Master Bombers: The Experiences of a Pathfinder Squadron at War, 1942–1945

By Sean Feast

The wartime exploits and experiences of an RAF bomber pathfinder squadron are recounted in this WWII history—“A stunning war book” (Oxford Times, UK).

Formed in July 1942, the Pathfinder Force was the corps d’élite of the Royal Air Force’s Bomber Command. The Squadrons of the PFF were tasked with marking targets and leading bomber formations to the right place at the right time. And the best of the force formed the crews of the master bombers, the aircraft in charge of the whole attack. It took nerves of steel for the crew to linger high over the target area, often for hours, in constant fear of attack from fighters or flak.

In Master Bombers, aviation historian Sean Feast shares the wartime stories of the men and women of No. 582 Squadron. This bomber pathfinder squadron was formed in April of 1944 and began operations with a night raid on Occupied France a week later. The aircrew and supporting staff of No. 582 distinguished themselves in numerous operations, with one pilot, Ted Swales, winning a posthumous Victoria Cross over Pforzheim.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Sep 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781909166981

Sean Feast

Sean Feast is a Director and co-owner of Gravity London and the author of several books on World War II pilots.

Book preview

Introduction

This is the story of a group of men and women described by the commander-in-chief of Bomber Command, Arthur Harris, as the ‘corps d'élite’, and for very good reason. The Pathfinders, quite literally, led the way in virtually every major bomber operation for the last three years of the war. It was they who took the greatest risks, and often took the greatest casualties.

Pathfinders were a mixed bag of talent, but whether they were career-minded, pre-war ‘regulars’ or unashamed enthusiastic amateurs in for the duration, all shared a common desire: to be the best. And they were the best. Master bombers in every sense. But whilst much has been written about such famous squadrons as 617, the Dambusters (and understandably so) it seems that the countless heroic deeds of the Pathfinders have failed to ignite the public's imagination in the same way.

This first struck me whilst researching my previous book Heroic Endeavour (Grub Street, 2006). Here was the story of a raid by a handful of Pathfinders in broad daylight on a vital target against incredible odds, in which they took a large number of casualties and in which the leader – Bob Palmer – won the Victoria Cross for a supreme act of gallantry for which he lost his life.

The parallel between the Pathfinders and the Dambusters – and between Palmer and Guy Gibson specifically – is remarkable, albeit that Palmer was killed in winning his VC, and did not have a dog with an unfortunate name! And yet whilst there have been four books on the life of Gibson alone, and countless others about the Dambusters per se, stories about the Pathfinders are still (relatively) thin on the ground.

Master Bombers focuses on the men and women of one particular squadron – 582 – but it is not a squadron history as such. It is rather a book full of personal experiences and reminiscences from those who were there at the time, and therefore those that count. Their memories are placed in the context of the squadron's operational life, to give greater continuity to the story, and hopefully a better understanding of their contribution.

What is important to stress, however, is that their stories are no different from any other Pathfinder squadron aircrew serving in Pathfinder force at that time. They are not claiming to be an elite within an elite, but rather ‘representative’ of what the whole PFF stood for and achieved.

Whilst most of those featured in the book are aircrew, this should not be taken as failing to acknowledge or appreciate the vital efforts played by their colleagues who packed the parachutes, serviced the aircraft or cooked the teas. Unfortunately the passage of time hampered my attempts to find sufficient numbers of those men and women ‘who also served’.

Stafford Coulson, the squadron's last wartime commanding officer, told me that he had always been concerned that no one had ever really understood how difficult a job it was to be a Pathfinder. He believed that their real contribution to the war effort had never been fully realised. He also thought that the contribution of the groundcrews was too rarely mentioned. At reunions, he asked veterans not to wear any medals, out of respect to their colleagues who helped keep them in the air, and for those whose gallant deeds had otherwise gone unrewarded. Sadly Stafford died during the preparation of this book, but it is to his memory, and to the memory of all those Pathfinder aircrew and ground crew that died during the war and since, that this book is dedicated.

Sean Feast

Sarratt

Chapter One

A Squadron is Born

April 1944

The Royal Air Force seemed to like April Fools Day. It was, after all, the date chosen for the birth of the RAF in 1918 when it emerged from the shadows of the Royal Flying Corps, and it was the date also, in 1944, that it chose to announce a new squadron, No. 582, to join the illustrious ranks of the Pathfinders.

The Pathfinders were the corps d'élite of Bomber Command, the command that had been leading the fight-back against Germany ever since the fall of France in 1940, and even before. For four long years, Bomber Command, led from February 1942 by the bullish Air Chief Marshal Sir Arthur Harris, had been waging war with Hitler's armies and civilian populations in the hope of bombing them into submission. And with some effect. Cities had been pounded, and the mighty manufacturing facilities of the Ruhr Valley – responsible for churning out the thousands of tanks, guns and munitions on which a German victory depended – had been severely disrupted. Bomber Command had been honed into a splendid fighting machine, a far cry from the first heroic but sadly pathetic attempts of the early bomber boys to scare their enemies into submission by dropping leaflets rather than bombs.

A primary reason for the greater efficiency of Bomber Command, and its greater successes, was the Pathfinder force, a force that quite literally ‘led the way’. Before they came into being, only one third of those who claimed to have bombed a target at night got to within a five-mile radius of the aiming point. In fact, only one in five actually bombed within 75 square miles of the intended target, and it was this dismal record of success above all that precipitated the need for some special ‘target-marking’ force to be created. The story of how the Pathfinders came into being has been told many times before, but suffice to say its formation was not a universally popular decision, not even with Harris. Some background, however, is necessary.

There was an argument that forming ‘elite’ squadrons to mark targets and lead the bulk of the bomber formations to bomb the right place at the right time would strip the main force squadrons of their best men, thereby making them less effective. There was an argument also that elite squadrons at the vanguard of a bombing operation would be singled out for special attention by the German defenders, and take a much higher percentage of casualties. Harris' plan was to train and form target-marking squadrons in each group, rather than have a separate force. This, he argued, would generate healthy competition and allow new ideas to be tried and shared. His view was reflected by his group commanders, some of whom were already developing their own target-marking tactics, and objected strongly to the idea of having their best squadrons disrupted or their future leaders poached.

Despite his objections, Harris was directly overruled by the air ministry, and so he set about finding an appropriate commander. He settled upon the mercurial Australian, Donald Bennett, as ‘the obvious man’. Harris had known Bennett since 1931, and although very young to become a group commander (Bennett was 31 whereas the average age of his contemporaries was 56), his technical knowledge and personal operational ability was described by Harris as ‘altogether exceptional’.

Although popular with his commander-in-chief, Bennett did little to endear himself to others, never hiding his disdain for operational commanders who had themselves never taken part in operations. He once famously said of Ralph Cochrane, commander of 5 Group from February 1943: He would have been the best group commander in Bomber Command had he done 10 trips – or if he had done any trips. But his knowledge of flying and of operations was nil. Bennett's own credentials, on the other hand, both as a flyer and as a commander were impeccable. A brilliant navigator (he quite literally wrote the text book on air navigation, some say on his honeymoon!), by 1942 he was in command of 10 Squadron leading one of the early attacks on the battleship Tirpitz. Shot down over Trondheim, he successfully evaded capture, and made his way home to England via Sweden.

The Pathfinders officially began life on July 5, 1942 as a unit reporting directly to C-in-C Bomber Command. For aircraft and crews it poached four squadrons from within the existing group structure: No. 7 from 3 Group (John Baldwin), No. 35 from 4 Group (Roddy Carr), No. 83 from 5 Group (at that time still commanded by Cochrane's predecessor Alec Coryton), and No. 156 from 1 Group (Edward Rice). It also had a further squadron, No. 109, designated for ‘special purposes’ that was not yet affiliated to any particular group.

After an inauspicious, not to say disastrous, start to a raid on Flensburg in which the majority failed to find the target, PFF began to steadily prove its mettle, helped by rapid developments in target finding and marking techniques. New technologies came into play such as H2S – a ground-scanning radar that could pick out certain geographical features under favourable conditions thus enabling much improved navigation – and Oboe that allowed for the precise identification of specific aiming points.

New tactics and techniques were also evolved, all to ensure greater accuracy to the navigation and bombing, and to allow a higher number of bombers over the target in a much quicker time. These bombing techniques were given codenames: Newhaven, for example, was the name given to visual ground marking – that is, a target identified visually by a pathfinder aircraft and marked subsequently with coloured indicators (Target Indicators or TIs) for the main force to attack. If the target was obscured by cloud or smoke, such that Newhaven might not be practical, the crews reverted to a blind-marking tactic known as Parramatta, using their H2S radars. When the more precise Oboe blind-bombing device was being used, the raid was known as a Musical Parramatta, and in the event that the target was totally obscured by cloud, a last-resort technique known as Wanganui was employed. This involved using sky-markers to give an approximation of where to bomb through the cloud in order to hit the target. The strange names came from the hometowns in Australia and New Zealand of some of Bennett's staff.

With the new technologies and new tactics came the new crews. A ‘normal’ Bomber Command crew signed up for a tour of 30 operations, after which they were ‘rested’, often at an operational training unit (OTU) helping others to prepare for combat. A second tour of 20 operations would then follow. Pathfinders, however, were different. Because of the intense training required and the ultimate expertise of the crews, it was decided that to lose such experience after ‘only’ 30 trips would impact significantly on the progress of the war. Better by far, it was decided, to set the minimum ‘tariff’ for pathfinder crews at 45.

Although Harris had openly opposed the formation of PFF, this did not mean he was deliberately hostile towards it. Indeed it was on Harris' insistence, and no one else's, that Pathfinder aircrew be given a special badge to distinguish them from ‘ordinary’ Bomber Command men. This badge took the form of the Royal Air Force eagle to be worn beneath the left breast pocket, and was awarded to aircrew ‘temporarily’ after a certain amount of ‘proving’ sorties had been completed, and then ‘permanently’ at the end of their tour. It was also on Harris' insistence that promotions to PFF aircrew would be accelerated, partly in recognition of the much higher risks that they faced.

Whilst the Pathfinders were no doubt the elite, it is a myth, however, that all pathfinder aircrew were already seasoned veterans with a tour or two under their belts before they volunteered. Certainly there were a good number whose quest to be the best had driven them from main force to PFF, already with a chest-full of medals and of significant officer rank. Then there were those plucked from other groups who had just started out on their tour, but who had already shown early promise. And there were those who had yet to fly their first operation but had passed out top of the class at pilot or navigation school. There were also a number posted to PFF by a handful of squadron commanders who saw the Pathfinders as a suitable dumping ground for their ‘waste’; needless to say, they rarely if ever made it through without being quickly posted out.

Even the veteran crews who had survived a tour found themselves novices in the eyes of the experienced Pathfinders, and soon discovered that previous ‘achievement’ or indeed rank counted for little until they had proven themselves to their new peers. The entry-level pathfinder crew undertook the role of ‘supporter’ for the first few operations. Supporters were used to ensure that aircraft were on scene at the right time to start bombing once the target had been marked, and to help saturate the defences. From a supporter a crew might be promoted to a ‘backer-up’, an aircraft tasked with estimating the mean point of impact (MPI) of all of the primary markers and then placing their TIs at that point with the aid of their MkXVI bombsight. They were also responsible for ensuring the target was constantly illuminated. Having proven themselves in this capacity a crew might be asked to perform a number of other tasks. ‘Recenterers’, for example, were responsible for keeping the attack on the aiming point; ‘route markers’ dropped TIs at important turning points to help the main force maintain a ‘stream’; ‘blind illuminators’ used H2S to navigate to the target and then drop flares to help the visual markers in Newhaven attacks. Arguably the most difficult job of all, and one given to only a handful of selected crews, was the role of ‘primary visual marker’. It was the primary visual marker's task to put his target indicators on the target at the very beginning of a raid, and accuracy both in timing and precision was essential.

Even amongst the elite there were gods, and these took the form of the master bombers. The master bomber, as the name suggests, was the aircraft in charge of the whole attack. It was the master bomber who determined the accuracy of the target indicators dropped by the primary visual markers, and what further marking or illumination was required. It was the master bomber that would transmit instructions over VHF radio to the main force telling them which coloured markers to ignore and which to bomb, exhorting them on to greater consistency. It took the proverbial nerves of steel to orbit high above the bomber stream over the target area, in constant fear of attack from fighters or flak, sometimes for over an hour. Unsurprisingly the master had a designated deputy master to assist, and to take over in time of trouble. If the role of the primary visual marker was the most difficult, then the role of the master bomber was the most dangerous.

The Pathfinders' success had been considerable, the results proven, and the losses – whilst always regrettable – not as dramatic as had been predicted. In recognition of its success, PFF had been granted full ‘group’ status as 8 Group, headquartered in Huntingdon, with its leader, Bennett, promoted. The size of the force began to expand commensurate with the increase in pace of Harris' attacks against Germany, and so new squadrons had to be formed.

Pathfinder force had started with five squadrons using four different aircraft: Wellingtons (156 and 109 Squadrons), Halifaxes (35 Squadron), Stirlings (7 Squadron) and Lancasters (83 Squadron). Steadily this was rationalised to Lancasters and Mosquitoes only. By the beginning of 1944, the five founding squadrons had been joined by 97 Squadron and 405 Squadron (Royal Canadian Air Force) flying Lancasters, and 105, 139 and 627 Squadrons on Mosquitoes.

The practice at the time in forming new squadrons was to take at least one flight (i.e. a group of between 12-16 aircraft and crews) from an existing squadron to form the nucleus of the new unit. A Bomber Command squadron at this stage would have usually comprised three flights – designated A, B and C – with each flight commanded, confusingly, by a squadron leader whereas the squadron itself was commanded by a wing commander!

A meeting of senior officials held early in the New Year (1944) decided that with effect from March 7, 35 Squadron was to lose its Halifax IIIs in favour of 30 Lancaster Is and IIIs. In the same meeting, authority was given for the reduction in aircraft establishment of four Lancaster squadrons in order to create two new Lancaster Pathfinder squadrons.

Paragraph four of SD 155/1944 (604-605) states:

With effect from March 20, 1944, Nos 35 and 97 Squadrons are to be reduced from an aircraft establishment of 24+6 to 16+4 Lancaster I/III and, with effect from April 1, 1944, Nos 7 and 156 Squadrons are to be reduced from an aircraft establishment of 24+6 to 16+4 Lancaster I/III. Nos 9007, 9035, 9097, and 9156 Servicing Echelons are to be reduced in conformity with their respective squadrons.

The result of this instruction was the formation of two new squadrons. From 35 and 97 Squadrons, No. 635 Squadron was to be formed and based at RAF Downham Market with effect from March 20, 1944. It would have 16+4 Lancaster I/IIIs and a new servicing echelon – Nos 9635 – with a note that ‘The aircraft, personnel and equipment thrown up by the reduction in establishment of 7, 35, 97 and 156 Squadrons, and their respective servicing echelons, are to be utilised as the nucleus for the formation of 635 Squadron and the servicing echelon of that squadron.’

The second of the new squadrons to be formed, which would have the same number of Lancasters and its own servicing echelon drawn from the planned re-organisation of its sister units, would come into being on April 1, 1944, and be based at RAF Little Staughton in Bedfordshire. Its crews and aircraft would be taken primarily from 7 and 156 Squadrons.

The new squadron was designated No. 582 Squadron of No. 8 (PFF) Group Bomber Command. Its motto: Praecolamus Designantes. We fly before marking.

Originally, Little Staughton had been built as a base for the USAAF as the 2nd Advanced Air Depot for repair of B-17s of the 1st Bomb Wing, but on March 1, 1944, it had been handed over to Bomber Command, and the command in turn had allocated it to PFF. The station commander was one of the pioneer Pathfinders, Group Captain Raymond Collings.

Collings, nick-named ‘Fatty’ on account of his somewhat rotund figure, was a pre-war regular, who had joined the RAF in the mid-1920s. Rising through the ranks, he spent time as a test pilot with ‘A’ Flight, Performance Testing Squadron at the Aircraft & Armament Experimental Establishment (A&AEE), Boscombe Down. As CO of 35 Squadron from November 1940 he was instrumental in the development and eventual introduction of the Halifax into military service. He had an impressive record of ops, and still flew whenever he could. Most recently he had been commanding officer of 156 Squadron, adding the DSO to an earlier AFC and a Mention in Despatches for his ‘great skill, excellent judgement and unswerving devotion to duty’. He was an iconic figure, greatly admired by his men.

The crews began arriving at Little Staughton by road and air on the first day of the new squadron's formation. The majority had been taken from the ‘C’ Flights of 7 Squadron from Oakington and 156 Squadron – Collings' old squadron – from Upwood, both relatively local to their new home. Within 24 hours, squadron strength was reported to be up to 50 officers and the unit was beginning to assume shape. The new adjutant, Flight Lieutenant H G ‘Timber’ Woods wrote in the squadron's operations record book (ORB):

Occupation of squadron headquarters, flight offices, commodious crew rooms and specialist offices was carried out, and various necessary adjustments and alterations to existing buildings were effected.

To command the squadron, Bennett selected Squadron Leader (Acting Wing Commander) Charles McKenzie Dunnicliffe, a man of exceptional experience. Unusually, Charles Dunnicliffe was not a volunteer reserve (RAFVR), but rather regular RAF who had risen through the non-commissioned ranks to attain commanding officer status. He had flown his first operational sortie, a daylight attack on Heligoland in October 1939, only a month after war had been declared. This was followed by a succession of reconnaissance missions, anti-invasion patrols and bombing attacks throughout the early stages of the Battle of Britain, completing his first tour in August 1940.

He returned to operational flying in 1943 with 97 (Straits Settlements) Squadron, a recent addition to PFF, as a flight commander noted for his high degree of organising capability. Despite being a pilot, his tour included no fewer than eight trips as a bomb aimer to ‘Pat’ Daniels, a legendary Pathfinder and original master bomber who later went on to complete three tours and twice win both the Distinguished Service Order and Distinguished Flying Cross. Dunnicliffe too was recommended for the DFC in December 1943, the particulars stating:

Of this officer's total of 46 operational sorties, 11 have been with Pathfinder force, nine of these as Marker. He served with a bomber squadron early in the war and carried out many sorties over enemy territory as the captain of a Blenheim aircraft. On joining 97 Squadron he functioned first as a bomb aimer in one of the leading crews of the squadron and later as pilot and captain. In both the roles he has filled and on all operations in which he has been engaged he has shown pronounced ability and has achieved noteworthy success. His cheerful mien in face of known hazards, his high sense of duty and his all-round ability set a fine example to his flight in particular and the squadron in general.

Dunnicliffe survived the Battle of Berlin at a time when many exceptional crews were lost. He also had the necessary ‘management’ experience, assuming command of 97 Squadron for a brief period at the end of 1943 from Group Captain Noel ‘Press-on’ Fresson GC, DFC upon the latter's posting to RAF Snaith, and before the arrival of the new CO, Wing Commander Edward Carter DFC.

In keeping with many COs, Dunnicliffe brought with him to Little Staughton several members of his former squadron and crew, including his regular navigator, Squadron Leader Ross Ingalls DFC and his wireless operator, Flight Lieutenant Charles Chetham DFC.* These two men he made ‘leaders’ of their respective disciplines, effectively in charge of all of the other navigators and wireless operators on the squadron. Amongst the other ‘trades’ (as they were called), bombing leader was Flight Lieutenant Arthur Feeley DFC, gunnery leader was Flight Lieutenant Leslie Booth DFC, and Flying Officer Harold Siddons DFC (later a post-war actor) was placed in charge – officially at least – of flight engineers, albeit that the task actually fell to the more experienced Flight Lieutenant Ted Stocker DFC.

Amongst the crews there was an eclectic mix of novices and consummate pathfinding professionals, and whilst the majority of the new squadron was made up of crews taken from 7 and 156 Squadrons, it was not exclusively so. Pilot Officer Roy Pengilley, for example, joined from 625 Squadron with his crew having only flown a total of nine trips; Flying Officer George Hall arrived from 101 Squadron, a special duties squadron that carried an eighth German-speaking crew member operating a nightfighter radio jamming device, with only six trips under his belt (one of those was to Nuremberg on the night the RAF suffered its heaviest casualties losing 95 aircraft).

At the other end of the scale there were men like Squadron Leader Bob Wareing, a second-tour man who had already won the DFC & Bar. He had received his first ‘gong’ as a pilot officer with 106 Squadron in April 1941 attacking two enemy battle cruisers in the port of Brest, and a second on completing his tour in December. All but one of his crew were similarly on their second tour of operations.

Squadron Leader John Weightman DFC was an even earlier starter, winning his award one night in July 1940 as pilot and captain of a Hudson undertaking a reconnaissance mission over the Norwegian coast. Attacked by two Messerschmitt 110s (twin-engined fighter aircraft), he managed to make his escape, but not before his gunner had badly damaged one of their opponents. At the time of his award, he had already flown 92 operational flights over the sea amounting to more than 360 hours flying time.

Flight Lieutenant Clive Walker had survived a tour on Boston light bombers with 107 Squadron in 1942 when very few did; he then survived more than a year instructing which was perhaps more incredible still. Pilot Officer ‘Splinters’ Spierenberg was another remarkable case, arriving at 582 from 115 Squadron, part of 3 Group. His case was remarkable, not so much because of his flying experience, but because he had originally joined the Dutch merchant navy and had two ships torpedoed from under him!

Not surprisingly, arguably the most experienced men were the two flight commanders, Derrick ‘Dickie’ Walbourn and Brian McMillan. Both had exceptional flying records, and their credentials were beyond reproach. Walbourn, I/C ‘A’ Flight – designated a ‘blind’ bombing flight, had been one of the few pre-war pilots to attain the Air Efficiency medal (AE) whilst as a test pilot for De Havillands. McMillan, I/C ‘B’ Flight – comprising visual bombing specialists – was a New Zealander and skier of international standard. A member of the Reserve of Air Force Officers (RAFO), he had been awarded the Air Force Cross (AFC) for his airmanship in June 1943.

As a supernumerary flight commander, and an officer officially placed in charge of training, they were assisted by another seasoned veteran, whose curriculum vitae included a DFC awarded for successfully completing a tour on Stirlings in 1942. More recently he had led a flight at 7 Squadron. His name was Wing Commander Philip Patrick.

The story of Philip Patrick MBE, DFC, 582 Squadron

Philip Patrick had always wanted to fly. A Scotsman born in Edinburgh in March 1915, he joined the RAF on September 3, 1940 – exactly one year after Britain had declared war on Germany – undertaking the obligatory training without incident or mishap at 3 ITW, then on to 6 EFTS at Sywell, Lincolnshire. His skill as a pilot, and aptitude for multi-engined aircraft in particular singled him out for training as an instructor, and soon after being awarded his wings, he was posted to Central Flying School (CFS) Cranwell instructing on twin-engined Oxfords.

Fortunately for a man keen to get on to operations, his stint as a flying instructor did not last too long. From Cranwell he went to 11 OTU, Bassingbourn, spending five months, between January