kindly made itself available by obligingly washing up on a beach and after some brave soul had successfully managed to defuse the Hadean device, it was taken away to be thoroughly investigated. Not only did the Scientists quickly come up with a counter measure, they greatly refined the mine itself and the RAF now took on the job of returning the favour to the Germans.

The refined British version weighed in at 1,700lbs; just under half of the Hampden’s absolute maximum load, but the mines were physically rather large so each aircraft could only carry one of them.  The mine had to be planted accurately and its position marked on a chart. It also had to be dropped from very low altitude on a parachute, to ensure the accuracy of its placement, in areas known to be shipping lanes in and out of enemy harbours. Each mine was referred to as a “Vegetable” and each area was called a “Garden”. In turn, each Garden had its own code name, such as “Carrot” or “Cabbage”. Even flower names were used, such as “Daffodil” or “Hollyhock”.

With the sudden German invasion of Denmark and Norway, 83 Squadron started “Planting” their vegetables in gardens such as the Baltic approaches to Kiel or Harbour entrances on the Danish Coast. Anything to disrupt enemy shipping, Naval or Merchant. At that time, there really wasn’t any kind of overall bombing strategy in place. The type of operations were decided at Group level but the details of who, when and where, were decided at Squadron level. On Chamberlain’s order, non-military targets were strictly off limits. The phrase “There must be no danger of hitting Private Property” became an RAF euphemism for “not killing civilians”.

So, with nothing much in the way of detailed operational orders coming down from “on high”, it was quite common for Pilots to “go off and do a spot of gardening”. Pilots planned their own routes, take off times, etc. They filed their flight plans and if there were no objections, off they went. 83 Squadron’s monthly Operations Record Books start to feature such operations from around the last days of March 1940. Comments such as “Four aircraft detailed for Gardening operations. Carrot successfully planted. All aircraft returned safely” almost begin to appear routinely thereafter.

Tony's escape map

Section of one of Tony’s RAF escape maps. Designed to be sewn into the lining of aircrew Flying Jackets, these maps were printed on incredibly thin, silk-reinforced paper. They were issued to aircrew operating over enemy territory in case they were shot down (Courtesy Judy Costa).

With Sweden being neutral, a lot of pilots on gardening trips would cross the North Sea and turn onto the heading for their dropping run, by finding a suitable Swedish landmark to go from. The Swedish coast was lit up like a Christmas Tree, which made their job a lot easier. Initially, the Germans didn’t seem to realize exactly what these nocturnal low-flying singleton aircraft were up to either, presumably because they seemed to be coming from neutral Sweden. It wasn’t till later, as France was falling, that the Germans; rather un-sportingly it was felt, deployed Flak ships out in the Roads.

Occasionally though, the weather over the garden prevented planting. In which case, the pilots were under strict instructions to bring their vegetable back or to dump it well out into deep water. Under NO circumstances was one of those mines to be allowed to fall into enemy hands. As far as was known, the Germans hadn’t realized that the British knew about their new magnetic mine, let alone that they had devised a counter measure to it and refined the design. Any successes the British sown mines were known to have had were never made public either, for the same reasons.

In between sorties, squadron life now tended to consist of horseplay, drinking and high jinks. Guy Gibson’s book is laced with rich stories of such capers, which usually occurred as a result of Tony Bridgman “taking over” a pub and getting Gibson to drive them all there, with far too many people crammed into his car!

Gardening however, was not the only type of operation that 83 Squadron undertook. “Ploughing” was another. This was a low-level, hit-and-run strike. A sneak attack, where the objective was to “Plough the field, then scatter”! It was one such raid that would win Tony Bridgman his DFC.

Sources and Acknowledgements (Part 1):
Frances Leach (Tony Bridgman’s middle Daughter).
www.rafcommands.com/archive
Howard Eastcott, for locating Frances Leach and for some background information on Tony.
http://www.mcsoxford.org/history Modern website of Tony’s old school.
The Authorised Biography of Group Captain John “Joe” Collier. By Simon Gooch.
Enemy Coast Ahead. By Wing Commander Guy Gibson.
National Archives; No 83 Squadron, Operations Record Books, February, March and April 1940.
www.warfactory.com  Specs for the Handley-Page HP52 Hampden Mk 1.
The Airman’s Song Book by C. H. Ward-Jackson. Published 1945.
Most Secret War by Professor R V Jones.
David Costa. (Husband of Judith, Tony Bridgman’s eldest Daughter).
Letters to Tony Bridgman from Dr G. Pearson.

RAF Sedgeford – Operational during two World Wars.

In this new addition to Trail 20, we visit a former airfield whose history not only stems back to the First World War, but is deeply rooted in it. Between the wars it lay dormant, and then sprang into life once more, as military activity in Norfolk increased during the 1940s.  Known under four different names, and controlled by three different branches of the armed forces, we visit an airfield that has been the subject of one of Britain’s largest archaeological digs in recent years. Situated east of the coastal resort of Heacham in Norfolk, it now forms the first airfield on our tour in Trail 20. We start the Trail at the former RAF Sedgeford.

RAF Sedgeford

Also known as RFC Sedgeford,  RNAS Sedgeford or Sedgeford Aerodrome, the airfield lies just outside of the village from which it takes its name, and on the south side of the B1454 Docking Road.

Sedgeford originally opened as a First World War airfield during the latter half of 1915 as Royal Naval Air Station (RNAS) Sedgeford. It was initially a Class 1 night landing ground (NLG) for the main base at Great Yarmouth (South Denes) much further to the east on East Anglia’s North Sea Coast.

The Royal Naval Air Service were themselves a fledgling service, being formed only a year earlier in July 1914, after the naval wing of the Royal Flying Corps (RFC) was removed from RFC control, being placed under the jurisdiction of the Admiralty. At their time of formation the RNAS had on its books some fifty-five seaplanes (inc. ship-borne aircraft); forty aeroplanes; seven airships; 111 officers and 544 men*1.

With aviation very much in its infancy, the RNAS had been using mainly airships, and were only just beginning to venture into aeroplanes as a means of fighting a war. With a range of airfields in the area including both RFC Holt and RFC Bacton (NLG), it also used Ludham (HMS Flycatcher), Pulham (an airship station), Hickling Road (a seaplane airfield), Lowestoft (a balloon site) and Great Yarmouth (South Denes which was a mixed use airfield for home defence and marine operations). From these humble beginnings, the RNAS were to become a strong force during the First World War.

With the might of the Zeppelin ruling the skies, it wasn’t long before the first attacks were made along the North Norfolk coast, ranging from Great Yarmouth to Kings Lynn. These attacks, and continuing intruder flights by Zeppelins, called for a much greater aerial protection of East Anglia. It was this call that led to the creation of not only Sedgeford but also Aldeburgh, Bacton, Holt, Narborough (which later became Norfolk’s first military airfield) and Burgh Castle as active airfields operating armed flying units*2.

During the early part of 1916, RNAS Sedgeford was transferred across to the RFC (themselves only formed on 13th April 1912) and used as a training station. The site was developed with further buildings added, eventually gaining eleven canvassed Bessonneaux hangars, two more permanent General Service Sheds, a range of buildings suitable for aircraft repair and maintenance, barrack huts, MT (motor transport) sheds and even a locomotive shed fed by a branch line to the main Hunstanton and West Norfolk Railway a mile or so to the north. Sedgeford would develop into a substantial sized airfield with some 100 buildings accommodating over 1,200 personnel including WRENs and WRAFs. Whilst the overall dimensions of the site cannot be confirmed, it is thought that the airfield covered around 170 acres.

The WRAFs, (known affectionately as ‘Penguins,’ because they didn’t fly) were often found working in aircraft doping sheds repairing aircraft fabrics using a potentially harmful ‘dope’ containing an acetate solvent. The fumes from this solvent were known to be lethal in large doses, with many of those using it on a regular basis, feeling ill or in extreme cases, dying from the effects of its toxic fumes. To combat the problem, some First World War doping sheds had extractor fans built into them to remove these hazardous fumes, and at Sedgeford, evidence has been found (by the Sedgeford Historical and Archaeological Research Project), that confirms their use here.

Over the next few years Sedgeford would house a number of flying units, both training and ‘operational’ whilst preparing to move to France. The first of these (No. 45 Squadron) arrived on 21st May 1916 operating the Bristol BE.2b, an aircraft that they had been using since April at Thetford. Over the next five months, 45 Sqn would take on three other aircraft types: the Henry Farman F.20, (June to August), Royal Aircraft Factory FE.2b (July to Sept) and lastly the Sopwith 1 1/2 Strutter (July to Sept 1917); the first British aeroplane to have synchronised guns firing through a two bladed propeller. The rather odd name was given to the aircraft because of the unusual ‘half-struts’ that attached the wings to the fuselage.

Sopwith 1 1/Strutter (unknown photographer via Wikipedia.)

In August 1916, 45 Sqn was broken up, with the nucleus being used to form a new squadron here at Sedgeford – No. 64 Sqn. The remainder of No. 45 Sqn then prepared for France, a move it made two months later.

No. 64 Sqn continued using the Henry Farman F.20s that had previously been allocated to them, but over time, they too would use a variety of aircraft types including: the Royal Aircraft Factory BE.2c and FE.2b, Sopwith’s famous Pup, the Avro 504 and the de Havilland DH5.

Then on February 1st 1917, 64 Sqn was itself then split, the demand for new pilots and new squadrons increasing as the conflict entered its third gruesome year. From this split, another new squadron was born, No. 53 Reserve Squadron, who were  themselves re-designated as No. 53 Training Squadron on 31st May 1917, and operated models such as the RE.8, BE.2c, Avro 504J and the DH.6. They would eventually leave Sedgeford and end their days at Harlaxton where they were disbanded and merged into another unit.

Although many of these pilots were ‘experienced’, being in training meant there were of course accidents, many taking the lives of the young men who had been drawn to the thrill of flying. One such pilot, twenty year old Sec. Lt. Arthur Le Roy Dean, was killed when his Sopwith ‘Pup’ (official name Scout) #B1788 spun into the ground whilst flying with 64 Sqn on August 8th 1917. He initially survived the crash only to die from his injuries the following day.

RAF Sedgeford

The grave of Second Lieutenant Arthur Dean RFC.

The 9th would prove to be a black day for 64 Sqn, after they lost a second pilot, Canadian Lt. Edward Gordon Hanlan, who was killed when his DH.5 (#A9393) crashed following a wing failure whilst performing a loop over the airfield at nearby Bircham Newton.

September 1917 would prove to be a busy month for both Sedgeford airfield and the many airmen stationed there. On the 15th, another new unit arrived to join 64 Sqn. They too were a new squadron, only being formed a few days earlier at Upavon. No. 87 Sqn, remained at Sedgeford for just three months prior to moving to Hounslow before themselves moving across to St. Omer in France, which was rapidly becoming the hub of the Royal Flying Corp in continental Europe.

This month was the penultimate month of 64’s stay at Sedgeford, and prior to them leaving for France another Sopwith Pup (#B1787) would take the life of its pilot, 2Lt. Francis Brian Hallam Anderson (aged 19) who, like Sec. Lt. Dean, survived the actual crash only to succumb to his injuries and die several days later on the 8th. Flying these lightweight aircraft was not proving to be easy.

By mid October (14th), orders to move had come through, and 64 Squadron packed its bags – they were on their way to France taking their DH5s to St. Omer.  St. Omer being the very place the parent squadron (No. 45 Sqn) had moved to almost a year to the day previously. The many faces of 45 Sqn surely being different to those that departed a year before.

It was in France that 64 Sqn’s Acting Captain Flt, Lt. James A. Slater MC., DFC. would go on to be the Sqn’s top ace achieving 22 kills, which when added to the two he achieved with No. 1 Sqn, gave him a total of 24 kills. His determination and expertise in the air earning him both the DFC and Military Cross (with Bar) which was Gazetted in the London Gazette Supplement published on February 1st 1918*3*4.

The beginning of November 1917 would see another short lived unit arrive at this Norfolk site, and it would be the brief reuniting of two sister units.

Both No. 72 Sqn and No. 87 Sqn, had their roots firmly fixed in the same place – the Central Flying School at Upavon; 87 being formed from the resident ‘D’ Flight whilst 72 were formed from ‘A’ Flight. Whilst they perhaps enjoyed a momentary annexation, it would not last long before they would all depart and go their separate ways for good. Whilst 87 Sqn moved to the cold winter of France, No. 72 Sqn would take their Pups to the much warmer Persian Gulf and onto Basra and Baghdad, where they stayed until the war’s end.

Sedgeford was rapidly becoming a major player in the RFC’s continued development, with yet another new unit arriving here the same month they were formed – No. 110 Sqn. They too would be another relatively short stay unit, and again, operating a number of different aircraft types. Formed on November 1st, they were created out of the nucleus of 38 Training Squadron at Rendcomb, and stopped off at Dover on their way to Sedgeford. By June 1918, they were on their way again, moving to Kenley in Surrey, a station that would become famous in the Second World War as a fighter airfield.

Within days of 110 Sqn’s arrival, pilot James Alan Pearson was killed following a flying accident at Sedgeford. Pearson, who was from Chesterfield, had only joined the RFC in August that same year, transferring from South Farnborough, to Winchester, Oxford and then Hendon, where he joined No. 19 Training Squadron on September 19th, 1917. On November 19th, he completed his probationary period and was confirmed as a Temporary Second Lieutenant upon which, he was posted to No. 110 Sqn, at Sedgeford, just after the main squadron arrived at the busy Norfolk airfield.

His death came within a matter of days of his arrival, some references stating he ‘blacked out’, whilst other say his aircraft, a Martinsyde Elephant (#B866), broke apart. No doubt, both actions resulted from a steep dive from which Pearson never recovered. During the dive, and probable breakup of the aeroplane, Pearson was thrown out of the cockpit, unaided or not conscious, he failed to survive the fall. His official service record (AIR 76/396/34) simply states ‘Killed as result of aero accident‘, the short few entries showing how limited, at 18 years old, his experience was.

RAF Sedgeford

The grave of 18 yr old, Sec. Lt. James A. Pearson at St. Mary’s Church, Docking, who was killed within four months of joining the RFC.

As the war turned to another year and the winter of 1917/18 dragged on, New Year’s day 1918, would see No. 110 Sqn joined by another newly formed unit, No. 122 Sqn, who whilst  initially operating a range of aircraft, were earmarked to receive the de Havilland DH.9.  However, the transition would not go smoothly and it would ultimately result in the squadron’s demise.

Both 110 and 122 Sqns were assigned to go to France, 110 Sqn leaving on 15th June 1918 initially to Kenley before Bettoncourt to the south of Nancy in France, whilst No. 122 Sqn were to be sent to Hamble (which became the more prominent Upper Hayford post World War Two) where they were to take on the DH.9s before also moving to the continent.

However, the unit was disbanded whilst still as a training unit at Sedgeford on the day prior to its move on 17th August 1918. No. 122 was then reformed at Hamble, but further plans stalled as the DH.9 was replaced by the DH.10 and a delay in allocation prevented the reformed squadron from its final activation. With the war’s end and no further requirement seen for the squadron, the process then halted, and in November 1918, the squadron was disbanded for good .

With the war in Europe now over, the withdrawal of squadrons from France began and units started the long journey home. Sedgeford would continue to host some of these units, continuing to perform their role as a training airfield. Even at this point, expansion of the airfield was still occurring but the future for Sedgeford was not bright.

At the end of 1918, No 3 Fighting School (FS) (who had been formed at nearby Bircham Newton) arrived at Sedgeford. Being a former Aerial Fighting and Gunnery School, it operated a number of different aircraft types including: Pups, a range of de Havilland models, Dolphins, Camels and Handley Page 0/400s. Perhaps now, as the war was over, a lapse in concentration may have been the cause of a New Year’s misadventure, when on January 24th 1919, two Sopwith Camels collided over Sedgeford airfield. Camel #C8318 flown by Capt. Cecil Frederick King MC., DFC., was in collision with #H2724 flown by Lt Hector Daniel MC.

Capt. King, who had been wounded in France, had been awarded not only the Military Cross in April 1918, but also the Distinguished Flying Cross in August 1918 along with the Croix de Guerre. Incredibly he was just short of his 19th birthday. Lt Daniel (a South African), survived the accident, and also achieved the Military Cross along with the Air Force Cross in July 1918 and June 1919 respectively.*5

RAF Sedgeford

The grave of Capt. Cecil Frederick King MC., DFC, Croix de Guerre

The wind down was slow at Sedgeford, but March 1919 would see two major changes at the airfield. Firstly, on the 14th, No. 3 FS was disbanded, reforming as No. 7 Training Squadron (TS), who continued in the training role at Sedgeford. By October though, with cutbacks in the pipeline, it would no longer be required and so operations were curtailed, and it was finally disbanded.

Secondly, the end of March saw the arrival of a cadre of No. 13 Sqn with RE.8s. Their journey to Sedgeford had taken them around the many battlefields of France over the last three years, the skies of Norfolk must have been a more than welcome break for the young pilots.

As more and more units were disbanded, Sedgeford too would feel the bite. On New Year’s Eve 1919/20, orders were received and subsequently carried out, to disband the last remaining squadron at the airfield, and with this, the end of Sedgeford as a flying base was now signalled.

The interwar years saw many of the buildings removed, many being sold off or demolished, but fortunately some remained, falling into disrepair or put to agricultural use. What remained of the airfield was left in a dormant state, fading bit by bit. But, the 1930s increase in international tensions would be the saviour of Sedgeford, as war once again reared its ugly head. This time however, it would not be as an operational airfield with the usual buzz and activity it was once so used to, this time it would be a much quieter decoy site.

With so many strategic airfields located in East Anglia, and with the extended development of Bircham Newton as few miles away, the protection of these sites was paramount.  The war of deception created the dummy airfield, with the sole purpose of diverting the Luftwaffe bombers away from the real airfield located nearby. Sedgeford was seen as a suitable location for such a site, the few remaining buildings being partly representative of a wartime airfield. With a little development and appropriate lighting added, Sedgeford  became one such site, the remaining buildings being utilised to create an image of activity one would expect to see on an active airfield.

RAF Sedgeford

The airfield today is far different from the one used in World War One.

These decoy sites were the brainchild of Colonel John Fisher Turner, a retired Officer from the Air Ministry who had turned his hand to film work and special effects. Working with a team of tradesmen and engineers, they produced life-like aircraft, vehicles, boats and buildings using canvas, wood and other lightweight materials that when viewed from the air, look like the real thing. With lights added to give the impression of runway lighting, fires and vehicles, it proved to be a major coup in the war against the Luftwaffe. Designated as both a ‘Q’ (night time) and ‘K’ (day time) decoy station, Sedgeford was operational between June 1940 and August 1942, after which time the larger threat of bombing had sub-sided.

Sedgeford had a small number of operators on site to perform the deception, and because they were to attract enemy attention, they were provided with a shelter, the bulk of which still exists on the site today. After this, Sedgeford was finally closed down and  returned to agricultural use once more. A state it has remained in ever since.

The airfield’s site is located just outside of the village, a gate and long path indicate the original entrance to the site. This path was once lined with First World War buildings, none of which remain today. The actual airfield itself is now an agricultural field, the railway spur that led from the main line has also gone, as has the main line itself. From the public road there are sadly no indications of the significance of this once historic site.

RAF Sedgeford

The main entrance and long road into former RAF Sedgeford. The field to the left would have had several buildings along it. The buildings remaining today are located beyond the forest on the horizon.

Along from the airfield toward the village of Docking, is another private dwelling that was also known to have been used as a billet for Sedgeford’s airmen. Formally the Union Workhouse it dates back to 1835 and was one of the largest workhouses in Norfolk at that time. Intended to hold up to 450 people, it rarely had more than 100 at any one time. The RFC took over the building in 1916 handing it back at the war’s end.

Since 2009 the Sedgeford Historical and Archaeological Research Project (SHARP) has carried out a huge excavation of the site at Sedgeford, uncovering a number of foundations and links to Sedgeford’s aviation history. Some of these buildings include the mortuary and Officers quarters, with its very ornate fireplace, and the World War 2 shelter mentioned previously. These are all firmly on private land hidden in a small wood around which the majority of the technical buildings were originally erected. Access to these sites is understandably only with permission, something I didn’t have on the day. The project, which has been carried out yearly, also uncovered numerous building foundations and a track for a hangar door. Substantial information being gleaned from the various digs being carried out over the years.

The types of buildings remaining at Sedgeford, especially the First World War examples, make this quite a unique site. So few buildings exist from this era, Stow Maries being the only other site with examples of any quality. This, along with the many deaths and sacrifices witnessed by Sedgeford, make it both historically and architecturally significant, and as such, perhaps the site should be protected.

The history of Sedgeford is extraordinary. Many of those who passed through its doors were teenagers, some lasted only weeks, whilst others went on to fly for years performing acts of great bravery and daring. But one thing that draws them all together was the thrill of flying in an era were flight was new and boundaries were unknown. Their bravery and courage should be remembered.

Sedgeford airfield had sadly all but passed into the history books, but recent excavations have given new life to this once significant site, and maybe one day, these will be given public status, and the memories of those who served and died here will live again.

This recognition took a step forward when on 21st July 1918 the Airfields of Britain Conservation Trust erected a memorial at Sedgeford. The report can be seen on both Your Local Paper website, and the ABCT website along with videos of the day and interviews with SHARP members.

From Sedgeford we continue with Trail 20, and travel east toward Docking, stopping off at St. Mary’s Church, before travelling a few miles further to the former airfield RAF Docking.

Sources and further reading.

*1 Fleet Air Arm Officers Association Website accessed 10/8/2019

*2 Gunn. P. “Aviation Landmarks – Norfolk and Suffolk“. The History Press (2017)

*3 London Gazette Publication date: Supplement: 30827, Page:9204.

*4 London Gazette, Publication date: Supplement: 30507. Page:1606 Supplement page 1606.

*5 National Archives AIR 76/276/120, AIR 76/121/132

SHARP interim report 2011 (pdf via website)
Sedgeford Historical and Archaeological Research Project website.

Norfolk in the First World War: Somme to Armistice project Website accessed 11/8/19

The Workhouse, The Story of an Institution website. Accessed 12/8/19

Photos of Sedgeford’s buildings can be seen on the ‘Derelict places’ website.

November 11th 2018 – At the going down of the sun…

At the eleventh hour on the eleventh day of the eleventh month 1918, the guns on the western front fell silent. Four years of war in which millions were either killed or wounded, towns and villages wiped from the map and the environment changed forever, had finally come to an end. All along the front line, men were soon to put down their arms and leave their trenches for home.

The war to end all wars had finally come to an end. During the last four years some 40 million people had been killed or wounded, many simply disappeared in the mud that bore no preference to consuming man or machine.

Back home, virtually no city, town, village or hamlet was left unscathed by the loss of those four years. Many who returned home were changed, psychologically many were wounded beyond repair.

Sadly, twenty years later, the world slipped into the abyss of war once more. A war that saw some of the most incredible horrors, one that saw the extreme capabilities of what man can do to his fellow-man. Across the world millions of innocent people were slaughtered under the guise of an ideology. An ideology that was determined to rid the world of anyone who was willing to speak out against that very same ideology.

Young men were transported thousands of miles to fight in environments completely alien to them. Many had never been beyond their own home town and yet here they were in foreign lands fighting a foe they had never even met.

The bravery and self-sacrifice of those young men  on the seas, on the land and in the air, go beyond anything we can offer as repayment today.

For nearly 80 years, the world has been at an uneasy rest, Korea, Vietnam, the Falklands, the Middle East, and the Far East, in almost every corner of the globe there has been a war in which our service men and women have been involved. The war to end all wars failed in its aim to bring peace to the world.

In this year, on the hundredth anniversary of the ending of the First World War along with the anniversary of the formation of the Royal Air Force, we remember those who laid down their lives in the fight for freedom. We remember those who fought for the right to free speech, for the right to be who you are and the right to live our lives in peace.

We will remember them…

War Graves Cemetery - St Mary's Great Bircham

St Mary’s Great Bircham

St. Clement Danes - Church of the RAF

The rosette of the Commonwealth Air Forces – St. Clement Danes

Ypres 007

Tyne Cot, Ypres

DSC_0587

The American Cemetery Madingley

Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing down of blinds.

Wilfred Owen (18/3/1893 – 4/11/1914)

RAF Scampton – What does the future hold?

Many in the aviation world were saddened and even shocked recently (24th July 2018) with the MOD’s announcement that RAF Scampton and RAF Linton-on-Ouse were to close, and the two sites sold off.

Whilst there seems to be little general objection to Linton-on-Ouse, there has been quite a backlash regarding the closure of RAF Scampton in Lincolnshire. Scampton is of course home to the RAF’s Red Arrows display team who moved in there around twenty years ago, but more famously, it was the home of 617 Squadron RAF otherwise known as ‘The Dambusters’ during the Second World War.

It is this that has primarily caused the huge backlash resulting in a petition and some quite heated social media ‘discussions’ over the closure. So what are the reasons behind such a move and what could the future hold for RAF Scampton?

Scampton has been under RAF ownership since the First World War, it is one of their oldest stations and has housed some 19 operational flying squadrons as well as a number of non-flying units during this time. The base was closed in 1996 and then again partially reopened for the storage and maintenance of aircraft, it was also at this point that it became home to the RAF’s Red Arrows. Currently the only other units stationed here are No.1 Air Control Centre and the Mobile Meteorological Unit.

No. 1 Air Control Centre was moved here from RAF Lossiemouth whilst upgrading work was undertaken on its site. They work in conjunction with, amongst others, RAF Boulmer to provide National and International air surveillance operations ready to deploy QRA Typhoons from either Lossiemouth or nearby Coningsby at a moments notice. They also provide support to international operations including those with the British Army and the Royal Navy.

The Mobile Meteorological Unit uses civilian operators (Reserves) to monitor weather conditions primarily for aviation related operations, but they can also assist in any operation where the weather may impact on the overall objective.

The Red Arrows (RAFAT) are perhaps the most famous of the world’s aircraft display teams, currently flying the BAE Hawk, in close formation flying displays that have spanned fifty-four years. The Red Arrows are famous the world over, with pilots undertaking a rigorous selection process and subsequent training programme, that sets them amongst the most elite pilots in the world.

These three units mean that there are around 600 people employed on the Scampton site, mainly armed forces personnel who will be moved with their various units to new postings when the move finally takes place. Some of these employees are civilian and live locally to the airfield.

The argument for closure.

The RAF has been under considerable pressure to reduce its costs whilst keeping a viable and effective force. The recent purchase of the F-35 Lightning to replace the now ageing Tornado, had a significant impact in the RAF’s overall budget. However, this was taken into consideration within the MOD’s strategy which aimed to reduce costs, streamline operations and reshape the RAF for the modern world. Notifications of these cuts were aired in the 2010 Strategic Defence & Security Review (SDSR) in which it was announced that the RAF would*1:

  • Reduce its manpower force by around 5,000 personnel to 33,000 by 2015;
  • Retain Tornado but remove Harrier from service in the
    transition to a future fast jet force of Typhoon and JSF;
  • Not bring into service the Nimrod MRA4;
  • Withdraw VC10 and the three variants of Tristar aircraft
    from 2013 as part of the transition towards the more capable
    A330 future strategic transport and tanker aircraft;
  • Withdraw the C-130 Hercules transport fleet 10 years earlier than planned to transition to the more capable and larger A400M;
  • Withdraw the Sentinel surveillance aircraft once it is no longer required to support operations in Afghanistan;
  • Rationalise the RAF estate (40% of which is over 50 years old)
VC 10 flypast 29/8/12

The VC-10 fly past over RAF Coningsby on August 29th 2012, prior to their withdrawal from service.

Whilst much of this criteria has already been met, the estates management review has yet to take full effect. A series of reviews and assessments have been carried out by relevant Government bodies in conjunction with personnel from the MOD. The Better Defence Estates strategy 2016 (which is part of the Defence Estate Optimisation Programme) focuses on streamlining the MOD’s estates: land, bases and housing by 30% by 2040. Only by doing this, will the MOD meet its SDSR commitment, saving £3bn by 2040, allowing £4bn to be invested over the next 10 years on over 40 separate sites.

A further Government commitment is to generate 55,000 new private homes, some of which will be for armed forces personnel (Service Families Accommodation, SFA), but most will be released to private housing ventures. Much of the land owned by the MOD (which covers 1.8% of the UK land mass), and in particular the RAF, has huge building potential and is therefore prime building land.

So far, the MOD has disposed of nine military sites, with a further ninety-one earmarked for closure. This doesn’t include Scampton or Linton-on-Ouse, but does include: Swansea Airport, Newtownards Airfield, RAF Colerne, RAF Henlow, RAF Halton and the three American bases at Molesworth, Mildenhall and Alconbury (currently occupied by USAF personnel).

The cost of maintaining one of these sites, is not cheap, and a considerable amount of money was spent on Scampton following the 2010 review, to resurface the runway to allow both the Red Arrows to operate from here and to keep the base in operational status should other units be posted here later on. However, the infrastructure remains a pre World War II design, the buildings and hangars dating back to the expansion period of the 1930s (as do Linton-on-Ouse’s) and therefore completely inadequate for today’s modern Air Force. In his deliverance of the ‘Better Defence Estate’ statement, the Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State for Defence, Mr Tobias Ellwood, said “The disposal of the site would offer better value for money and, crucially, better military capability by relocating the units based there“.

Considering other aspects of Scampton, the Museum of RAF Fire Fighting*2 was told to vacate their premises in 2017, they have since found alternative accommodation in Gainsborough and aim to be up and running very soon. There was also a renewed effort to bring airshows back to Lincolnshire after the Waddington shows were stopped following upgrade at RAF Waddington. The first, and so far only attempt, at Scampton in September 2017, made a loss even though 50,000 visitors passed through the gates over the two-day period. This was a huge drop in figures however, compared to the 170,000 previously attained at Waddington. A planned event for 2018 was postponed until 2019, but no firm decision has been made about the future viability of this event.

Sisters together

Under restoration, two Lancaster front sections housed in the Grade II listed building. They may have to find new homes.

A further point to be considered is that of the local economy. Many argue that the base provides economic benefits to the local economy. Being only 600 personnel, this is quite a weak argument, unlike say Mildenhall that has 4,000 personnel contributing £219m (2013-14 figures) to its local economy.*3

So on the face of it, Scampton is ‘ideal’ for disposal, it is underused, located in an area already busy with aircraft activity (RAF Cranwell, RAF Waddington and RAF Coningsby are all nearby) and has an infrastructure suited for a private venture. The accommodation areas are mostly empty and those units based there are easily moved elsewhere, only the Red Arrows could prove a problem due to interference with other operational flying units.

The argument against closure.

However, that said, Scampton (more so than Linton-on-Ouse) has a huge historic value. Being a pre-war airfield it was vital for Bomber Command in the fight against Nazi Germany. Initially built with grass runways, these were improved upon with hard runways in the early war years, being extended to 10,000 feet later on in 1956, to be able to take the mighty Vulcan. This expansion led to extensive renovations including the re-sighting of the main Roman road (Ermine Street) that passes alongside the airfield. It is this extension that led to Scampton’s famous station badge of the bow and arrow. In 2016 Scampton celebrated its centenary and this year (2018) marks the 100th anniversary of the RAF.

The biggest factor in favour of keeping Scampton open are its historical, political and architectural aspects, the most famous being the presence of 617 (Dambusters) Sqn during the 1940s. A specialist squadron, formed under the leadership of Guy Gibson VC, DSO & Bar, DFC & Bar,  who led the 133 airmen in nineteen Lancasters in the famous attack against the dams of the Rhur valley on May 16th, 1943. In memory of this historic event, a museum was opened up showcasing a number of artefacts from the Dambusters including Guy Gibson’s office. Gibson’s dog ‘Nigger‘ is also buried in the grounds of Scampton, outside of what was Gibson’s office and many of the offices used by the squadron are also open for pre-arranged visits.

Scampton September 2015 (17)

The names of those who took part in Operation ‘Chastise’

There are of course a number of other historical aspects to this site. Airmen from Scampton were awarded a greater number of honours that any other bomber airfield, including two Victoria Crosses and a George Cross in 1940 alone. The first 2,000 lb bomb was delivered by aircraft based at Scampton, and numerous raids were undertaken from here including its participation on the first 1,000 bomber raid.

Post war and Scampton played a major part in the Cold War, an airfield housing the Vulcan, an aircraft capable of carrying and delivering the Blue Steel stand-off nuclear missile, one of only two airfields that could complete such a task. In order to complete this role, further T2 hangars were added, the dispersals were modified and additional ancillary buildings erected for fuelling and avionics.

The four ‘C’ type hangars now Grade II listed (1st December 2005 – List entry Number: 1391594) are the only listed buildings on site, the Blue Steel maintenance shed being demolished in March 2004, before listing was made. In fact over recent years, many unused buildings have been gradually demolished: the pre-war parachute stores, the main station workshop outbuildings, the Vulcan simulator, parts of the medical centre and the Warrant Officers’ Quarters are all included.

The main reason for the listing of these hangars is their ‘Legacy’ record, and includes the attached stores, workshops and offices. These ‘C’ type hangars were built in the period 1936-1937 by J. H. Binge of the Air Ministry’s Directorate of Works and Buildings, to drawing number 5043/36, and signify the airfield as a bomber airfield. The sacrifice by Bomber Command was immense, some 55,000 aircrew were killed in operations and many came from airfields in and around Lincolnshire. Thus these hangars, as listed buildings, stand as unofficial memorials to those who never came back and in particular to those of 617 Sqn who gave the ultimate sacrifice. As listed buildings, they cannot easily be demolished and therefore must be retained in any future development whatever that may be. Even with these modifications having taken place, the general layout of the airfield, the road networks and most buildings are still the pre-war expansion period designs, little has changed here since those days of the late 1930s when Britain was expanding it national network of airfields.

A review of Britain’s airfields by English Heritage, classified Scampton (and Linton-on-Ouse) “as one of most complete surviving of our Airfields with Runways and Perimeter tracks” comparable with RAF West Raynham, RAF Finningley, and RAF Waddington. It is a prime example of an expansion period model, being built under Scheme B of the period and only one of four to be so. The architectural designs of the buildings significant in themselves, being a mix of neo-Georgian and concrete within its non-dispersed site. The shape and design of Scampton (and Linton-on-Ouse) are unique to this period in time, square with straight roads and grassed / tree areas to hide the accommodation and technical areas.

A further point is that there have been numerous archaeological investigations and finds on and around the airfield itself. These include: Prehistoric remains, Roman remains (the Roman road traverses part of the airfield), Anglo-Saxon burial sites, Medieval sites, post-medieval and modern warfare sites (WWI & II) that remain buried. Many of these have yet to be fully investigated and mapped, but it is thought that there are strong links to all of these periods in time.

"Nigger's" grave

The grave of Guy Gibson’s Labrador “Nigger“.

So what are the possible options?

These are certainly strong advocates for keeping the station alive, however, the question then arises does this warrant the huge expense of maintaining an operational airfield without service personnel being present? Does it warrant the use of an operational airfield just for the Red Arrows? Even if the RAF were to stay here, which unit(s) could be brought in and at what cost to other airfields? Many would argue not, and if the RAF / MOD are to meet their commitment to both a leaner more efficient Air Force and the SDSR, then on paper surely Scampton must close.

However, there are a number of options open when Scampton is closed. The worse scenario is that the entire site is sold to housing / industrial development. In such cases the historical aspect of Scampton could be lost, the hangars turned into industrial units and the airfield removed completely. This, if it were to happen, would no doubt cause a huge backlash from many in the aviation field including the RAF itself, and is unlikely (in my opinion) to happen.

Since the announcement of the 2010 SDSR the future of Scampton has been under considerable debate, with numerous studies being completed on behalf of the RAF and Lincolnshire County Council. On December 15th, 2011*4, Parliament were notified of the suggestion that Scampton could be closed by 2014 following the merger of No 1 Air Control Centre and the Control and Reporting Centre at RAF Kirton-in-Lindsey , which also closed as a result. Both these units would then move to RAF Coningsby, a move that was postponed following further investigations.

Scampton September 2015 (2)

Two of the four Grade II listed ‘C’ type hangars. Note the BAE Hawk ‘Red Arrow’.

In October 2013, Lincolnshire County Council*5,6,7 carried out its own feasibility study following a request to investigate possible options for Scampton’s use in the future. The study looked at a range of options including combining civil and military aviation, a combined heritage and RAF base, and an expansion of the site to form a leisure complex. The report concluded that:

  1. The potential for “increased airspace use on a joint military / civilian basis was not feasible given the requirements of RAFAT. This effectively ruled out the option of developing the base as a commercial or leisure aerodrome alongside RAF use“.
  2. Many buildings were not being used and were therefore able to be demolished without any serious issues. Only the hangars were listed and would be more difficult to remove. Whilst there is currently a museum on site, this could be exploited establishing an “aviation focused attraction of national and international importance“.  The cost of such a venture would be in the region of £80m, and it was thought that this would deliver an operating surplus based on “approximately 200,000 visitors per year“.  These figures would make Scampton comparable with the National Space Centre at Leicester, and with a greater visitor rate than that of Lincoln Castle.
  3. It was also suggested the unused space could be turned into leisure activities “themed hotels” for example, and that any such activity would compliment the RAF’s expansion at Scampton should it go ahead. The entire process of this consultation was met with interest by the base commander, and at that time it was thought that Scampton would expand in terms of operational staff.
  4. In conclusion of the study, it was suggested that “The aviation heritage attraction would tell key stories relevant to Lincolnshire and its involvement in defence and aviation. It is likely to attract significant new visitors to the county, generating sufficient revenue to support long-term operational sustainability of the attraction, plus spend in the local economy.” It also suggested that “a major new aviation heritage attraction at RAF Scampton could sit alongside the current scale of military use and would be sufficiently flexible to work with a greater or lesser RAF presence.”

Whilst much of these points include an RAF presence of some sort, it would be flexible in nature until such time as it became self-sustaining. A further option is to develop Scampton retaining its historical features and infrastructure. Much of the married quarters area has already been sold off and is currently in private ownership. These utilise the actual married quarters and has proven quite successful. Further sections of this area are also being sold and developed and so the atmosphere of the site has changed little since its wartime days.

Recently we have seen similar ventures at both RAF Coltishall and RAF West Raynham, where the airfield buildings have been retained (including the hangars, watch office and many associated buildings including the aircraft pens) and the site turned into a working heritage site with small industrial units utilising the workshops and hangars, and private housing using the refurbished personnel homes.

Scampton September 2015 (4)

The ‘Grand Slam’ and ‘Tallboy’ bombs at Scampton.

The main argument against closing Scampton is one of cost, defence budgets are being cut and savings have to be made in the estates area. Scampton as it is, is not a viable airfield. However, its historical value is much higher, and any future decision and development needs to take this into account. If we are to retain our aviation heritage then serious consideration needs to be given to Scampton as a future development opportunity, themed hotels, museums of national importance or even a living history museum are all possible. What needs to be considered very carefully, is how that change is brought about. Lack of suitable knowledge or understanding of even small aspects of the site could degrade the overall venture, with important features degrading beyond safe use and poor managerial provision wasting an ideal opportunity in raising public awareness of the site’s true historical value.

Developments at both RAF Coltishall and RAF West Raynham have shown what good planning can do, creating something useful from a former airfield, whilst allowing for the preservation of its unique historic infrastructure.

This is clearly going to be a long and heated discussion, whether Scampton closes or not is only part of the debate, the crux of the matter being the historical value that it holds and what happens to the legacy it carries for all future generations.

Sources and Further Reading.

*1 Fact Sheet 8: Future Force 2020 – Royal Air Force.  Published 19 October 2010, accessed 25/7/18.

*2 Museum of RAF Firefighting website, accessed 25/7/18.

*3 Figures from ‘Forces Network News’ website, accessed 25/7/18

*4 Memo to Parliament 15th November 2011

*5 Scampton – Appendix A – Scampton Aviation Heritage Consultancy Brief Final Version.pdf  (RAF Scampton – Feasibility Study for an Aviation Heritage Attraction and
related Site Development Options – Brief – March 2013 ) accessed 25/7/18

*6 RAF Scampton Feasibility Study, 29 October 2013 to the Economic Scrutiny Committee on behalf of Executive Director for Communities Lincolnshire County Council. accessed 25/7/18

*7 Lincolnshire County Council Agenda item – RAF Scampton Feasibility Study Meeting of Economic Scrutiny Committee, Tuesday, 29th October, 2013 9.30 am (Item 34.)

The Development of Britain’s Airfields – AviationTrails

‘A Better Defence Estate’, November 2016, accessed 25/7/18.

News story “Defence Minister outlines progress on building a Better Defence Estate”  Government news bulletin published 24th July 2018, by Ministry of Defence and The Rt Hon Tobias Ellwood MP

A Better Defence Estate, 24 July 2018, Volume 645, House of Commons, The Rt Hon Tobias Ellwood MP

Feasibility Study fr RAF Scampton, Purcell 2018 website.

Artech Designs Ltd. Design and Access Statement, April 2015

Historic England Website accessed 27/7/18

RNAS Crail – The Mary Celeste of Aviation (Part 2)

After Part 1 of RNAS Crail, we continue looking at the buildings that remain, along with the units that served from here. We also look at the wide range of aircraft and the airfield’s current status.

Another exclusive building at Crail is the watch Office, again a building design unique to RNAS sites. The idea behind these offices was to create a standard floor design in a room of 38 ft x 30 ft, which could, depending upon the needs of the individual station in use, easily have a second, third or even fourth floor added should the airfield be expanded later on. Crail’s watch office has all four floors, the top being a largely glazed structure with commanding views not only across the airfield, but the Firth of Fourth and beyond to the Isle of May. Built into the ground level of the watch office is a fire tender shed, and rooms for the crews. Built to the basic drawing 3860/42, it remains one of only a few such examples today.

RNAS Crail (HMS Jackdaw)

The Watch office remains rare and whilst in poor condition, a good example of Naval Air Station Watch Offices. The door on the bottom right is the fire tender door. The building to the left is the photographic block. Both these are listed buildings.

Crail was an extremely busy airfield, it would, at some point, house 29 different squadrons, only 8 of these were training (or non front line units as denoted by the preceding ‘7’), the remainder being temporary stays by front line units either on training or whilst their vessels were in dock.  As a training station it would pass a huge number of trainees, all having undertaken basic training through the Empire Air Training Scheme abroad. The task of training these crews fell to a small number of resident squadrons at Crail, the first being 785 Naval Air Squadron (NAS) who arrived on November 4th 1940, under the command of Station Commander Lieutenant-Commander P.G.O. Sydney-Turner RN.

No. 785 NAS were a training squadron, formed from the Naval element of the Torpedo Training Unit at Abbotsinch. They were a Torpedo Bomber Reconnaissance (TBR) Training Squadron, equipped from the beginning by two aircraft types, the Fairy Swordfish and the Blackburn Shark. The Sharks were the last in a line of Blackburn bi-planes and were an all metal framed aircraft covered with fabric.  They were powered by a radial engine and were manufactured both in the UK and under licence in Canada. Introduced in 1934, the Shark was considered out-of-date  by the time war broke out and was quickly replaced by both the Swordfish and later at Crail, by the Fairy Albacore in 1941.

785 Naval Air Squadron Swordfish Mk I during a training flight from RNAS Crail (© IWM A 3536)

No. 785 NAS was joined that same month by No. 786 NAS, another training squadron, also flying Albacores. As the more successful Swordfish became more widely available these too were also replaced.

In the summer of 1941 No.770 NAS arrived at Crail. 770 were a Fleet Requirements Unit tasked with supporting surface vessels in their training needs. Ideally they would tow targets for ship borne gunners to shoot at; provide simulated surface attacks and spot for shore bombardments. They would use a variety of aircraft to fulfil this role before moving off to Crail’s satellite station Dunino a few miles west of Crail. 770 NAS were also to be based at RAF Drem and there was talk of placing them at RAF Macmerry, a move that never materialised.

1943 brought yet another flying unit to Crail, No. 778 NAS – a Service Trials Unit. Their purpose was to test new aircraft suitable for deck landings, and to achieve this they used a range of aircraft including both the Barracuda and Supermarine’s Seafire, the naval version of the Spitfire. A Griffon powered aircraft, the early Seafires had good low altitude speed but take-off and landings proved difficult due to their poor handling characteristics. One flaw with the Seafire was the tendency to drift to the right due to the high torque developed by the Griffon. Eventually, Supermarine would fit a contra-rotating propeller, and the problem was solved.

The dawn of 1944 brought another collection of aircraft into Crail with a detachment of 758 NAS, a stay that was short-lived, lasting only three months almost to the day.

The last flying unit to arrive at Crail was the training Squadron No. 711 NAS in September that same year, also with Fairy Barracudas. At the war’s end, these were replaced with Grumman Avengers, the Torpedo bomber that proved such a success in the Pacific theatre. The Avenger was renamed the ‘Tarpon’ in British use, but this name never really caught on and Avenger stayed. This arrival brought the number of aircraft at Crail to around 240, however, the end of hostilities meant that training programmes were facing being cut down, and 711 NAS was disbanded being absorbed into No. 785 NAS in December 1945.

It was during these last two months of 1945 that another short stay unit would arrive at Crail, No. 747 NAS only staying between November and December that year.

A Grumman Avenger of No 785 Naval Air Squadron at Crail Fleet Air Arm Station The torpedoes carried in the belly of the aircraft. The Avenger (Tarpon) was a huge success in the Pacific war, particularly in the hands of the US Navy. © IWM (A 18237)

Throughout the war a number of front line squadrons used Crail either whilst their vessel was in for repair, or for training purposes on the various ranges in the area. These disembarked units included: 800, 810, 811, 812, 816, 817, 819, 820, 822, 823, 826, 827, 828, 829, 831, 832, 833, 834, 836, 837 and 846 NAS all front line squadrons.

The last Fleet Air Arm squadron to use Crail was a detachment from 780 NAS which arrived here from Hinstock in the closing days of 1946. Staying here for only a very short period, they were to see the last of flying activities, and in 1947 flying at Crail finally ceased. The Royal Navy did retain the site though, renaming it HMS Bruce, they used the accommodation blocks to train new naval recruits and the airfield was maintained ‘operational’ allowing aircraft from other bases to use its runways for landing practice.

In 1949, the training part of Crail was closed, whether or not this was due to the harsh discipline found at Crail or not is unclear, but it was to signify the impending end of the Royal Navy’s relationship with Crail.

Other short reprieves came with the stationing of the Black Watch here during the Korean War, and a joint languages school (Joint Services School of Linguistics – JSSL) was set up here to train students in speaking Russian and Czechoslovakian.

The 1950s brought another short flying reprieve, as Leuchars’ runways were lengthened, the St. Andrews University Air Squadron who were based there, used Crail on a temporary basis.

The late 50s also saw the consideration of reopening Crail for jet aircraft, but due to the lack of runways space and with them being so close to the shoreline, lengthening them was out of the question. The idea was shelved and the Navy decided to close Crail for good. The land was eventually sold off, and returned to the state it is in today.

The airfield lies on the coast, 1/2 mile north-east of the coastal village it takes its name from, Crail. From the village take the road to Fife Ness and you arrive at the airfield within a few minutes. The main airfield is to your right and the accommodation areas to your left. The site is so large that it cannot be missed. The main entrance to the airfield is part way down this road, but a small road passes along the perimeter just after the site and leads all the way to the coast beyond. This road allows for excellent views across the entire airfield.

In the village itself, in the tourist information centre (limited opening hours), is a small display of photographs, letters and other personal effects from those who were stationed at Crail during the war. It is certainly worth a visit.

RNAS Crail (HMS Jackdaw)

Many buildings remain at Crail, a unique site, it is one of the biggest ‘preserved’ Naval Air Station example in the country.

Crail exists today as a prime example of Royal Naval stations, its uniqueness qualifying many of the buildings for protected status. Classed as either category ‘A’, ‘B’ or ‘C’, Historic Scotland has recognised the importance of this site and laid the way to protect it as much as possible. The majority of the airfield was scheduled as an ancient monument in 1997, and following a review in 2006, this was reduced to an area covering the runways along with a selection of 32 buildings which are all now listed.

This said, many of the buildings are in poor condition, internal features being removed and damaged  extensively by constant exposure to the Scottish weather. Of those that are in a better condition, many are used for light industrial purposes or for the storage of farm machinery / produce. The Scottish Kart club operates on part of the site and it is used as a Drag strip and raceway offering Sprint packages to those wishing to race their car around its 1.25 mile track. Putting all this aside though, it is the ‘wholeness’ of Crail that is remarkable, and one that makes it such an important site to Britain’s aviation and wartime heritage.

Sources and Further Reading

The Aggleton Family website has log books, images and recollections of life at Crail and is certainly worth a visit.

Tony Drury’s website ‘Fleet Air Arm Bases’ has a wealth of information on Royal Navy stations across the country. Another site worthy of a visit.

Hobb, D Commander MBE, RN (Ret), HMS Jackdaw, Royal Naval Air Station Crail, Crail Museum Trust, (2104)

A full list of those buildings listed can be found on the Historic Scotland website,

RNAS Crail – The Mary Celeste of Aviation (Part 1).

On the eastern coast of Fife in Scotland, lies a remarkable airfield that has to be one of the most extraordinary Second World War airfields in the country. It is a change from the usual sites we look at, being neither RAF nor USAAF, but instead it is a Royal Naval Air Station.

Not only is this site remote, sitting just outside the small village of Crail, and accessible by one road, but it is an airfield that has been locked in a time capsule, an airfield that looks like the Mary Celeste of wartime sites.

As we head north again, this time close to the famous golf course at St. Andrews on the east coast of Scotland, Trail 53 visits the former Royal Naval Air Station (RNAS) at Crail, an airfield that looks like it was left the very day the last man walked out the door.

RNAS Crail (HMS Jackdaw)

Crail has to be virtually unique, complete almost in its entirety, from accommodation, to the technical buildings, its runways and even the Naval watch office, they are all standing (albeit in a poor state) as they were when the site was closed in 1958.

RNAS Crail (HMS Jackdaw)

Crail’s Aircraft Repair Shop with its category ‘A’ listing dominates the skyline.

Now very much rundown, it has to be one of the most compete examples of wartime airfields in the UK today. This is primarily due to Historic Scotland who have scheduled the entire site listing many of the buildings for preservation.

Originally Crail was the site of a World War I airfield, opened and closed within a year 1918 -1919, and was designed specifically to train new pilots before posting to front line squadrons in France. The airfield was home to both No. 50 and 64 Training Squadrons, who were both immediately disbanded, and then reformed under the control of the newly formed Royal Air Force as No. 27 Training Depot Squadron RAF, on July 15th 1918.

Flying RE8, FE2b, Avro 504A & 504K aircraft and Sopwith Camels, they were to give airmen who had passed their basic flying training programme, instruction in techniques in both fighter-reconnaissance and air combat. Pilots would progress from one aircraft type to another learning to fly amongst other things, simulated dogfights which hopefully prepared them for combat over northern France.

At the end of 1918 US airmen were being sent across the Atlantic and some of these too were trained here at Crail. But as the war finally closed, there was little need to train new pilots and so flying duties were slowly withdrawn. The number of flights at Crail began to dwindle and its end looked near.

In March of 1919, a cadre of 104 Sqn DH.10s landed here, but with little or no flying taking place, they were soon surplus to requirements, the RAF being cut back to save money. As a result of these cuts, they were no longer needed and so were disbanded at the end of June.

During its short eight month life Crail would be a busy station seeing many aircraft types. It would also be developed quite extensively, having a range of buildings erected on site which included three coupled General Service sheds, recognisable by their curved roof using the ‘Belfast Truss’ construction method; and a single Aircraft Repair Shed, all typical of Training stations in the latter stages of the war.

Like many World War II airfields later on, Crail was unfinished when these first bi-plane units moved in, and once the war was over, like the aircraft, the buildings were all removed and the land returned to agriculture once more.

When war broke out for the second time, Crail was identified as a possible site for a new airfield for use by the Royal Navy (RN), a satellite being used at nearby Dunino. Having a record of good weather and drainage, it was a perfect location, quiet, secluded and on the coast of Scotland. It was an ideal location both for training and for operations over the North Sea.

RNAS Crail (HMS Jackdaw)

The Guard House, whilst listed (Cat B) is reflective of the condition of most buildings at Crail.

Being a Royal Naval airfield it would differ from RAF airfields in that it had four runways and not three, each being of tarmac. However, because they would not be used for heavy aircraft especially the larger bombers, these runways would be considerably smaller, 3 x 1000 yds and 1 x 1,200 yds each only 33 yds wide. The other reason for these narrow and short runways were that they were used to train pilots to land as they would on aircraft carriers, using much shorter and narrower landings spaces than their RAF counterparts.

World War II Crail would be considerably larger than its First World War predecessor, and would have numerous state-of-the-art buildings and features. With construction starting in 1939, it would open in the Autumn of 1940 but would continue to be adapted and updated right the way through to the war’s end in 1945. As Crail was a Royal Navy station, it would have to follow Royal Navy law and have its crew named after an actual floating vessel. Hence, on October 1st 1940, it was commissioned as HMS Jackdaw, following the tradition of using bird names for land based stations.

As with many wartime RAF airfields, Crail was split by the main road, the accommodation areas to the north-west and the active airfield to the south-east. Accommodation would cater for around 2,000 personnel of mixed rank and gender, WRNs (Wrens) being used, like WAAFs, not only in the administration and communication roles, but for aircraft maintenance, parachute packing and other maintenance duties.

Wren parachute packers at Royal Naval Air Station Crail. © IWM (A 6289)

Many of these accommodation blocks were single story, laid out in blocks of four (some grouped as eight) in a grid-style layout. Whilst separate from the active side of the airfield, it was not truly dispersed as RAF airfields were later on. Also on this site, close to the entrance, are the communal buildings such as the gymnasium/cinema and chapel, providing  comfort and entertainment for those off duty times.

RNAS Crail (HMS Jackdaw)

The Gymnasium / Cinema at Crail is Category ‘B’ listed.

On the technical side of the airfield Crail had a number of hangars, an Aircraft Repair Shop, torpedo attack training building (TAT), bombing training building and a watch office along with many other support and technical buildings. A bomb store was located in the southern area of the airfield.

The TAT building revolutionised torpedo attacks, removing the ‘educated’ guesswork that pilots had to make using bow waves, ships’ angles and speed estimations. These deflected attacks reminiscent of deflected shooting by fighter pilots and gunners of the RAF, they were much harder to calculate and so more difficult to score hits. This new ‘F’ director system fed information from the aircraft directly into the torpedo which once released, could accelerate away at accurately calculated deflection angles from the aircraft. These buildings used a large hemispherical screen linked to a TAT trainer which looked not unlike a Link trainer. Designed to drawing number 1697/42 they were large buildings, with a large lighting gantry suspended from the ceiling constructed by technicians from closed theatres in London. The example at Crail was the first such building and led the way to other similar structures being built at other Naval Air Stations. Today this is the only known example left and whilst the innards of the building have gone, it has been listed as a Historic building Category ‘A’ by Historic Scotland.

In conjunction with the synthetic training provided at Crail, cameras were used that would be strapped beneath the wings of the aircraft and would take a photo as the torpedo release button was depressed. Classed as ‘Aerial Light Torpedo’ it was a simulated attack that would take an image of the vessel under attack, allowing an examiner to calculate the success of it without the need to use a dummy torpedo. Pilots at Crail would carry out several mock attacks every day and so the use of a camera and synthetic training, reduced the use of dummy torpedoes that could not be collected once dropped.

A camera attached to the wing of Swordfish at Crail allowed examiners to calculate the success of hits against surface targets.(© IWM A 9413)

An additional aspect of synthetic training at Crail was the bombing teacher building, another rare and rather unique example. An example based on the earliest 1926/1927 designs, it remained unchanged and is said to be the only existing example of its kind left in Britain. The fore-runner of the AML bombing teacher, it was a two-story building that projected an image on to the floor beneath the bomb aimer. Designed to simulate a variety of conditions, the bomb aimer would lay on a platform feeding signals to a projector above, and the image would move simulating an aircraft flying at 90 mph at an altitude of 8,000ft.

But by far the most prominent building at Crail is the Aircraft Repair Shed (ARS) at 250 feet in length with its ‘zig-zag’ roof, these were unique to Naval Air Stations and were able to take numerous aircraft for full strip down and rebuilding work. In conjunction with this were a number of well equipped workshops and seven squadron hangars all 185 feet long and 105 feet wide. Five of these hangars were grouped together in the technical area with two more to the eastern side of the airfield. Specifically designed for naval use, these Pentad transportable hangars were able to accommodate aircraft with folding wings, as would be used on aircraft carriers during the war. Again especially built for Naval Air Stations, the sides were canted to allow close parking of aircraft. Sadly these hangars have now gone but their concrete foundations and door rails do still remain.

In the next post we shall continue looking at RNAS Crail, and the huge number of squadrons that used it during its operational life. We shall look at the variety of aircraft that would operate from here, along with its post war history and its current status. It truly is the Mary Celeste of aviation.

RAF Macmerry – The darker side of war.

After visiting both RAF Drem and RAF East Fortune in Trail 42, we travel a few miles south, back to the A1 road where we visit another disused and almost lost RAF airfield. Initially used as a Landing Ground during the First World War, it struggled to become a fully fledged airfield but it did operate a small number of squadrons under RAF control. One of these squadrons had a rather sinister role to play and had Britain been invaded, then its name would no doubt be well-known and common place in history books today.

In Trail 51, we continue on in the south-eastern region of Scotland, not far from the historic city of Edinburgh, where we visit the former airfield RAF Macmerry.

RAF Macmerry (Tranent / Penston).

The former airfield at the small village of Macmerry is today split by the main A1 road, with the flying side of the airfield to the north and the technical and accommodation areas to the south. Sadly the active side has been completely removed and is now agricultural land, but on the technical and accommodation side there are fortunately still a small number of buildings remaining, albeit in private use today.

RAF Macmerry is located some 14 miles east of Edinburgh, its origins extend back to the First World War when it was known as Penston. Used by No. 77 Squadron who were initially based at Edinburgh, it was a Home Defence Landing Ground housing a squadron detachment until the entire unit moved over in April / May 1918, when the Royal Flying Corps became established as the Royal Air Force. No. 77 Sqn were well-known in the area, having detachments based at nearby Turnhouse and also at New Haggerston and Whiteburn. The squadron had been based at Edinburgh since October 1916 after moving there from Thetford in Norfolk, shortly after their inception. During their time at Penston, No. 77 Sqn operated a number of Royal Aircraft Factory types: the BE.2c, BE.2d and BE.2e, the BE.12 and BE.12b along with the D.H. 6 and RE. 8.

RAF Macmerry

One of many buildings that remain on the farm today.

Even though No. 77 Sqn moved into Penston full-time, they did retain a detachment at Whiteburn, an arrangement that continued until 13th June 1919, when the squadron (now Royal Air Force) was finally disbanded. No. 77 Squadron would go on to be reformed in 1937, just prior to the outbreak of the Second World War, but they would not return to their roots, and would never again appear at the airfield at Macmerry. After 77 Sqn’s departure from Penston, the RAF had no need for the site, and so the airfield was closed and the site sold off.

The 1920s and 30s then saw a short reprieve for Macmerry as aviation became fashionable. The Edinburgh Flying Club established itself here, and the Scottish Motor Traction (SMT) organisation put forward plans for a new major airport here at Macmerry. Established in 1905, the SMT was an established bus company who also provided an air taxi service flying a De Havilland Fox Moth between 18th July and 31st October 1932. Although these ambitious development plans never came to fruition, Macmerry (referred to as Edinburgh) was used for a short period between 1936 and 1939 for commercial air travel by North Eastern Airways.

North Eastern Airways (Copyright Bjorn Larsson)*1

After war broke out the RAF were looking to expand their airfields around the UK, and the border regions of Scotland were soon under the spotlight. The Air Ministry identified Macmerry and decided in July 1940, to rename Macmerry as Tranent after the nearby town. However, and even after the official requisition later on, this name change never appeared on any but a handful of official documents and the name Macmerry stuck.

It was around this time too that the Cunliffe-Owen company, a civilian aircraft manufacturing company, began operations at the airfield repairing Lockheed Hudson aircraft. Cunliffe-Owen was set up by the millionaire Sir Hugo Cunliffe-Owen on August 9th 1937 under the name of BOA Ltd, changing it later in 1938, to Cunliffe-Owen Aircraft. Utilising the First World War hangar at Eastleigh in the former county of Wessex, they would be famous for their investigations into the ‘Flying Wing’ project. Cunliffe-Owen also formed a contract with Lockheed Aircraft and began assembling Hudsons along with a large number of other American aircraft imported into the UK for RAF service.*2

On September 2nd 1940, No. 263 Squadron moved into RAF Drem, located about 6 miles north-east of here, and used Macmerry as a satellite airfield, even though the RAF had not officially taken over the site. Regardless of this, the Westland Whirlwinds they were flying, did occasionally use the airfield along with another satellite at Prestwick way off to the west.

In January 1941, Macmerry was officially requisitioned and would come under the control of 13 Group Fighter Command, with the first aircraft arriving very soon after. The Hurricane Mk.Is of 607 (County of Durham) Sqn would stop off here between January 16th and March 2nd 1941, before joining the main squadron also based at RAF Drem. No. 607 Sqn were veterans of the Battle of Britain, and would go on to be the first Squadron to operate the ‘Hurri’ bomber, a Hawker Hurricane fitted with bombs.

As they departed Macmerry, a second unit arrived, No. 614 (County of Glamorgan) Squadron, who were a pre-war squadron and would operate Lysander Mk.II and Mk.IIIs before replacing these with Blenheim IVs in July 1941. After a short spell away at Thruxton, No. 614 Sqn returned to Macmerry for a few days before departing for the final time at the end of August 1942. Flying with the squadron code ‘LJ’, it was these Lysanders that had a rather sinister role to play, and one that was perhaps unique along this coastline of Scotland.

Westland Lysander Mark III, ‘LJ-P’ of No. 614 Squadron RAF Macmerry, on a photographic-reconnaissance flight (IWM H 9183)

First impressions of Macmerry were not positive for crews, a small hangar and a flying control building were about all that greeted the men. There were no accommodation facilities and airmen were billeted in the homes of local families. Runways at this time were grass (1 x 1,500 yards and 2 x 1,200 yards), whilst the perimeter track was tarmac, a feature that would not change for the duration of the war.

By the summer months accommodation on the airfield was finally available (sufficient for around 1000 personnel of mixed rank and gender) and the whole of No. 614 Squadron moved into Macmerry. Work continued on the remainder of the airfield infrastructure, including six hardstands each holding two-twin engined aircraft in a ‘Blenheim’ style aircraft pen. Otherwise know as type ‘B’ (designed to drawing 7151/41) they had cranked sides and staggered entrances. Each of these had a shelter built into the revetment sufficient to hold 25 men. Eight Blister hangars and a T2 were also added at some point, along with a range of technical buildings.

Working under the control of the Royal Air Force Army Co-operation Command, No. 614 Sqn’s Lysanders were to monitor and patrol Scotland’s east coast, and in the event of an invasion, they were to contaminate the beaches with Gas (possibly Mustard Gas even though this was banned in the 1925 Geneva Protocol) using the vast stocks they had at Macmerry airfield. A lethal substance, it was never thankfully used and was disposed of later on. Much of the information about this has only recently come to light, but according to Operational Record Books*3 gas attacks were something that were rehearsed on many occasions.

Whilst No. 614 Sqn were based here at Macmerry, they performed regular operations with Army units, detachments from Macmerry flying to the Fleet Air Arm airfield at Arbroath where they would carry out photo reconnaissance, simulated dive bombing and these aforementioned gas laying operations. These operations (e.g. ‘FORFAR’, ‘HOPE’ and ‘JOHN’) were carried out in conjunction with various army divisions, with RAF support staff and  equipment (including Bowsers) being taken by road to the detachment airfield. In many cases, the crews and ground staff from Macmerry would be housed in tents supplied by the various army brigades and they would be fed by the Royal Navy, something that the more senior officials within the RAF wanted to stop.

During these exercises, Lysanders would drop messages to ‘message stations’, these message stations would be viable targets for the ‘enemy’ aircraft (bomber sorties being performed by other Lysanders, Spitfires or Miles Masters) and therefore the diligence of those inside was of the utmost importance. Following a review of the first of these operations, this key point was noted in the ORB, in which it was pointed out that  “…only intelligent men should be employed, and the same men, if possible, should do the duty on all occasions.

During August 1941 a detachment of Tomahawk IIA aircraft were to join No. 614 Sqn here at Macmerry. These aircraft were operating with No. 241 Sqn, who were primarily based at RAF Wattisham, but had detachments already at Snailwell, Henlow and Docking and now at Macmerry.

In March 1942 these Tomahawks were replaced by the North American P-51 Mustang Mk.I, an aircraft designed in response to the need for a long-range fighter with outstanding capabilities. Designed by a German born designer, Edgar Schmued, it would become one of, if not the, Second World War’s most successful fighters, especially after it had the Rolls Royce Merlin replace the weaker Allinson. As well as an increase in top speed of around 50 mph, it out performed the Allinson in all other categories including rate of climb and performance at altitude. By May 1942, No. 241 Sqn and their new Mustangs would all depart Macmerry for pastures new at Ayr. However, and not before too long, 241 Sqn would return to this part of the country, spending a short time at RAF Winfield in the border regions working in cooperation with 4th Medium Regiment, Royal Artillery.

It was during May that No. 225 Sqn moved to Thruxton  whilst also having a detachment based here at Macmerry, and once again the Mustang Mk.I would be back in the skies over this small Scottish village. The entire squadron would move onto the airfield at the end of August and would stay until the end of October when they would depart for North Africa taking their Mustangs with them.

By late summer 1942, the accommodation, hangars and major facilities were all now complete and open, the site was now ‘modern’ and homely, engineer’s workshops, allowed for maintenance of the aircraft, and aircraft pens offered protection to both the airmen and aircraft in the case of Luftwaffe attack.

RAF Macmerry

One of the ‘B’ type aircraft pens surviving at Macmerry today. The brick structure to the right is the entrance to the built-in shelter.

By August 1942, No. 614 squadron were to pull out moving to RAF Odiham where they replaced their aircraft with Blenheim Vs. Their place at Macmerry being taken by No.13 Sqn flying Blenheim IVs. Their stay would, like many of their predecessors, be a short one, another ex Lysander user, they only stayed here for about 10 days before they too moved off to Odiham and onto North Africa.

The November would then see the last operational flying until arrive at Macmerry, and they would be the longest-serving unit to stay here. At the end of November, on the 21st, No. 63 squadron would arrive bringing  with them further Mustang Mk.Is. The main block of the squadron would operate from Macmerry whilst detachments would be placed across the length and breadth of the country at Lossiemouth, Odiham, Dalcross and Acklington. Many of the sorties flown by No. 63 sqn were photographic reconnaissance missions, using F.24 (8″) cameras installed on the port side of the fuselage directly behind the cockpit. Because of the open landscape and close proximity to the coast of the airfield, many sorties flown from here were hampered by high winds and the impending Scottish cold, something that brought discomfort to the may crews who were stationed here at some point.

A  No. 63 Squadron Mustang Mk.1 dropping a message bag (off to the right) during an Army co-operation exercise (IWM)

Originally reformed in the summer of 1942, No. 63 Sqn moved here from Catterick, and stayed until July 1943 when they departed to Turnhouse, leaving only a detachment here at Macmerry. In November, the entire squadron then moved off to Thruxton leaving the airfield at Macmerry behind for good.

Other than a handful of Lysander target tugs and glider trainers, flying wise Macmerry would then fall quiet, the sound of aircraft engines being replaced by the thud of marching boots. During the winter of 1943, Operation ‘Fortitude North‘ was put into place, an operation to fool the Germans into thinking the impending invasion would occur across the North Sea. Macmerry would see a huge influx of army personnel, from No. 2736, No. 2830 and No. 2949 Regiment Squadrons, who would take to the mountains sending out false signals that would be picked up by German intelligence. These groups stayed here for a number of months until moved south for the real  invasion across the English Channel. So successful was the operation that German forces failed to pull vital units away from the Norwegian coastal areas for fear of an impending Allied attack.

RAF Macmerry

Much of what is left is rundown but in use for storing farm machinery.

In the months after the D-day landings, the RAF began to shrink as the need for fighters and heavy bomber began to lessen. The closing stages of the war were near and the fight was well and truly over German soil. The Fleet Air Arm (FAA) however were still expanding, preparing for what was going to be the invasion of Japan. To this end they needed more airfields to train pilots and crews to meet this demand. The Air Ministry considered giving the FAA Macmerry airfield to use, primarily as a repair yard, but, and whilst the offer was accepted, it was never actually put into practice. The FAA also considered stationing No. 770 Sqn FAA here, a Fleet Requirements Unit, whose role was to provide target tugs, simulated attacks on vessels and other gunnery roles. This too however, never actually came to fruition, and whilst the FAA had renamed the airfield H.M.S. Nighthawk II in preparation (Drem being re-designated H.M.S. Nighthawk) they handed Macmerry back to the RAF on March 15th 1946 without ever actually placing a man through its gates. With the war over for the second time, the RAF had no further use for Macmerry, and it was closed down very soon after.

With the airfield abandoned, the Edinburgh Flying Club seized the opportunity to get back into Macmerry, and on August 31st 1946, they reopened the airfield and began to operate from its runways again. They continued to operate here until 1953 when flying finally ceased and Macmerry closed its gates for the last and final time.

After this the site was sold off, the main A1 was eventually built and then later extended into a dual carriageway. As a result of the new road the airfield was split, and the active side developed as farm land. There are suggestions that additional hardstands were provided on the perimeter track on this side, but any sign of these seem to have gone along with the flying side of the airfield. In addition to this, the hangars on the northern side have also been removed and replaced by a rather large grain store.

The accommodation and technical sites were then turned into a small industrial park, the land adjacent to this, being returned to farm land. It is on this land that many of the accommodation buildings have been retained being put to use by the farm to house farm machinery and produce. The WAAF site buildings were demolished but the squash courts and gym both remain today.

RAF Macmerry

The squash court at Macmerry.

The road from the A1 circumnavigates the entire site and it is from this road that the best views can be obtained. From the main A1, the first stop is at the two revetments, which remain sandwiched in between this side road and the main A1. Hidden from view of the A1, they are discernible from the side road and are in remarkably good condition for their age. In a small triangular section of ground, there are several structures here, including the aircraft pens and crew blocks.

The industrial site visible just off to the left of this road is what was the main technical area of the airfield. The modern warehouses and industrial units having replaced the technical buildings that were once thriving RAF workshops.

Continue on and take a left turn. This takes you past the former accommodation sites and the location of the majority of surviving buildings today; long halls with their chimneys which were once the centre of life at Macmerry. Following this road to the left then takes you past the Gym and Squash Courts, passed the accommodation area and back to the A1 and away from the airfield.

The former airfield RAF Macmerry went through a number of changes during its life, and although it has a history dating back to the First World War, it is one of those airfields that never really seemed to establish itself as a front line airfield. The number of squadrons who passed through here also brought a range of aircraft types, giving Macmerry a varied and interesting mix of models. That said, Macmerry had a dark side to it, and had the invasion of Britain come through Scotland’s borders, then Macmerry would no doubt be a name at the forefront of Britain’s history books today.

Sources and further reading.

*1 Timetable courtesy of Bjorn Larsson via Airline Timetable Images Website.

*2 Phipp, M., ‘Wessex Aviation History‘, Amberley Publishing 2009, e-book accessed 24/4/18.

*3 AIR 27/2122 National Archives.

AIR 27/587/1 National Archives.

The East Lothian at War website gallery has a number of photos taken at RAF Macmerry during the war and is worth a visit.

The Development of Britain’s Airfields (Part 7).

Whilst the runway’s remains one of the biggest features of an airfield, perhaps one of the most discussed and certainly visible is the hangar. Large sheds used to maintain aircraft, many still dominate the skyline today, used by farmers and industrial companies, they are massive buildings, but yet many remain classed as temporary or even transportable!

The development of these huge buildings is another that lasted many years, and whilst similar in layout and design, they are as complicated and as varied as any other building found on Britain’s airfields.

Hangars and Aircraft Sheds.

The topic of aircraft hangars is well versed in a large number of books and internet references. They, like the runways, can explain much about the history and use of an airfield, being the largest single building on any airfield site. Distinguishing features between hangar types is often difficult to see, many now re-clad or updated with modern features, doors or materials, even the differences between some designs is so small, without technical drawings or measurements, ascertaining the type can be all but impossible.

Hangars (or aircraft sheds as they were initially called) have been fairly constant in design, however, different services used different types, Admiralty seaplane sheds for example, were primarily side opening, whereas RAF hangars were generally front opening. Design and construction was undertaken by numerous companies (Herbertson & Co. Ltd., Nortons Ltd., Teeside Bridge and Engineering Co. Ltd., and Sir William Arrol & Co.) and even Handley Page Aircraft Co. and Boulton & Paul dabbled with the idea. With so many forms being used, it is a topic both detailed and extremely wide.

This is not therefore, intended to describe each and every hangar ever built (Second World War Air Ministry designs alone covered more than 56 types!), but more a general realisation of the huge development they undertook during this expansion and wartime period on RAF / USAAF airfields. Figures quoted here are generally rounded.

In order to understand the changes in aircraft hangars we need to briefly look at those of the First World War, where aircraft were stored in ‘sheds’, often made from canvas covering a wooden frame, or as a more permanent construction, completely wooden sheds with sliding doors. Later on these were built using metal (iron in particular) and were designed to be permanent, capable of housing several aircraft at a time.

The First World War hangars were varied and often crude, some little more than glorified tents, but through development famous names such as the Bessonneau and Hervieu were created toward the end of the war. Hangars became so large that specialist units had to be created solely to transport, erect and maintain them, and their use became more widespread.

The most common hangar of this period, the Bessonneau, was the first standard transportable hangar used on Royal Air Force airfields. Modern forms of it are still in use today, using different materials, they are quick to erect and offer reasonable protection from the weather outside.

The Bessonneau was a wooden frame structure covered in canvas. It was a simplistic design, able to be erected in as little as two days by a group of 20 skilled men. Heavy canvas doors open at one end allowing aircraft to be moved in and out with relative ease. The problem with these hangars was that the canvas was prone to freezing in winter and therefore becoming difficult to use.

There were two models of the Bessonneau built, differing only in their length – either 79 feet or 118 feet – but both were 65 feet wide.

The interwar and early war years were perhaps understandably,  the years in which the greatest hangar development occurred. The Air Ministry – the body overseeing the works – decided upon a system of ‘structure type’ using names and designations such as, Type ‘A’, ‘B’, ‘C’, Bellman, ‘T2’, etc., and just like the expansion period schemes, they progressed through this system as new developments came about.

The first type was the Type ‘A’, a permanent design, originating in 1924, it was used well into the 1930s when it was gradually replaced during the expansion period. Some examples did last well into the war and even beyond, for example, North Weald, one of the first airfields to be allocated a Type ‘A’, still uses one today.

Type A Hangar

Type A Hangar at North Weald. One of the first stations to have these types of Hangar, it has workshops attached to the Hangar side.

The Type ‘A’ is probably the first to represent the modern hangar, doors at both ends in leaves of four running on rails. Workshops are attached to the hangar side, something that was discontinued as Britain entered the war. Walls were reinforced with concrete to protect from bomb splinters, and they were built 249 feet long and 122 feet wide.

During the late 1920s, the Air Ministry published requirements for new heavy bombers, and these would require new hangars in which to maintain them. In response, the Ministry then updated the Type ‘A’ hangar to the Type ‘B’. In essence a larger version of the Type ‘A’, (160 ft span and 273 ft in length) the ‘B’ was named the ‘Goliath‘ with only three being built (each being a different length). One of these was at RAF Martlesham Heath and is still used today on what is now the industrial park. Like the Type ‘A’, the roof of the ‘B’ is possibly its most discernible feature, a series of trusses along its length crossing laterally over the roof.

With expansion period demands increasing, further developments were needed, and it was envisaged that an increasing bomber size would be needed if substantial bomb loads were to be delivered deep into the continent. The current size of hangar was now considered too restrictive and so a new buildings would be needed. The requirements of the Air Ministry was for a hangar with a span of 150 feet and length of 300 feet. With these in place, new aircraft specifications could be issued.

The Type ‘C’, (designed in 1934) as it was designated, would become the dominant building on any airfield and therefore visible from quite a distance. As airfield designs were subject to scrutiny by the Society for the Preservation of Rural England, local objections were taken into account during the design process. To appease any  objections, the steel frame was covered with local brick or stone, keeping it inline with other buildings not only on the airfield, but houses and buildings erected locally.

Most airfields during the expansion period were built with these hangars on site, and naturally went through a series of developments and improvements. This means, that there are many different forms of the Type ‘C’: gabled roof, hipped rafter and reinforced concrete. Another modified version of the ‘C’ appeared in 1938 and was designated the ‘C1’ (or ‘Protected’), this was an austerity measure development, reducing the amount of material used by lowering the roof height by 5 feet – internal metal work was also left partially exposed. Both the ‘C’ and ‘C1’, continued to be built with offices, workshops and aircrew accommodation attached to the hangar side, the idea being that it was more efficient to do so for the repair of the aircraft inside. As these were larger in width and length than their predecessors, they would have six leaf doors also sliding on top and bottom rails.

RAF Upwood

Type C at the former RAF Upwood.

1936 saw a dramatic change in hangar design, with two new requirements being issued by the Air Ministry. Firstly, storage space was now running out and so new facilities were required. These Aircraft Storage Unit Stations (ASU) would need their own hangar type, and so a requirement for these was put forward. Also at this time, the Ministry put out a demand for transportable hangars, these would replace the ageing Bessonneaus of the First World War. The response to these demands were three storage hangars and two temporary hangars.

Storage Hangars.

The Type ‘D’, ‘E’ and ‘L’ Hangars, were a development used specifically by the ASU stations, and they were not generally built on front line operational airfields. They were virtually identical in size to the Type ‘C’, but each type was marginally bigger in span 150 ft, 160 ft and 167 ft than the previous model, and all were the same length at 300 feet. The three types were different from previous hangars in that they had curved roofs, allowing the ‘E’ and ‘L’ to be covered with soil for protection and camouflage (the ‘D’ had straight side walls and therefore could not be covered). ASUs were built to assemble and disassemble aircraft for shipment to operational airfields in Britain or overseas. Aircraft were stored, in varying degrees of assembly within these units, and heavy hoists were often used to store aircraft ‘tail up’. However, with the outbreak of war, aircraft storage was thought better dispersed around the airfield and not concentrated in one space, so this method of storing aircraft was abandoned. Many of these hangars still remain today, used by small industrial units or for farm storage.

The next two types, the ‘J’ and ‘K’, were virtually identical in design, again with curved roofs, they were used for storage of aircraft. The ‘J’ can be found on many operational airfields, built in conjunction with other main hangars (Waterbeach is a very good example of this combination), whilst the ‘K’ was built on ASU stations. The design came in as a result of Expansion Scheme M, and was as a result of the call for 2,550 front line aircraft by March 1942.

The main difference between the two, (other than their location) was in the roof structure, the ‘K’ having lifting tackle rails along its width, while the ‘J’ were along its length. The ‘K’, being used for storage of aircraft, didn’t have any windows, where as the ‘J’ did as offices and workshops were in use constantly. Like previous hangars, the ‘J’ and ‘K’ both had a span of 150 ft and a length of 300 ft.

RAF Waterbeach 'J' Hangar

A ‘J’ hangar located at RAF Waterbeach.

Transportable hangars.

The 1936 transportable hangar requirement, asked for a hangar that could be easily erected and didn’t require a permanent base. It also asked for doors at both ends and needed to be simplistic in design, with parts being interchangeable. These hangers also saw the separating of the office/workshop facilities previously built onto the side of the hangars, these now being located in buildings in the technical and administrative areas. After considering numerous designs, two were chosen and ultimately built.

The first of these, and the primary choice, was the Bellman. Designed by an engineer within the Works Directorate, N.S. Bellman, they were smaller than previous hangars (88ft span and 175 ft on RAF bases) and could be built in under 500 hours by a dozen men. So successful, were they, that over 400 were built between 1938 and 1940 across a wide range of airfield types. Some of these examples even appeared in Russia.

Bellman Aircraft shed

Bellman Aircraft sheds at the former RAF Bircham Newton

The second design, was the Callender (later Callender-Hamilton with modifications) Hangar, designed by the bridge design company Callender Cable and Construction. These had a span of 90 clear feet, with a length of 185 ft, and were used on both RAF and RNAS airfields. There were only eight of these built before the outbreak of war, examples of which appear at East Fortune, further examples with lower roof clearances (17 ft) being purchased after 1940. The Callender-Hamilton are best recognised by their lattice-work on the top door rails.

Callender-Hamilton Hangar East Fortune National Museum of Flight

Callender-Hamilton Hangar East Fortune National Museum of Flight

As the war approached, 1939 – 1940 saw a transition period between ‘permanent’ and ‘temporary’ buildings, although many of these temporary buildings still stand today! Because of this change, many airfields had various hangars built, something that often gives a mix of hangar designs on one airfield which can cause confusion as to its age and origin. However, from this point on, all wartime hangars were designed as temporary hangars, designed with short lives and easily assembled / disassembled.

By 1940, the Bellman was considered too small for the RAF’s requirements and a new design was going to be needed. An agreement between the Air Ministry and Teeside Bridge & Engineering resulted in the ‘T’ series of hangars, perhaps the most well-known of the hangar designs.

The ‘T’ series covers a wide range of (temporary or transportable) hangars, each slightly different to the previous, but designed as three main types; T1 (90 ft span), T2 (113 ft) and T3 (66 ft). The length of each hangar varied depending upon local requirements and the number of additional bays added as needed. The design number e.g T2 (26) indicated the number of bays (26) and hence the length.

The ‘T’ range were a diverse and complicated range, the ‘T2’ being sub split into 5 variants (T2, T2 Heavy Duty, TFB (flying Boat), TFBHD (flying boat heavy-duty) and T2MCS (marine craft shed), so the identification of each being difficult without measuring equipment.

RAF Wratting Common

A T2 hangar at RAF Wratting Common.

On first inspection the ‘T2’ and Bellman look virtually identical, both lightweight, steel lattice frames with metal side panels. The main distinctions are that the Bellman doors are flush with the top of the side panelling whereas the ‘T2’ has an extra level of panelling and so are not flush. The other difference is the lattice frame inside the roof, the ‘T2’ has only diagonal braces whereas the Bellman has vertical braces in addition to the diagonals. Both hangars have six leaf doors on sliding rails supported both top and bottom, allowing full width access.

A final addition to the ‘T2’ were the Ministry of Aircraft Production Hangars the Type ‘A’ (A1 & A2) and Type ‘B’ (B1 & B2) built in the mid war years 1942-43 and funded by the Ministry of Aircraft Production. These hangars, not to be confused with the type ‘A’ and ‘B’ of the 1920s, were designed specifically for the repair of damaged aircraft especially operational aircraft on their own airfield. They were also erected at ASUs, and Satellite Landing Grounds (SLG).

RAF Wratting Common

A B1 at RAF Wratting Common an RAF bomber station.

The ‘B1’ and ‘B2’ were built specifically at Bomber Command airfields for the repair of damaged bombers thus eliminating the need to transport them long distances to specialist repair depots. Designed by T. Bedford Consulting Engineers they were eventually found on virtually all Bomber Command airfields by the end of the war and were manned by civilian repair organisations. Examples of both the ‘T2’ and ‘B1’ can be found in use at Wratting Common.

‘A1’ and ‘A2’ hangars on the other hand, whilst similar in design – metal cladding on metal frames – were slightly smaller and found only on aircraft factory airfields. Thus again there are virtually two identical hangars designated primarily by their location!

The last hangar to be commonly found on RAF / USAAF airfields were the blister hangar. A hangar of a temporary nature that usually used a curved metal frame covered in metal sheeting. The Blister hangar was the brainchild of architects and consulting engineers Norman & Dawbarn and William C. Inman of Miskins & Sons, and was designed to accommodate small span aircraft ideally fighters dispersed around the perimeter of airfields. Maintenance or storage could easily be carried in these hangars, and they could easily and quickly be erected, no base or foundations being required before hand.

These types of hangar came in three designs, the standard blister, (timber construction), over type (light welded steel) and Extra Over (also light welded steel), and ranged in span from 45 – 70 feet, A further type built was that of Double extra Over and Dorman Long, a separate design similar in shape but securely bolted to foundations. Many of these hangars have now gone, the majority being dismantled and sold off, only to be erected elsewhere on farmland well away from their original location. The father of a friend of mine, was employed in this very role, one day finding a Spitfire inside a blister hangar which nobody claimed to own!

By the end of the war, in excess of 900 ‘T2’ hangars were erected on British airfields including those built abroad. In 2004 it was thought there were about 100*7 left surviving on MOD property in Britain. A number have also survived on farmland used to store foodstuffs or machinery, or industrial sites. The ‘T2’ remained the main hangar in use by both the RAF and USAAF during the war, appearing on all Class ‘A’ airfields, occasionally with other models also being present. A number of other older models also continue to serve even to this day. Considering many of these were built as temporary buildings, they have survived remarkably well and are testament to the engineering design of the pre and early war years.

This is by no means an exhaustive list of those hangars that were built during the period 1918 – 1945 (other examples include the: Aeroplane Twin Shed; RFC Sheds; Seaplane Sheds; General Service Sheds; Plane Stores; Running Sheds; Lamella (a German idea built in Britain); Hinaldi; Main Hangars; Lamson Hangars; Fromson Hangars; Robins Hangars; Butler (a US design); Merton; ‘S’ type Hangars (RNAS); Pentad Hangar and Boulton & Paul Hangars and of course post war examples such as the Gaydon), but hopefully it has shone a glimmer of light on these remarkable structures that often dominated the skyline and that remain the centrepiece of many a disused airfield today.

In the next section we shall look at that other main iconic building in airfield design, the watch office.

Sources and further reading. 

*7Technical Bulletin 02/02 “World War II Hangars – Guide to Hangar Identification” Ministry of Defence (February 2002).