Bill and George knew little about any of this. Like most new crew, they were hopelessly ignorant and naïve with regard to what lay in store for them. They had no access to the kind of information enjoyed by those higher up the chain, and although they were aware of the basic aims of the bomber war, they did not think about any wider issues such as the relationship between the British and the Americans, or the overall strategy, or whether these endless bombing raids were actually achieving very much. Rather, they arrived eager to get on and do their bit and excited to be finally part of a real, active, front-line squadron.
Unlike the Americans, Bomber Command sent its aircraft up over Europe with only one pilot, but new arrivals were not given the controls straightaway; rather, they spent a couple of missions as a ‘2nd Pilot’ in order to give them an idea of what to expect. Bill and George went on their first combat missions over Europe as 2nd Pilots on 3 October 1943, George getting airborne at 6.45 p.m., Bill, the next in line, just three minutes later. The target was Kassel, an industrial centre to the east of the Ruhr. It was a good day for the squadron. Two aircraft returned early because of mechanical failure, but the rest reached their intended destination, dropped their bombs and returned home safely, just under six hours after they’d set off.
Bill and George were sent out as 2nd Pilots the following night as well. This time the target was Frankfurt and 429 Squadron were part of a four-hundred-strong raid that would be the first serious attack on the medieval city. Visibility was good, and the red flares of the bomb markers were clearly visible. Just as Bill’s aircraft began its run in to the target a massive explosion erupted from the ground, and a huge spout of flame burst into the sky. After they had dropped their own bombs and turned for home, Bill could still see the flames of the burning city glowing from as far as fifty miles away.
George, meanwhile, was suffering a far more alarming mission. Before they reached Frankfurt, they came under repeated attack by a night-fighter, and although they managed to escape as they came into reach of the enemy anti-aircraft guns, it was not before they’d lost one of their engines and suffered a succession of hits. There were fires on board and as they began their bomb run, they realized the electrics for the bomb doors had been damaged. This meant they had to open them manually, which was time-consuming and so they were delayed in releasing their bombs until after they’d left the target. Fortunately, they were not attacked again on their return trip and managed to make it to England with just three engines. But the situation was still perilous. Before reaching Leeming, it became clear they did not have enough fuel left to get them home. Furthermore, their landing gear had also been shot up and was now inoperable. There was only one option: they would have to bail out. Six managed it safely. Two did not: the Air Bomber and the Flight Engineer both crashed to their deaths along with the aircraft, exploding on impact in a field just short of Leeming.
A fortnight later, both brothers had been given crews and their own aircraft. On 22 October, the target was once again Kassel. George had technical problems opening his bomb doors, so once again missed the target and was forced to jettison his bomb load later. Both, however, made it back safely. As Bill recorded, ‘Appeared to be a good raid.’ Even so, of the eleven crews that took off that night, only nine returned home. As the twins were discovering, bombing missions over Germany were hazardous in the extreme.
Bill and George were settling in well, however. As a pre-war station, Leeming had more extensive facilities than many of the other airfields, such as Croft. Even better, the twins were delighted to be able to share a room in their house in the town, a house that had a coal fire and a bathroom. The coal store was outside and was guarded, but they would raid it anyway. The guards never troubled them. ‘It was a great joke,’ said Bill.
It was about half-past-five on the night of 3 November 1943, and the bombers of 6 Group were now crossing over the Channel and beginning to meet up with the rest of the raiding party. The bombers – a mixed force of mostly Halifaxes and Lancasters, but with Mosquitoes leading the way – did not fly in formation as such, but kept roughly close together in what was known as a bomber stream. There were dangers all along the way. German night-fighters lurked over the Channel. Gunners strained into the darkness, but very often the first they knew about coming under attack was when cannon fire started clattering around them. Then came the coastline anti-aircraft fire and more night-fighters, and finally an intense flak barrage over the target itself.
Bill glanced out of his side window and saw that some of their aircraft were under attack from night-fighters. One Halifax he saw plummet in flames. He pushed on, through the flak of the Dutch coast, until he was well into Germany. The anti-aircraft fire was pretty heavy over the target, but although the Halifax rattled and shook as shells exploded all around them, they dropped their bombs over the marker flares and climbed out of the fray without so much as a scratch. Their bombs, like those of most of the bomber force, landed to the centre and south of the city, destroying a number of industrial buildings as well as homes in the area.
Nearly four hours after they had taken off they were approaching Leeming once more, along with the rest of the bomber stream. Three had already returned home early with technical problems, but of those who had made it to Düsseldorf, the first landed back just before ten o’clock. Wing Commander Pattison and his crew touched down at 10.04 p.m. Bill called up Leeming flying control and told them they would shortly be joining the planes circling the airfield waiting their turn to land.
Most had landed by half-past-ten, but Bill had continued circling, waiting to hear George’s voice crackle through his headset. But there was no sound of his brother. ‘Skipper, I think you’d better land,’ said Jim Moore, the Flight Engineer, eventually, ‘we’re getting low on fuel.’ Reluctantly, Bill did so, the sixteen-ton bomber touching down with a lurch and a screech of rubber. Z for Zebra was the fourteenth aircraft from 429 Squadron to make it safely back. Bill hung around for as long as he could, and then made his report to the Intelligence Officer. Tots of rum and cups of tea were handed out to the exhausted crews, but as soon as Bill had changed out of his flying kit, he made his way over to the control tower, and waited. Minutes passed. Eleven o’clock came and went, then midnight; but there was nothing. No distant beat of engines, just a dark and empty sky.
He waited up all night for his brother, but in his heart of hearts, Bill knew that night that George wasn’t coming back. The following morning, Wing Commander Pattison offered him some compassionate leave – everyone knew how close the twins had been – but Bill turned the offer down. The CO accepted his decision, but insisted on accompanying him on a twenty-minute flight to see how he was holding up. All right it seemed – but even so, Pattison did not send the crew out again for a fortnight.
His crew did their best to help him, but it was difficult. ‘There was little I could say,’ said Dick Meredith, who moved into George’s old bed to keep Bill company. ‘We did do a bit of praying back then, and secretly I couldn’t help thinking that the Lord could not possibly be cruel enough to take both George and Bill. I thought Bill had to come through, and that gave me a sense of reassurance really. It was probably the wrong thing to think, but I couldn’t help it.’
Somehow, Bill kept going. On 18 November, they were on another mission, this time part of a raid on Mannheim. Strong winds of over a hundred knots pushed them way off course and so they hit Frankfurt instead. The following night, unusually, they were out again, this time to Leverkusen. ‘I think that if I had stopped I might have broke down,’ Bill told me. He also wanted to be there in case any news did come through. There was a chance George and his crew had been made prisoners of war – lots of them had, and it usually took about four to six weeks for word of POWs to filter through to the Red Cross. Six weeks came and went, but still Bill refused to give up all hope.
The rest of the crew never mentioned it. Some had lost good friends. Everyone lost someone. The statistics of the Allied bomber offensive are chilling: just over 110,000 men flew with the RAF’s Bomber Command; 55,000, almost exactly half, lost their lives.