Soldato
- Joined
- 21 Mar 2003
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Tonight, at approximately 11pm on February 2nd, marks the 72nd anniversary of when my grandfather was shot down over war-torn europe. To me, this man has always been a hero, and I thought that some people here, might like to read his story, in his own words.
Combat Report, 189 Squadron, Royal Air Force.
1336775 Leslie W. Cromarty D.F.M.
Operations Karlsruhe
2nd/3rd February 1945
On Friday night of 2nd/3rd February 1945, at approximately 23.00hrs. we were approaching the target indicators on our bombing run. We were flying at 18,500 feet. We had our bomb doors open, and we were bombing through cloud on Wanganui flares. As we neared the aiming point, the Mid Upper gunner warned us of aircraft bombing from above. I also saw two a/c immediately behind but about 20 feet above us. I watched their incendiaries cascading out of their bomb bays. We dropped the 4000 pounder, and the bomb aimer began counting before releasing the incendiaries. He called "six" when I smelled the all too familiar smell of cannon fire. The aircraft then exploded and I was blown clear.
I waited a short while before opening my 'chute and found myself floating directly above the aiming point. A number of aircraft were bombing, and two Lancasters charged past me, one above, the other below. I think the lower one took avoiding action, but his slipstream caused my 'chute to spin and collapse. I began falling and spinning through the cloud. I passed very close to the flare. My 'chute re-opened just below the cloud base. I was floating in the flak belt just above the target, which I could see quite clearly between my feet.
I suffered several near misses from shell bursts; one caused the canopy of my 'chute to begin smouldering along one edge. Several shroud lines also parted. Later I found that my clothing was also badly scorched, and my face was burnt too. Something hit me in the face and I felt the blood running warm on my face. Then I passed out.
It was daylight when I came to. I don't know what day it was but I think it was Sunday. I was lying in a snow-covered field. There were a number of Germans around me, mainly S.S. I felt very, very cold inspite of all the heavy clothing I was wearing, and I could not focus my eyes properly. I found that I could move my arms a little, and also my right leg, but I could not move my head or my left leg. I later found that because I had been lying on my back, the blood from my face and the wound at the back of my head had soaked into my hair and had frozen it to the ground. My left leg was out of joint at the hip. Both of these were remedied by the S.S. One of them gently kicked my head with the flat of his boot and freed it from the ground. Later, when I kept falling down when they tried to stand me up, one of them sat on my chest while another began pulling on my leg. I remember that I tried to bite the backside of the one sitting on me but his trousers were too thick and I passed out before I could get in a good bite. When I next came to I was lying on the front mudguard of a lorry, between the mudguard and the engine. I was in a lot of pain because the warmth of the engine was getting my circulation going again, and soon the aching became almost unbearable. It lasted for a long time. The S.S. did not ill-treat me in any way and once when we stopped, one of them massaged my arms to ease the pain. Another gave me a drink of Cognac, which took my breath away and left me coughing and spluttering. I did not have much pain from my hip at that time, that came several weeks later when we were on the march from Nurnberg to Munich.
Later they took me to a small village where I was kept in the Police Station for a few hours. There I was searched. I gave them my name, rank and number, and also my date of birth.
I was then taken by the S.S. first to what I thought was their H.Q. There, one of their officers wanted my flying-suit and I gave it to him. I was then taken to a large Military Prison which I later learned was actually a military hospital. There I was put in a large cell with a bed with clean sheets.
A few hours later an English-speaking Sergeant came to me with an officer. They told me that they had another British prisoner. They were concerned about him because he had no boots and was very frightened. I gave them the inner slippers from my flying-boots. I asked if I could see the other prisoner. They refused at first but later they took me to see him.
They took me down a long corridor. At the end of the corridor there was a small group of German soldiers. Standing in the middle was Sergeant Dyson, who was from my squadron and flying with F/O Kelly and his crew who were all killed. When he saw me he said, "I don't know you, chum." I replied, "You keep that up Ricky, you don't know me." He then recognised me but he pretended not to know me from then on. We were allowed talk to one another for a short while and then an officer arrived with a small detachment of troops. They ordered us outside to a lorry. We were then ordered to lie on the front mudguards. I lay on the nearside one and Ricky on the offside. In that way we were driven about.
First they took us to what looked like the entrance to the Camp. The officer told me that they had taken some bodies of R.A.F. men there earlier. I asked if I could see them. I was hoping that I might be able to identify some of my crew. He replied that it would be better if I did not see them. I then asked him if he could get some boots for Sergeant Dyson. He said that he would try but would make no promises. He came out later with some boots which he gave to Ricky. The boots were both left feet and one belonged to my mid-upper gunner. We were then driven along as before.
As we drove along I signalled to Ricky to hold onto my wrist, while I held his. I particularly remember one long straight stretch of road where I was worried about Allied Fighters. We drove on until we came to a small village. There the escort left us standing alone beside the lorry surrounded by the villagers. Most of them were just curious, only one showed any hostility. We just ignored them. Later the escort returned and we were taken to the outskirts of a small town. There again the escort left us but this time they left a guard sitting in the cab. Curious people, some of who were French workers, surrounded us. We were able to talk to one of them for a short time until our escort returned.
We were driven on to yet another village where an Australian Flight Sergeant joined us. I can't remember his name. He too had lost his boots when he baled out. We were then taken to the local Police Station. The officer in charge of the escort had obviously had a drop too much to drink, and he began to inform us that one German was worth ten Englishmen. I asked him if he would like to prove it but he declined - which was just as well, because he was much bigger than I was.
We were placed in a cell measuring about fifteen feet square. It had a stout wooden door and a barred window high up on the opposite wall. The cell contained a large wooden double bed and a canvas and wood camp bed. The large bed was covered with straw. Ricky and I used the bed and the Aussie used the camp bed.
The following morning we were taken one at a time up a flight of stone steps to a crude wash-place. There was a toilet and a water pump. One of the guards operated the pump for me while I tried to wash by putting my head under the pump. We had no soap or towels. Later that morning a civilian doctor came and treated my facial burns and removed a small piece of metal from above my right eyelid. I asked the German Officer for food for my companions and myself but he refused saying that we should be able to manage for a few days without food.
On the second day we decided that we had been quiet for long enough and I led my companions in a walk round and round the cell. Every time we came to the door we gave it a tremendous kick and shouted for food in French. Why French? Well, none of us knew the German for food but Ricky knew the French word having been there before. The Germans took no notice of us whatever and we soon got tired of it and stopped. Later that day we were sitting talking quietly amongst ourselves (non-military matters, we were aware that the walls might have ears), when we realised that someone was trying to attract our attention from outside. I took the camp bed and up-ended it against the window and used it as a ladder to climb up. I looked out and saw a girl of about twenty standing beneath the window. She was German. She whispered to me and passed me some sandwiches wrapped in newspaper. She indicated that I was to return the paper to her. I passed it to her and she quietly left.
The following day the Germans gave us a large white enamel jug filled with boiled potatoes. They lasted us for several days. We were not given any other food while we were there.
One day a German Air Force Sergeant came to escort us to Oberusal Interrogation Centre. He was armed with a machine pistol and could speak no English. The journey was by train to Frankfurt where we were surprised to see the station in such good order. However, when we came outside we had to walk between the heaps of rubble. There we went by tram to Oberusal, the air force interrogation centre. During the journey I tried to talk to the guard using sign language.
When we arrived at Oberusal we were put into a small office-like room. After a few minutes I was sent for and taken to another office where I saw the German who had escorted us. With him was a very large, fat German Sergeant Major, who began shouting and bawling at me. I made it quite clear that I was not in the least bit impressed. He then began shouting that I had broken German Law by talking to the guard about the War. I told him that for the last few years I had broken a great deal more than Jerry laws. I then proceeded to tell him just what I thought of both him and his laws. I might have been in a lot of trouble then but he swung round and caught the guard grinning his head off and rounded on him instead. I then went back to my friends and told them what had happened.
We were then taken to separate cells and kept in solitary confinement for ten days. On two occasions they threatened to have me shot for what they termed "being unco-operative". I'm afraid I was very rude to them on both occasions.
One day I was introduced to a German pilot. He was about them same age as me, perhaps a couple of years older. He wore several decorations, including the Knights Cross. He set up a table and two chairs in a corridor because he knew I was highly suspicious of rooms with "bugs". We then talked, "airman to airman". We talked mainly about flying without touching on any sensitive matters what so ever. He told me that he had been shot down in North Africa during the desert campagne, and had been captured by the Eighth Army. He said that the food was poor; just cabbage soup and bread. He finally escaped and got back to his own lines. He told me that he now flew a night fighter and how easy it was to see British Bombers at night by their 9-foot exhaust flames. All the while we were talking I formed the impression that he was the one who had shot me down but I did not know how. He never admitted it but on one occasion when I said that my aircraft had exploded, he said, "Yes, that was some bang." I could not understand how he could have shot me down without me seeing him. It all became very clear many years later when I learned about "Shrage Musik", or upward firing cannon. Whenever I tried to get the German to talk about how he shot me down he changed the subject. We talked about flying school days instead. The German interrogation officers told me that I had been involved in a collision with other aircraft, which I did not believe.
One day, about fifty of us, mostly Americans, were taken to a railway station and put into two cattle trucks, officers in one and N.C.O.'s in the other. Barbed wire was strung across at one end to separate us from the guards. We were each given a Red Cross parcel. The journey took five days altogether because of R.A.F. activity and because the engine kept being borrowed for other things. If we wanted bread during the journey we could barter with the guards. They would give us our own bread ration in exchange for soap or cigarettes, both of which were rationed in Germany.
We finally left the train at a wayside halt, and had to walk a few miles to the Dulag Luft. This camp was internally run by U.S. prisoners and was the best camp that I was ever in. As we approached the camp, we had to walk on a dirt track up a hill and across a large field. As we drew near we saw a group of guards with dogs carrying a body on a stretcher. It was the body of an American prisoner. He had been shot while trying to escape. I felt very angry and hostile towards the guards until a little while later some of his friends told me what had really happened. They told me that the airman, like me, was a sole survivor of his aircraft and that it had unhinged his mind. They all tried to keep an eye on him but that day he had evaded them and had run for the wire. The guards called to him to stop, but he continued running and climbed the inner wire. They again ordered him to stop but he ran to the outer wire and climbed that also. He then began to run across the open field in spite of many warnings. The guards had no option but to shoot. His friends think he deliberately committed suicide.
When we arrived inside the camp we were given hot showers and were inspected for lice etc. The Americans then gave us any items of clothing we needed. I was given a pair of U.S. brown boots in exchange for my flying boots. I was also given a pipe and some tobacco; I was a pipe smoker at that time. A veritable feast was laid out for us in the Mess Hall - it was really five days' Red Cross rations for the time we spent on the journey from Oberusal. I was about to go in when I saw Ricky with a group of Yanks. They looked like a lot of monks. They had all their hair shaven off and were wearing brown scarves made into hoods. They had had lice. Ricky was really fed up, and when he saw me with all my hair on he shouted: "They didn't dare touch yours, did they?"
We remained in that camp for about two weeks. To most of us it was a kind of convalescent camp where we could rest up and get ready for what we knew was to come.
We were moved from there by train to a more permanent camp at Nuremberg, called Langwasser. It was not very pleasant there. We slept in large wooden huts holding about a hundred men, with three tier bunks and the food was poor. Now and then we received Red Cross parcels. If it had not been for them some of us would not have survived.
One day we were told that we were going to be marched south because the Allied Armies were getting too close. We set out marching in large groups, but that did not suit all of us. I teamed up with another Flight Sergeant named Denis Humphries. He was a navigator. Our adventures for the next few weeks would fill a book. We had ideas of doubling back and heading for the allied lines but we befriended a German ex-pilot who had been invalided out of the Luftwaffer. He told us that the German Military Police and the S.S. picked up anyone on the roads and hanged them. We decided that there was no future in that and so we kept on going from one Red Cross distribution point to another until eventually we arrived at Stalag 7a at a place called Mooseberg, near Munich.
The camp was part of the Concentration Camp Dachau. I eventually escaped from there with an American. We were recaptured by an advance patrol from General Patch's 3rd Army. Two days later they overran the camp. Eventually I ended up with thousands of others on Igglestadt Airfield. From there we were flown in Dakotas to Reims and from there by Lancasters to Tangmere.
There I met up with Ricky once again. Most of the re-pats. were Army types and as we were two R.A.F. types we were taken by some W.A.A.F.s to the Flight offices where we were able to wash and clean ourselves up. One of the W.A.A.F.s got in touch with 5 Group H.Q., who told her that Ricky had been awarded the George Medal for an action that happened several weeks before we were shot down. I found him washing. He had his face buried in a towel when I told him of his award. He did not seem very interested at the time. This was about the beginning of May.
We travelled from there, by a comfortable train this time, to an R.A.F. Station where we were kitted out, given a quick medical, and sent on indefinite leave.
Later I was to spend many weeks in Cosford R.A.F. Hospital and the Rehabilitation Centre, but I was finally passed "Fit for all flying duties", and continued flying Yorks all over the world with 242 Squadron from Lynham.
I eventually gave it up after several close shaves and became a schoolteacher instead.
I know there are many gaps in my story; some are deliberate because I did not think them relevant, others are because I just cannot remember them. For example, the journey from Dulag Luft to Nuremberg: I can only remember reaching the city, the rest is a complete blank.
This was mainly the combat report filed by me when I returned to RAF. Tangmere.
I had almost completed my 40th operation when I was finally shot down.
Combat Report, 189 Squadron, Royal Air Force.
1336775 Leslie W. Cromarty D.F.M.
Operations Karlsruhe
2nd/3rd February 1945
On Friday night of 2nd/3rd February 1945, at approximately 23.00hrs. we were approaching the target indicators on our bombing run. We were flying at 18,500 feet. We had our bomb doors open, and we were bombing through cloud on Wanganui flares. As we neared the aiming point, the Mid Upper gunner warned us of aircraft bombing from above. I also saw two a/c immediately behind but about 20 feet above us. I watched their incendiaries cascading out of their bomb bays. We dropped the 4000 pounder, and the bomb aimer began counting before releasing the incendiaries. He called "six" when I smelled the all too familiar smell of cannon fire. The aircraft then exploded and I was blown clear.
I waited a short while before opening my 'chute and found myself floating directly above the aiming point. A number of aircraft were bombing, and two Lancasters charged past me, one above, the other below. I think the lower one took avoiding action, but his slipstream caused my 'chute to spin and collapse. I began falling and spinning through the cloud. I passed very close to the flare. My 'chute re-opened just below the cloud base. I was floating in the flak belt just above the target, which I could see quite clearly between my feet.
I suffered several near misses from shell bursts; one caused the canopy of my 'chute to begin smouldering along one edge. Several shroud lines also parted. Later I found that my clothing was also badly scorched, and my face was burnt too. Something hit me in the face and I felt the blood running warm on my face. Then I passed out.
It was daylight when I came to. I don't know what day it was but I think it was Sunday. I was lying in a snow-covered field. There were a number of Germans around me, mainly S.S. I felt very, very cold inspite of all the heavy clothing I was wearing, and I could not focus my eyes properly. I found that I could move my arms a little, and also my right leg, but I could not move my head or my left leg. I later found that because I had been lying on my back, the blood from my face and the wound at the back of my head had soaked into my hair and had frozen it to the ground. My left leg was out of joint at the hip. Both of these were remedied by the S.S. One of them gently kicked my head with the flat of his boot and freed it from the ground. Later, when I kept falling down when they tried to stand me up, one of them sat on my chest while another began pulling on my leg. I remember that I tried to bite the backside of the one sitting on me but his trousers were too thick and I passed out before I could get in a good bite. When I next came to I was lying on the front mudguard of a lorry, between the mudguard and the engine. I was in a lot of pain because the warmth of the engine was getting my circulation going again, and soon the aching became almost unbearable. It lasted for a long time. The S.S. did not ill-treat me in any way and once when we stopped, one of them massaged my arms to ease the pain. Another gave me a drink of Cognac, which took my breath away and left me coughing and spluttering. I did not have much pain from my hip at that time, that came several weeks later when we were on the march from Nurnberg to Munich.
Later they took me to a small village where I was kept in the Police Station for a few hours. There I was searched. I gave them my name, rank and number, and also my date of birth.
I was then taken by the S.S. first to what I thought was their H.Q. There, one of their officers wanted my flying-suit and I gave it to him. I was then taken to a large Military Prison which I later learned was actually a military hospital. There I was put in a large cell with a bed with clean sheets.
A few hours later an English-speaking Sergeant came to me with an officer. They told me that they had another British prisoner. They were concerned about him because he had no boots and was very frightened. I gave them the inner slippers from my flying-boots. I asked if I could see the other prisoner. They refused at first but later they took me to see him.
They took me down a long corridor. At the end of the corridor there was a small group of German soldiers. Standing in the middle was Sergeant Dyson, who was from my squadron and flying with F/O Kelly and his crew who were all killed. When he saw me he said, "I don't know you, chum." I replied, "You keep that up Ricky, you don't know me." He then recognised me but he pretended not to know me from then on. We were allowed talk to one another for a short while and then an officer arrived with a small detachment of troops. They ordered us outside to a lorry. We were then ordered to lie on the front mudguards. I lay on the nearside one and Ricky on the offside. In that way we were driven about.
First they took us to what looked like the entrance to the Camp. The officer told me that they had taken some bodies of R.A.F. men there earlier. I asked if I could see them. I was hoping that I might be able to identify some of my crew. He replied that it would be better if I did not see them. I then asked him if he could get some boots for Sergeant Dyson. He said that he would try but would make no promises. He came out later with some boots which he gave to Ricky. The boots were both left feet and one belonged to my mid-upper gunner. We were then driven along as before.
As we drove along I signalled to Ricky to hold onto my wrist, while I held his. I particularly remember one long straight stretch of road where I was worried about Allied Fighters. We drove on until we came to a small village. There the escort left us standing alone beside the lorry surrounded by the villagers. Most of them were just curious, only one showed any hostility. We just ignored them. Later the escort returned and we were taken to the outskirts of a small town. There again the escort left us but this time they left a guard sitting in the cab. Curious people, some of who were French workers, surrounded us. We were able to talk to one of them for a short time until our escort returned.
We were driven on to yet another village where an Australian Flight Sergeant joined us. I can't remember his name. He too had lost his boots when he baled out. We were then taken to the local Police Station. The officer in charge of the escort had obviously had a drop too much to drink, and he began to inform us that one German was worth ten Englishmen. I asked him if he would like to prove it but he declined - which was just as well, because he was much bigger than I was.
We were placed in a cell measuring about fifteen feet square. It had a stout wooden door and a barred window high up on the opposite wall. The cell contained a large wooden double bed and a canvas and wood camp bed. The large bed was covered with straw. Ricky and I used the bed and the Aussie used the camp bed.
The following morning we were taken one at a time up a flight of stone steps to a crude wash-place. There was a toilet and a water pump. One of the guards operated the pump for me while I tried to wash by putting my head under the pump. We had no soap or towels. Later that morning a civilian doctor came and treated my facial burns and removed a small piece of metal from above my right eyelid. I asked the German Officer for food for my companions and myself but he refused saying that we should be able to manage for a few days without food.
On the second day we decided that we had been quiet for long enough and I led my companions in a walk round and round the cell. Every time we came to the door we gave it a tremendous kick and shouted for food in French. Why French? Well, none of us knew the German for food but Ricky knew the French word having been there before. The Germans took no notice of us whatever and we soon got tired of it and stopped. Later that day we were sitting talking quietly amongst ourselves (non-military matters, we were aware that the walls might have ears), when we realised that someone was trying to attract our attention from outside. I took the camp bed and up-ended it against the window and used it as a ladder to climb up. I looked out and saw a girl of about twenty standing beneath the window. She was German. She whispered to me and passed me some sandwiches wrapped in newspaper. She indicated that I was to return the paper to her. I passed it to her and she quietly left.
The following day the Germans gave us a large white enamel jug filled with boiled potatoes. They lasted us for several days. We were not given any other food while we were there.
One day a German Air Force Sergeant came to escort us to Oberusal Interrogation Centre. He was armed with a machine pistol and could speak no English. The journey was by train to Frankfurt where we were surprised to see the station in such good order. However, when we came outside we had to walk between the heaps of rubble. There we went by tram to Oberusal, the air force interrogation centre. During the journey I tried to talk to the guard using sign language.
When we arrived at Oberusal we were put into a small office-like room. After a few minutes I was sent for and taken to another office where I saw the German who had escorted us. With him was a very large, fat German Sergeant Major, who began shouting and bawling at me. I made it quite clear that I was not in the least bit impressed. He then began shouting that I had broken German Law by talking to the guard about the War. I told him that for the last few years I had broken a great deal more than Jerry laws. I then proceeded to tell him just what I thought of both him and his laws. I might have been in a lot of trouble then but he swung round and caught the guard grinning his head off and rounded on him instead. I then went back to my friends and told them what had happened.
We were then taken to separate cells and kept in solitary confinement for ten days. On two occasions they threatened to have me shot for what they termed "being unco-operative". I'm afraid I was very rude to them on both occasions.
One day I was introduced to a German pilot. He was about them same age as me, perhaps a couple of years older. He wore several decorations, including the Knights Cross. He set up a table and two chairs in a corridor because he knew I was highly suspicious of rooms with "bugs". We then talked, "airman to airman". We talked mainly about flying without touching on any sensitive matters what so ever. He told me that he had been shot down in North Africa during the desert campagne, and had been captured by the Eighth Army. He said that the food was poor; just cabbage soup and bread. He finally escaped and got back to his own lines. He told me that he now flew a night fighter and how easy it was to see British Bombers at night by their 9-foot exhaust flames. All the while we were talking I formed the impression that he was the one who had shot me down but I did not know how. He never admitted it but on one occasion when I said that my aircraft had exploded, he said, "Yes, that was some bang." I could not understand how he could have shot me down without me seeing him. It all became very clear many years later when I learned about "Shrage Musik", or upward firing cannon. Whenever I tried to get the German to talk about how he shot me down he changed the subject. We talked about flying school days instead. The German interrogation officers told me that I had been involved in a collision with other aircraft, which I did not believe.
One day, about fifty of us, mostly Americans, were taken to a railway station and put into two cattle trucks, officers in one and N.C.O.'s in the other. Barbed wire was strung across at one end to separate us from the guards. We were each given a Red Cross parcel. The journey took five days altogether because of R.A.F. activity and because the engine kept being borrowed for other things. If we wanted bread during the journey we could barter with the guards. They would give us our own bread ration in exchange for soap or cigarettes, both of which were rationed in Germany.
We finally left the train at a wayside halt, and had to walk a few miles to the Dulag Luft. This camp was internally run by U.S. prisoners and was the best camp that I was ever in. As we approached the camp, we had to walk on a dirt track up a hill and across a large field. As we drew near we saw a group of guards with dogs carrying a body on a stretcher. It was the body of an American prisoner. He had been shot while trying to escape. I felt very angry and hostile towards the guards until a little while later some of his friends told me what had really happened. They told me that the airman, like me, was a sole survivor of his aircraft and that it had unhinged his mind. They all tried to keep an eye on him but that day he had evaded them and had run for the wire. The guards called to him to stop, but he continued running and climbed the inner wire. They again ordered him to stop but he ran to the outer wire and climbed that also. He then began to run across the open field in spite of many warnings. The guards had no option but to shoot. His friends think he deliberately committed suicide.
When we arrived inside the camp we were given hot showers and were inspected for lice etc. The Americans then gave us any items of clothing we needed. I was given a pair of U.S. brown boots in exchange for my flying boots. I was also given a pipe and some tobacco; I was a pipe smoker at that time. A veritable feast was laid out for us in the Mess Hall - it was really five days' Red Cross rations for the time we spent on the journey from Oberusal. I was about to go in when I saw Ricky with a group of Yanks. They looked like a lot of monks. They had all their hair shaven off and were wearing brown scarves made into hoods. They had had lice. Ricky was really fed up, and when he saw me with all my hair on he shouted: "They didn't dare touch yours, did they?"
We remained in that camp for about two weeks. To most of us it was a kind of convalescent camp where we could rest up and get ready for what we knew was to come.
We were moved from there by train to a more permanent camp at Nuremberg, called Langwasser. It was not very pleasant there. We slept in large wooden huts holding about a hundred men, with three tier bunks and the food was poor. Now and then we received Red Cross parcels. If it had not been for them some of us would not have survived.
One day we were told that we were going to be marched south because the Allied Armies were getting too close. We set out marching in large groups, but that did not suit all of us. I teamed up with another Flight Sergeant named Denis Humphries. He was a navigator. Our adventures for the next few weeks would fill a book. We had ideas of doubling back and heading for the allied lines but we befriended a German ex-pilot who had been invalided out of the Luftwaffer. He told us that the German Military Police and the S.S. picked up anyone on the roads and hanged them. We decided that there was no future in that and so we kept on going from one Red Cross distribution point to another until eventually we arrived at Stalag 7a at a place called Mooseberg, near Munich.
The camp was part of the Concentration Camp Dachau. I eventually escaped from there with an American. We were recaptured by an advance patrol from General Patch's 3rd Army. Two days later they overran the camp. Eventually I ended up with thousands of others on Igglestadt Airfield. From there we were flown in Dakotas to Reims and from there by Lancasters to Tangmere.
There I met up with Ricky once again. Most of the re-pats. were Army types and as we were two R.A.F. types we were taken by some W.A.A.F.s to the Flight offices where we were able to wash and clean ourselves up. One of the W.A.A.F.s got in touch with 5 Group H.Q., who told her that Ricky had been awarded the George Medal for an action that happened several weeks before we were shot down. I found him washing. He had his face buried in a towel when I told him of his award. He did not seem very interested at the time. This was about the beginning of May.
We travelled from there, by a comfortable train this time, to an R.A.F. Station where we were kitted out, given a quick medical, and sent on indefinite leave.
Later I was to spend many weeks in Cosford R.A.F. Hospital and the Rehabilitation Centre, but I was finally passed "Fit for all flying duties", and continued flying Yorks all over the world with 242 Squadron from Lynham.
I eventually gave it up after several close shaves and became a schoolteacher instead.
I know there are many gaps in my story; some are deliberate because I did not think them relevant, others are because I just cannot remember them. For example, the journey from Dulag Luft to Nuremberg: I can only remember reaching the city, the rest is a complete blank.
This was mainly the combat report filed by me when I returned to RAF. Tangmere.
I had almost completed my 40th operation when I was finally shot down.
