RAID ON RUHR

Wairarapa Times-Age, 8 June 1942, Page 4

RAID ON RUHR

NEW ZEALAND BOMBERS FAREWELLED & WELCOMED BY MR JORDAN. HAPPY RETURN FROM “GOOD TRIP.” (Special P.A. Correspondent.) (Received This Day, 12.10 p.m.) LONDON, June 7. The Bomber Command is working up a great offensive against Germany and the New Zealand Squadron is taking a full part, having operated in five successive nights, including both the thousand plane raids against Cologne and Essen, with the loss of only one crew. Air crews and ground crews have stood up to the strain magnificently. In fact the thousand plane raids put their tails right up. The New Zealand High Commissioner (Mr W. J. Jordan) saw something of the squadron’s typical day. He watched it take off for Essen for the third time running and then, after a raid, chatted with the crews, all of whom returned. After lunch the airmen met Mr Jordan outside the crew rooms and chatted before their briefing, when many sat in their shirt sleeves while Wing Commander E. G. Olson issued instructions. He sat informally at a. table, on which were pinned big photographs and a map of the Ruhr Valley, his jacket unbuttoned and swinging one leg. Mr Jordan sat on a tall bench his legs dangling comfortably. Wing Commander Olsen said: “Well boys, it is Essen again, but you have been there so often recently that briefing is almost a waste of time.” The New Zealanders heard their directions for the route of approach to the target and the weather and. asked a few questions. . . The New Zealand High Commissioner (Mr Jordan) was asked to speak,< which he did briefly,, saying: “You ■ boys are doing a big job. It is a great privilege to be able to see you. Good luck.”

QUICK PREPARATIONS. I The crews drew flight rations in big brown paper bags. They included orange juice. Each man had barley sugar, biscuits, cheese, chocolate and chewing gum. The crews went to their mess and worked out routes. Some slipped off on bicycles for a dip nearby, taking a small bottle of beer, which was placed in the water for cooling while they were swimming. They rested after dinner in the mess or in their rooms and then, after an operational supper including a valued egg, the crew went to their rooms in twos and threes for kits. Nearly every man took a mascot, fo\ instance a scarf, tiki or charm. One wore a tattered and torn flying suit which had seen him through nearly forty , raids. It has a skull and crossbones drawn over one pocket and a shamrock over the other. WATCHING THE TAKE-OFF. The airmen clambered into a bus and drove off without ceremony towards their aircraft. Wing Commander Olson and Mr Jordan slipped into a car and went from aircraft' to air- . craft, where Wing Commander Olson had a few last words, invariably ending up with “Okay. Well, have a good trip. See you in the morning.” To one of the fresh men, making his first raid, he said, “Enjoy yourself.” One by one the aircraft warmed up their engines, shattering the still evening air and drowning the singing of larks. Wing Commander Olson and Mr Jordan drove to the head of the flare path, where control officers flashed a green lamp when it was time for succeeding aircraft to take off. It was an impressive, and thrilling sight to see the dark shapes of .the Wellingtons - queuing up with green lights shining over their tails and red and green lights at either wing tip. When the control winked a green lamp, from the aircraft at the head of the line there came an answering wink. Then the Wellington lumbered up, swung round, paused and then the engines bellowed into life. The aircraft began moving slowly and then gathered speed and, its tail up, slid into the darkness, lifted gracefully into the air and disappeared. Occasionally there was heard, a sharp “brrupp” as gunners tested their guns. And so bomber after bomber took off, until all the squadron was airborne and silence descended on the aerodrome. Wing Commander Olson commented: “Well, there is -trouble on for the Huns,” and returned to headquarters with Mr Jordan. The unspoken thought of all minds was, “Will they all come back?”

HOMECOMING AT DAWN.

Wing Commander Olson continued with his station duties through the raid’s long hours. Mr Jordan went to bed for a brief nap until Wing Commander Olson called when dawn was painting the horizon with slender grey fingers of light They went to headquarters and then heard the bombers’ welcome rumbling. Soon the first crews came into the briefiing room, for interrogation and the news spread that all the aircraft were safe. Crew after crew streamed in and received coffee, sandwiches and cigarettes from efficient W.A.A.Fs. The talk flowed as easily and readily as the coffee . It had been a fairly quiet trip. Some of the crews caught a glimpse of German night fighters—for which they have a very great respect. Others were held by the great cones of searchlights surrounding Essen. The pilot of one aircraft had his eyes injured by flying perspex when flak splinters damaged his cockpit hood. He said: “I thought I had got all the Ruhr in my eye. I could not see for a time.” A medical officer immediately gave him attention and confirmed that his eyes were not damaged, but they were sore and bloodshot. One front gunner was hit on the wrist by flak, but fortunately it struck his identity disc, which possibly saved him losing his hand. Some of the crews saw two aircraft shot down in flames under them. It was now daylight. Mr Jordan saw crews of both the officers’ and sergeants’ messes having breakfast, including another operational egg, then remained chatting with the padre until his own breakfast was ready. Meanwhile tired crews slept and the ground crews began overhauling the aircraft, and somewhere in the Bomber Command Headquarters plans were being drawn up for the squadron’s next raid. May it always have such a “good trip.”