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This article
was published in
Hangar Lines, the magazine of the Alberta Aviation Museum Association
of which
Bob was an active member until he died in 1999. Everyone on the
Squadron had a
particular fondness for Bob and this article is reproduced here as a
tribute to
him.
I have read about what others have
guessed at or documented concerning the raid on Oslo, December 31,
1944.
Forty-five years is a long time ago and like cream coming to the top in
a
container of milk, only the highlights are crystal clear. The everyday
routine
of life in the RAF is almost lost.
I was a Canadian bomber pilot
attached to the RAF’s 627 Squadron which was stationed at Woodhall Spa,
Lincolnshire. We were flying the fabulous Mosquito bomber and after
nearly a
year of constant practice, I was a confident pilot. The Mosquito had
become a
part of me. Our unique dive-bombing technique had been developed by W/C
Cheshire. He had done quite a number of dive-bombing marking trips for
the big
bombers – Lancs, Halifaxes and Stirlings – and became a member of the
Pathfinder force. We used visual means of marking, instead of the
technical
equipment used by No 8 Group. This took a great deal of practice and
our
accuracy had become so dependable that we grew from a “toy airplane” to
a
lethal weapon. A quick accurate placing of our bombs would keep the
damage
centred on the main target and that is why we were chosen for the Oslo
raid.
We followed the same routine
procedure, getting ready for a big one. Our target practices over the
Wash
increased a little and the aircraft that were slated to fly were
checked out.
My aircraft was no DZ611 and I had flown her on a number of previous
trips. We
didn’t get all excited about this target beforehand, as the crews knew
nothing
of what the upper ranks were planning.
Our first information about the trip
to Oslo was that we were to fly to Peterhead in the northern part of
Scotland
which would be our advance base. Peterhead was an American base for
B17s and
would cut off at least two hours flight time and give us a good start.
The trip
would be a long one – four to four and a half hours – and that can be
very
tiring if weather conditions require continuous instrument flying or if
there
are a few unfriendly happenings along the way. Briefing told us that
Oslo was
the target – not target for tonight – as this would be a daylight raid,
which
we did not do very often. In fact, I believe I flew only three trips in
daylight. It’s quite different as you feel like you stand out like a
sore
thumb.
At this time of our action against
the enemy, we flew to our destination at 28,000 feet and around the
target area
we would descend to 3,000 feet to look over the area for a
pre-determined
aiming point. We would then dive to 1,000 or 500 foot levels. After we
had done
our marking, we would climb back to 28,000 feet and return to base.
This time,
the target had flak positions and the German Navy was in the Oslo
Fjord. W/C
Curry was our new squadron commander and would lead the group which was
made up
of two flights of six Mosquitoes each. F/L Mallender would lead the
second
wave.
The North Sea is a long trip and we
had been told that the water was so cold, we’d last only two minutes. I
don’t
remember worrying too much about it – it was such a beautiful day. We
realised
and enjoyed the scene below us – snow covered mountains and bright
sunshine.
F/O Willis and I did not talk much, if at all. Each of us absorbed in
his own
thoughts, thinking of what could happen and Willis no doubt wondering
what this
bastard was going to do next. We cleared the Norwegian coast, with the
Oslo
Fjord to our right. The target was ahead of us but not in sight, lost
in the
haze. Suddenly bursts of flak came up, seemingly one for each aircraft
and
right on altitude. This was the first time that I had seen, heard and
smelled
it all at the same time as we flew through the cloud.
W/C Curry called out to descend to
target, probably with his usual “Tally-Ho”: he started the dive with us
following his movement. No 2 disappeared from my view and left a gap
between
the leader and myself. He told No 2 to close in and after a couple of
instructions like that I realised I was the one he called No 2. I had
already
pushed up my throttles at the start of the dive to close the gap. I
broke radio
silence to tell him I was No 3 and closing fast.
Everything happened so quickly. We
had, of course, fooled the flak defences by our diving attack and at
last – the
target. Bomb doors open, wait for the right moment, push the button,
hold 1,000
feet. I felt concussions that closely followed one another. There was
no smoke,
no dust. I then pushed lower over the city and I remember seeing an
open-air
skating rink with people skating around, unaware of the chaos and
explosions
behind them.
Suddenly, No 4 was descending down
on top of us. Once again I had to break silence. A mountain loomed up
right in
front of us and as we changed our straight and level to a steep climb,
flak
came off the mountain, then we were up and over. Curry ordered us to
break up,
every man for himself.
I was doing a left-hand turn to head
back when I saw a valley to our right. I slid down into the valley and
kept at
a low level. We passed over the coast and I began the climb back to our
operational altitude of 28,000 feet. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky
and no
enemy aircraft were in the vicinity. I didn’t know until years later
that the
second phase did not drop their bombs. All they saw was smoke and dust
at the
target site.
The trip back to Peterhead was
uneventful. Those Mosquitoes were really smooth and reliable and much
credit
must go to the manufacturer and of course our aircraft mechanics who
worked
hard to keep them flying.
All aircraft returned to base and
all had some flak marks. Mine also had a cracked landing light cover,
which
they said had been caused by the concussion. Only one crew member was
injured
by shrapnel.
The next morning we did a fly past the
control tower as we headed back
to base. A few officers of high rank met us, shook my hand and said a
few
words. I received the DFC for this trip and years later when I read the
citation I felt proud to have taken part in this once in a lifetime
adventure.
I have often wondered if someone, somewhere has recorded what German
ships were
in the Oslo Fjord that day. Our diving technique certainly fooled their
gunners
as the next time they would have been right on target.
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